Quote of the day...er...week...umm...hey, look, a quote!!

"...besides love, independence of thought is the greatest gift an adult can give a child." - Bryce Courtenay, The Power of One

For old quotes, look here.

Friday, August 16, 2013

I'm Workin' On It

If you can keep your head when all about you   
    Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,   
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
    But make allowance for their doubting too;   
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
    Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
    And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;   
    If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;   
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
    And treat those two impostors just the same;   
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
    Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
    And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
    And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
    And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
    To serve your turn long after they are gone,   
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
    Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,   
    Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
    If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
    With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,   
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,   
    And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

Saturday, August 10, 2013

Thoughfetti

I'm working at the track this weekend as a control communicator for the Peachstate Porsche Club driver's ed. event.  We're training someone to do the job that one of my oldest friends from the track does, because my friend is ready to hand it over to someone else and get some rest on her weekends.  Selfish.  Heh.

So the person we're training?  The person I suggested and heartily endorse for the position?  My ex sister-in-law.  Yup.

When T and I divorced, Mizz J told me I wasn't getting away that easily!  We call each other sister-outlaw, a phrase my mom coined for herself and HER sister-outalw when she and my dad divorced.  Divorce doesn't mean you have to sever ALL connections.
~~~~~
I spent Friday  running errands with K2.  We went to lunch after.  The kids were at her house with J.  It was lovely.  After we were done, I got to rummage through K2's jeans - I had bemaoned my lack of pants and how the two pairs of jeans I have are getting too big.  She had some hand-me-down-able things, so I tried 'em on.  Three pairs of jeans the richer, me, and they are two sizes smaller than what I have been wearing.  Woot!
~~~~~
I have had a sore throat for two weeks now.  Several nights I have taken pain medication because it keeps me awake.  One night was bad enough I cried.  For more than an hour.  I am tired of hurting...always something...
~~~~~
Sprout has taken to saying "Dammit!"  She uses it appropriately, and I am torn...it's freakin' cute, but...well...she really souldn't use cuss words...yet...
~~~~~
Since when do ten-year-olds act sullen, resentful, and backtalk?  I thought I had a few more years...
~~~~~
I was trying to save money for a bike...and bills and expenses kept foiling me.  I finally built up a few bucks and then?  Someone bought me Blue Beauty, my noble steed.  Now what?  Hmm.  I think...I think...I will be a little selfish...and maybe try to save for a cruise with my friend K2...maybe some other women...but no kids, no mens, just us chicas out on the waves.  At the rate I'm going we'll be able to set sail in...umm...2050 or so.
~~~~~
I am bone tired, soul tired, deeply in need of respite...but I am still kicking.
~~~~~
My band produced a new CD.  It's titled "Rise Up" and it's available on iTunes, Amazon, and CD Baby.  I think it's our best one, and it's certainly the only one I have actually listened to willingly, on purpose, more than once.  For what it's worth...
~~~~~
I am slowly adding to my iTunes library.  I find that buying one or two songs at a time suits me.  I like the eclectic mix of noise I can shuffle and play at will.  When a friend plays something I enjoy, I find out what it is and add it to my library.  What are some of your favorite pieces to play?

Thursday, August 8, 2013

Someone tell me...

...exactly why I have to get out of bed in the morning?

Dishes?  Pft.  Every time I clean them, more dirty ones pile up.

Laundry?  See dishes.

Floors?  See Laundry and dishes.

I am sore, tired, depressed, broke, and can't frelling breathe.

Two steps forward, one step back?  I don't think so.  More like no steps forward, one steep downward spiral with no end in sight back.

I see people happy and I wonder how the hell they did that.  I thought I was happy...may have been for a while...but it fell apart.

I have come to the conclusion that anyone who is romantically attracted to/loves me?  Is deeply flawed and all it takes is a little time with me to turn even the nicest person into an ass or epic proportions.  I am a curse.
Want to destroy someone's life?  Send 'em my way.  I can do it in record time without even trying.  Hell, the harder I try NOT to, the faster it goes!  Prodigal, me.

So, yeah...why do I hafta get up?  Pft.  I'm going back to bed...

...and if a man so much as LOOKS at me, I am running away as far and as fast as I am able.  It's for his own good...

Sunday, August 4, 2013

Daisy, Daisy...

Okay, so it isn't built for two and I am not calling it "Daisy", but it IS a bicycle.

On Saturday, Someone and I went on a...gasp...date!  Our second, I think, or maybe third.  A friend came and watched Sprout and the Evil Genius was at his father's, and we were two adults at large in the world with nothing more than thoughts of sushi forming our prospective activities.

We ran a few errands first, then went for sushi at my favorite place - until Saturday, poor Someone has never been there, only feasted on whatever leftovers I brought him.  While even their leftovers are excellent, nothing beats fresh.

Afterwards we headed homeward, but decided on the spur of the moment to stop at our local Evil Empire to see if they had any shorts or shirts Someone could buy for working outdoors in.  He  has a job now, and it is a lot of outdoor work, and jeans and t-shirts are just too hot.

As we were heading over towards the hardware department to investigate oscillating fans, we passed the bicycle display.  The price on the sign gave us pause, caused us to stop and back up.  The bikes on the front rack were all touring bikes, the kind I have longed for for some time.  There, in the middle, as if waiting just for me, was the blue beauty shown above.  Half price.

No kidding.

Half price.

Someone had been paid Friday.  He told me "Grab the bike, you're getting it."

He bought me a blue bike.  The exact bike I have wanted for several years, now.  Sniff.

I rode her today.  Let me just say that when one has not ridden a bicycle for 25 years or so, one may be excused if one...wobbles...a little.  I did not fall off, anyway, and I imagine I will improve with more practice.

I am as excited as a ten-year-old at Christmas!

Tuesday, July 30, 2013

It Wouldn't Be Ours If It Worked Right

It's been a rough week here at Casa de Crazy.  More about some of that later.  Let's just look at today.

My neck and back are screaming at me constantly.  My head hurts.  I had to wait more than an hour past our appointment time (regular check-up, nothing dire) at the pediatrician's with a two-year-old that was NOT interested in being patient, let alone THE patient.  A cat barfed up a puddle of something delightful right where I stand to fold laundry.  Guess how I found it.  Hint: I go barefoot in the house.

I am still trying to get everything unpacked, washed, and put away from our Ohio trip, so I unloaded the dishwasher, loaded it back up, and ran it.

A little while later, I wandered into the kitchen to get a drink and...umm...I believe what I said was "That's not right."

It looked kinda like this, only more so:


I didn't take any photos of MY floor because it was flowing into the pantry...you know, where we store food?  Food that really doesn't need to be pre-soaked with soapy, bleachy, dishwasher water?  So I got busy finding towels that won't get all weird if they're bleached and sopping up the mess, which means you get Internet photos that approximate our drama.  

I checked downstairs just to be sure this wasn't because our septic tank had, again, overflowed into the house.  All dry, whew!  I ran water in the kitchen sink to make sure the pipe isn't clogged.  Drains fine.  So now what?

I decided to run the dishwasher again to see if it simply hadn't drained correctly.  It's running as I type, and so far, so good.  Every now ant then, I open it and check what's up. Seems okay.

I did not use the wrong detergent - I used the same stuff I ALWAYS use because I have OCD and some products are not negotiable in my home or the world will come to an end thankyouverymuch.  I didn't find anything in the drain or screen.  It just...overflowed.

On top of everything else (I know, I'm teasing, but some hings take time to write), we didn't need this.

Sigh.

Here's hoping there was a gremlin caught in the drain and it's now washed down into the septic tank and doing the doggy paddle with the scorpion I flushed last week, and the dishwasher will now go back to doing its job, principally not getting dishes entirely clean but usually draining properly...

Thursday, July 25, 2013

And Then the Bottom Falls Out

Earlier this week I read a story about a woman in Texas who fell out of an amusement park ride and was killed.  Seems she may or may not have been properly secured.  A child or children may have been riding with her.

I imagine they started out thinking things were fine.  Maybe it was a hot day and they waited a long time in line and things were a little unpleasant, but they were willing to stick it out.  I imagine they were relieved and a little excited when they reached the head of the line and it was, finally, their turn to enjoy some of the fun.  I imagine they had no idea that a few bad decisions would be life altering.

And then she fell.

I wonder what she thought.  Was she hoping to survive?  Did she know she was done for?  Did she think of the people she left behind?  Or did some stray bit of ephemera float across her mind, the phone bill or whether she turned off the coffee pot?

How quickly things change.  One weathers rough seas, make the best of things, endures, struggles, exults, patiently waits, works towards change...and then...the bottom drops out...

Thursday, July 18, 2013

Go, Go, Go!

We got back from our Ohio trip on Tuesday afternoon.  I would like to say we've had a little time to relax, but...umm...about that...

It seems like I'm even busier now than before we left!

So I find myself neglecting Blogopolis once again...I hope you'll forgive these humongous lapses...I shall endeavor to do better when I have a moment to catch up to myself.  Meanwhile, have a music video to ponder:
 

Thursday, July 4, 2013

Independence Day



Yep, this is a repost, but why re-write what already suits??
~~~~~
In writing the Declaration of Independence, in ratifying it, in signing their names to it, the men named at the bottom risked the very things they hoped to secure for themselves and for future generations. They were performing an act of treason, and by putting their names to it they made of themselves targets for the man, for the nation, they accused. They fought for the principles they named, fought for their families, for their lives, and for the burgeoning life of the tender new nation they hoped to nurture into a great place, a free place, a place where anyone could hope to not just survive, but thrive - a place where anyone willing to put their all into it, to do their very best, could find success, no matter what their gods, their nation of origin.

Since that time, people have tried to follow their lead, standing up and making their voices heard to help secure their rights, the rights of future generations. They have added color and sex to the list of things that cannot determine success, cannot be used as an excuse to deny equal opportunity.

You do the same when you vote. You do it when you attend council meetings, board meetings, town hall meetings, and speak your piece; when you ask the hard questions, protest with signs, songs, shouts; when you show people who think they own this nation to the exclusion of others, people who think they have the right to amend your rights to suit them, that you are watching them, that you SEE them, that you know better.

You do it when you tell our armed forces "Thank you for your service" whether you agree with whatever conflicts we're embroiled in or not - because they are standing up for our liberty doing a difficult, dirty, often thankless job - and they are there, ultimately, to preserve our nation and its principles (As an aside - thank you, men and women of the armed forces. Thank you, and blessed be, and come home safe to the families who love you, miss you, and hope only for your swift return.).

You do it when you teach the children in your life what it means to be free - freedom to fly means freedom to fall, and freedom to rise up again; freedom to succeed means freedom to fail, and to try once more; freedom to speak means freedom for dissenting opinions to be heard; freedom is not comfortable - at times, it is downright terrifying...but it is necessary to the human spirit.

Given a choice to be cold, hungry, ragged, poor, weary, worn and free, or to be clothed, fed, housed, succored, safe and bound - I will be free. Do not make the mistake of giving up your freedom for the illusion of safety - you will one day wake to find you have nothing left but the yoke you bound yourself to.

I could go on, but to what purpose? You understand or you don't - and my little rant won't sway anyone, I fear.

Here, then, is a transcript of our most essential document, the one that began it all, the one that first gave shape to our name, to our identity as a nation. Read, if nothing else, the first two paragraphs. They are as stirring, heartfelt, and powerful now as when they were first written.
~~~~~

IN CONGRESS, July 4, 1776.

The unanimous Declaration of the thirteen united States of America,

When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.--That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, --That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. Prudence, indeed, will dictate that Governments long established should not be changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath shewn, that mankind are more disposed to suffer, while evils are sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the forms to which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security.--Such has been the patient sufferance of these Colonies; and such is now the necessity which constrains them to alter their former Systems of Government. The history of the present King of Great Britain is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute Tyranny over these States. To prove this, let Facts be submitted to a candid world.

He has refused his Assent to Laws, the most wholesome and necessary for the public good.
He has forbidden his Governors to pass Laws of immediate and pressing importance, unless suspended in their operation till his Assent should be obtained; and when so suspended, he has utterly neglected to attend to them.
He has refused to pass other Laws for the accommodation of large districts of people, unless those people would relinquish the right of Representation in the Legislature, a right inestimable to them and formidable to tyrants only.
He has called together legislative bodies at places unusual, uncomfortable, and distant from the depository of their public Records, for the sole purpose of fatiguing them into compliance with his measures.
He has dissolved Representative Houses repeatedly, for opposing with manly firmness his invasions on the rights of the people.
He has refused for a long time, after such dissolutions, to cause others to be elected; whereby the Legislative powers, incapable of Annihilation, have returned to the People at large for their exercise; the State remaining in the mean time exposed to all the dangers of invasion from without, and convulsions within.
He has endeavoured to prevent the population of these States; for that purpose obstructing the Laws for Naturalization of Foreigners; refusing to pass others to encourage their migrations hither, and raising the conditions of new Appropriations of Lands.
He has obstructed the Administration of Justice, by refusing his Assent to Laws for establishing Judiciary powers.
He has made Judges dependent on his Will alone, for the tenure of their offices, and the amount and payment of their salaries.
He has erected a multitude of New Offices, and sent hither swarms of Officers to harrass our people, and eat out their substance.
He has kept among us, in times of peace, Standing Armies without the Consent of our legislatures.
He has affected to render the Military independent of and superior to the Civil power.
He has combined with others to subject us to a jurisdiction foreign to our constitution, and unacknowledged by our laws; giving his Assent to their Acts of pretended Legislation:
For Quartering large bodies of armed troops among us:
For protecting them, by a mock Trial, from punishment for any Murders which they should commit on the Inhabitants of these States:
For cutting off our Trade with all parts of the world:
For imposing Taxes on us without our Consent:
For depriving us in many cases, of the benefits of Trial by Jury:
For transporting us beyond Seas to be tried for pretended offences
For abolishing the free System of English Laws in a neighbouring Province, establishing therein an Arbitrary government, and enlarging its Boundaries so as to render it at once an example and fit instrument for introducing the same absolute rule into these Colonies:
For taking away our Charters, abolishing our most valuable Laws, and altering fundamentally the Forms of our Governments:
For suspending our own Legislatures, and declaring themselves invested with power to legislate for us in all cases whatsoever.
He has abdicated Government here, by declaring us out of his Protection and waging War against us.
He has plundered our seas, ravaged our Coasts, burnt our towns, and destroyed the lives of our people.
He is at this time transporting large Armies of foreign Mercenaries to compleat the works of death, desolation and tyranny, already begun with circumstances of Cruelty & perfidy scarcely paralleled in the most barbarous ages, and totally unworthy the Head of a civilized nation.
He has constrained our fellow Citizens taken Captive on the high Seas to bear Arms against their Country, to become the executioners of their friends and Brethren, or to fall themselves by their Hands.
He has excited domestic insurrections amongst us, and has endeavoured to bring on the inhabitants of our frontiers, the merciless Indian Savages, whose known rule of warfare, is an undistinguished destruction of all ages, sexes and conditions.

In every stage of these Oppressions We have Petitioned for Redress in the most humble terms: Our repeated Petitions have been answered only by repeated injury. A Prince whose character is thus marked by every act which may define a Tyrant, is unfit to be the ruler of a free people.

Nor have We been wanting in attentions to our Brittish brethren. We have warned them from time to time of attempts by their legislature to extend an unwarrantable jurisdiction over us. We have reminded them of the circumstances of our emigration and settlement here. We have appealed to their native justice and magnanimity, and we have conjured them by the ties of our common kindred to disavow these usurpations, which, would inevitably interrupt our connections and correspondence. They too have been deaf to the voice of justice and of consanguinity. We must, therefore, acquiesce in the necessity, which denounces our Separation, and hold them, as we hold the rest of mankind, Enemies in War, in Peace Friends.

We, therefore, the Representatives of the united States of America, in General Congress, Assembled, appealing to the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, in the Name, and by Authority of the good People of these Colonies, solemnly publish and declare, That these United Colonies are, and of Right ought to be Free and Independent States; that they are Absolved from all Allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the State of Great Britain, is and ought to be totally dissolved; and that as Free and Independent States, they have full Power to levy War, conclude Peace, contract Alliances, establish Commerce, and to do all other Acts and Things which Independent States may of right do. And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our Fortunes and our sacred Honor.

The 56 signatures on the Declaration appear in the positions indicated:
Column 1 - Georgia: Button Gwinnett, Lyman Hall, George Walton

Column 2 - North Carolina: William Hooper, Joseph Hewes, John Penn South Carolina: Edward Rutledge, Thomas Heyward, Jr., Thomas Lynch, Jr., Arthur Middleton

Column 3 - Massachusetts: John Hancock Maryland: Samuel Chase, William Paca, Thomas Stone, Charles Carroll of Carrollton Virginia: George Wythe, Richard Henry Lee, Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Harrison, Thomas Nelson, Jr., Francis Lightfoot Lee, Carter Braxton

Column 4 - Pennsylvania: Robert Morris, Benjamin Rush, Benjamin Franklin, John Morton, George Clymer, James Smith, George Taylor, James Wilson, George Ross Delaware: Caesar Rodney, George Read, Thomas McKean

Column 5 - New York: William Floyd, Philip Livingston, Francis Lewis, Lewis Morris New Jersey: Richard Stockton, John Witherspoon, Francis Hopkinson, John Hart, Abraham Clark

Column 6 - New Hampshire: Josiah Bartlett, William Whipple Massachusetts: Samuel Adams, John Adams, Robert Treat Paine, Elbridge Gerry Rhode Island: Stephen Hopkins, William Ellery Connecticut: Roger Sherman, Samuel Huntington, William Williams, Oliver Wolcott New Hampshire: Matthew Thornton
~~~
If you've made it this far, thank you. To support out troops, go visit Any Soldier or Troop BeBop (I know this woman - she's a force of nature!). I wish you a safe, joyous, and happy Independence Day.

Tuesday, July 2, 2013

Time Slip

I need more time.  Wouldn't it be nice if we could bank minutes, hours, days?  Save a little here, a little there, use it when we need to stretch time a little?

I have so much to do, and it must all be done by Saturday, because on Sunday the kids, our friend A, and I will be motoring up to Ohio for our annual visit to Wisteria Campground.  We'll be there ten days, then home again, home again!

Between now and then?  Trailer needs tidying and loading, sewing needs doing, van needs cleaning and organizing, then loading, clothes need washing and packing, groceries need buying, house needs cleaning, and I have a band rehearsal, a holiday, and tons of other things to attend to.

I used to be much more organized, less stressed about these trips...back before kids...

So I could use some of the time I've saved driving, finding short cuts, trimmed from chores...to get everything done well in advance of this trip so on Saturday all I have to do is buy groceries and get the food packed and stowed in the van.

Sigh.

Hey buddy, can you spare a ten-minute spot?

Wednesday, June 26, 2013

Distraction

I'm tired.  Got home Monday from PSG in Illinois, ten days of camping and music and all kinds of drumming and drama.  Lots of laundry, unpacking, and general cleaning to do.  Lots of sewing to do for the next show, which is in two weeks.  No singing this time, just selling and spending time with friends.  No time to write a real blog right now...the sewing, she will not do herself, so...here's a video of a song that is currently stuck in my head.  What're you up to?


Tuesday, June 11, 2013

Blargh!

I have had swollen glands in my neck since last Wednesday.

Sore throat started Friday.

Hurts to swallow.

Do you know how many times one may swallow in the course of the night?

Me neither, I quit counting around 100.

My temperature goes up and down faster and with greater frequency than a yo-yo at a Duncan exhibition.

I need a nap after going down stairs to do laundry and then coming back up.

I need a nap after getting a glass of water.  It can take hours to drink that glass of water if i manage to stay awake.

My ears throb.  My throat throbs.  My jaw aches.  Holding my head up is...unpleasant...

After three nights of zero real sleep because I drift off only to wake up whenever I swallow, then can't get back to sleep because I can't help swallowing, I finally caved and went to the doctor.

I have never felt like this.  Ever.

He swabbed my throat and pronounced a very slight case of strep.

Slight?

I feel like the sword swallower who hiccoughed on the way down!

Slight???

I have never had strep.  This is a new experience, and I can honestly and emphatically say I could happily never have known the joys of it personally.  Sometime it's okay to live vicariously.

Also, if this is slight?  I hope I may never know the full-throttle version.

Friday, June 7, 2013

Anatomy Of An Alleged Night's Sleep

9:00 PM - Pantyhose on an octopus pajamas on Sprout.

9:30 PM - warn Evil Genius it's almost time to wrap it up, attempt to rock Sprout (who has other plans).

10:00 PM - attempt to convince Evil Genius to heed parental authority and wrap it up, still rocking Sprout, who is writhing like she's being pinched, poked, and stabbed with hot needles while voicing her protest about sleep in general and being rocked in particular at the top of her lungs.

10:15 PM - make another pass at the Evil Genius, who is suddenly intent upon perfecting his impression of a particularly slow-moving Sloth.  Try no to drop Sprout on her head while she determinedly seeks solace in abrupt impact with the floor.

10:30 PM - Remind feline that caterwauling next to the head of the child I am trying to get to sleep is probably not such a good idea.  

10:45 PM - Tell Sprout she is going to be the entree for tomorrow night's dinner if she doesn't settle down.  At this point, the girl is so tired she cannot keep her eyes open, but she is still struggling.  Sleep?  Is for chumps!  The Evil Genius has now taken forty-five minutes to clean up two lego bricks and an army man.  Several hundred to go.

11:00 PM - threaten to kill and eat any child who is not in bed asleep in less than five minutes.  Sound convincing.

11:10 PM - deposit soundly sleeping Sprout in her bed, making sure her "nankie" (the blanket Mum knit her that has become her one and only Thing That Must Always Be In Sprout's Presence) is covering her.  Remind the Evil Genius for the umpteenth time that he will sleep better on a bed NOT covered in small, poke-y toys, then give up and wish him sweet dreams.

11:15 PM - crawl into bed with an exhausted Someone, cuddle up, drift to sleep.

11:48 PM - wake to crying Sprout noises.  Go and comfort her.

11:52 PM - back to bed.

11:58 PM - more crying Sprout.  Rock her, comfort her, finally peel her out of previously perfectly comfortable pajamas that are now, apparently, the toddler equivalent of shrink wrap dipped in acid and entirely intolerable.

12:43 AM - back to bed.

1:30 AM - rouse from slumber to go cover now-pajamaless Sprout who has managed to roll herself out of her nankie cover and finds a general house temperature of 76 degrees to be sub-arctic.

2:22 AM - repeat above step.

3:36 AM - repeat above step.

4:20 AM - wake from sound sleep to feel son tapping leg and loudly voicing his concern over his stomach burbling.  Remove to the hallway to discuss the nature and location of the burbles while reminding him that there are others sleeping and whispering will suffice.  Inform son that said burbles probably mean he will be needing to run to the bathroom with greater frequency for a bit.  Delight at the information that he has already had diarrhea once tonight.  Joy.

5:49 AM - wake to Someone angrily admonishing cat to quit scratching outside the litter box in which she has just made a deposit, because twenty minutes of covering it up with non-existent floor-litter is enough.

5:50 AM - out of bed and removing sheets, as a cat has peed on Someone's feet.  Again.  Start laundry, make bed, lie down.

6:00 AM - Turn off Someone's alarm.  Sprout whimpers.  Oh...no...

6:15 AM - hear thud as Sprout climbs out of bed.  Help her onto the big bed because she doesn't climb very well while holding her nankie.  Try to convince her that she wants to go back to sleep.

8:00 AM - wake pinned by snoring Sprout because Evil Genius's alarm is going off, and despite being mere inches from his head he has not heard it and is still asleep.  Call out to him with ever increasing volume to turn. that. damned. thing. off!

8:47 AM - Sprout is awake, again, and is now declaring the day ready to start, thankyouverymuch.

Spend rest of day in sleep deprived haze.

Repeat with variations on the theme.

Wednesday, June 5, 2013

If My Ten-Year-Old Gets It...

The following conversation took place in Tess the Mule (our second Astro) while we were waiting at the dealership:

"Hey, Little Dude...?"
"What, Mommy?"
"If I have a bucket of popcorn and you want some, but I won't give you any, is it okay to help yourself?"
"No-o."  He says it like it's obvious.
"Okay...but what if you're really hungry and really want some popcorn?"
"No."  Duh, mommy.
"What if I tell you I have a chocolate bar and I'm going to share it, but then I don't.  Is it okay to take it from me?"
"No.  It's your chocolate bar.  You don't have to share it if you don't want to."
"How about if I have been telling you all day how I have this chocolate bar and we're going to share it, and now you really want some chocolate?"
"It's still not okay."
"What if I tell you I will share with you, but then I fall asleep?  Is it cool to take it then?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because it's yours, and you can't share it if you're asleep, it's just me taking it."
"How 'bout if I have a bucket of quarters and I tell people I'm going to share them later, but than I don't?  Is it okay to take them from me?"
"No, that's stealing."
'Suppose I am very drunk and say I am going to let you have my quarters, but then I pass out"
"Still no, Mommy."  He's impatient, now.
"And if you ask if I will share the quarters and I say no, but then pass out, is it okay to take them?"
"Uh, no."
"And if I am asleep and you ask me if you can eat 27 Kit Kat bars and I don't wake up and say 'no' does that mean 'Yes'?"
"No.  You have to say 'yes' to mean 'yes', Mommy."  Again, duh.
"What if I am asleep and someone else comes along and asks me if they can have my quarters and I don't say 'no' and they take them?"
"Then I would tell them not to, because you didn't say 'yes' and that's not okay, and they shouldn't take what isn't theirs, it's stealing."

I bet YOU, dear reader, understood where I was going with this.

"So the same is true for sex, buddy."
"Um, okay."
"Some day you'll be interested in sex.  Really interested.  And sex feels good.  And when someone says they will have sex and then changes their mind, it can be frustrating.  But...even if you really want to have sex, what does it mean if they say 'You know what?  I changed my mind.' and they don't want to any more?"
"It means no sex."
"What if you hear someone telling others how much they want to have sex, but then they are passed out, and you see someone taking them away because they're going to go ahead without asking?"
"Um...that's wrong, because just because you don't say 'no' doesn't mean you are okay with it."
"What if you say you want to have sex but then change your mind?  It is okay for you to say know after you said yes?"
"Well...of course it is."

So...we have never discussed rape.  We've talked about sex a little, about the biological imperative and body parts and the biological reason for sex, but rape?  Not yet.  I have not said the word "rape" to him or discussed sexual assault, rape, statutory rape, incest, or any of the like in detail...just made sure he knows that it's not okay for anyone to mess with his private parts or to ask or make him mess with theirs.

He simply has the good sense to know that when someone says "no", they mean "no".  Even when they said "yes" before.  And when someone cannot say no, it isn't consent.  Silence does not mean it's okay.  Unless there is a clear statement of "yes" in the moment, then...well...no.  And when you see someone acting like they were told "yes" when they were not, you step up and say something.

How is it my kid knows this when so many grown and semi-grown people seem to have no clue?

Thursday, May 30, 2013

Do I Answer Like It Matters?

I had a doctor's appointment on Tuesday, a sort of regular thing.

There was a medical student there, and as part of her training she had to do a patient survey with me.

The subject of my mental health came up and I explained that I have depression, pretty severely at the moment.  We talked about medication and why I won't take it, and she asked (as part of the survey) if I had suicidal thoughts.

Tricky question, that.

Answer it wrong and you get to stay in the comfortable padded rooms of the local psych hotel, complete with poorly fitting fashions and all the meds you can (whether you want to or not) take.

Sometimes?  That sounds kinda nice.  No kids, no chores, no pets, no one else's feelings or hurt or needs or anger to tiptoe around.  A whole staff dedicated to taking care of me.  Like a spa but less formal.  And then there are all the other crazies in there for entertainment - way better than reality TV any day!

Oh, well, yeah, there's that whole not-allowed-to-come-and-go-as-one-pleases thing...that kinda puts a crimp on my style, yo.

And the not having my daughter to cuddle up with for an afternoon nap, or my kids to wake up to in the morning.

And cafeteria food.  Oh, Gods, the cafeteria food!

So it's wise to consider carefully and answer as honestly as one can...but for me, that's a tricky thing because honestly?  Yes, I have suicidal thoughts.  Lately, it seems like they're a chorus, constantly humming in my head.  I am sick of life.  Sick of feeling flattened, worn down, worn away, worthless and useless, and if I could just shuffle off this mortal coil without having to do the deed myself I would be delighted.

I don't want to live.

I don't want to experience what the world has to offer, or my children's laughter, or how they grow up.  I don't want to be responsible for them or their well-being.  I don't want to sing.  I don't want to write.  I don't want one fucking thing to do with anyone or anything.  I want, with damn near every bit of my being, to be dead.

All.  The.  Time.

But...

But...

But I DO, in fact, want to be part of my children's lives...I just don't like feeling like I am screwing them up.

And life is amazing, even when I hate it.  Luckily, it doesn't hate me back.  Yet.

And I may not want to sing , but I need to.  It's part of the fabric of my being and, like oxygen, I cannot seem to do without it (even when I believe, absolutely, that no one wants to hear it)(my disease, my thoughts, and I can believe in pink unicorns but that doesn't make them any more real).

And I would very much like to feel like a writer again, if only there was time or opportunity and I didn't feel so overwhelmed by everything else that needs doing and so unnecessary to the writing world.

And, you know, there's that promise I made all those years ago...the one where I said I wouldn't off myself.  And I don't break my world.  Ever.  Even when I really, really, really, really, really want to.  A lot.

So.  I know that when medical folks ask about suicidal thoughts, what they really want to know is if there's any imminent danger of one acting on those thoughts...and in my case, there is not.  So I can tell them "No" and it's the answer that best fits the question even if it' not, entirely, honest.

Because in the end?  It doesn't matter what I am thinking or feeling or what I want.  And really, institutional Jell-o is all the motivation I need to smile and keep on as if nothing is wrong in the world, and since I cannot actually DO what I would like to about how I am feeling, it's all good.  Right?

Right.

F.I.N.E.

Wednesday, May 29, 2013

Thoughtfetti

Went to the dentist yesterday, got a new crown.  Fun.  Went to the doctor as well, got a well-meant lecture on taking better care of myself and some new medication.  More fun.
~~~~~
The Evil Genius spent two weeks restricted from strenuous play while he healed up from his orchioplexy.  Restriction was lifted last Friday and we spent Saturday and Sunday at a friend's place on a lake.  He was in paradise!  We will go back again as soon as I've recovered from mass-people-exposure.  That is TOO a condition!
~~~~~
I think, maybe, possibly, perhaps, there's a slight chance...that we are well and truly finished with the recording part of making our new CD.  Whew!  What a haul...totally worth it, but if anyone ever tries to say singing isn't work, they've no idea what they're talking about!
~~~~~
Two of the three ring-neck snakes died.  I am sad about that.  Gimpy, the slightly bent one, is still kicking (figuratively speaking, of course, because how can a snake kick???), I believe largely because I hand feed him.  He's pretty spry for a bent snake, too!
~~~~~
I'll be gone for a little bit mid-June.  Wasn't planning on going anywhere this year, but the band was hired to perform.  I feel trepidatious about going.  Hey, spell check?  Trepidatious is TOO a word!  And I feel it.  About going on this trip.  I hate that I no longer anticipate fun, but rather worry about everything that can and will go wrong.  Sigh.
~~~~~
I started taking a B-complex vitamin because I am exhausted all the time, and who wants to live with that?
~~~~~
This blog could double as a sleep aide.  You're welcome.
~~~~~
What's on your mind?

Monday, May 27, 2013

Lo's Question

"What do you want?"

I'm not sure.

"Not good enough.  What do you want?"

I don't know.

"What do you want?"

I'm not...

"What do you want?"

I don't...

"You do.  What do you want?"

...

...

...

"I am afraid of the answer."

And then he was gone.

Sunday, May 26, 2013

Memorial Day






Photo found here and copied entirely without permission but not without respect.



Many of my family have served their country in the various branches. My brother was in the Army, but thankfully got out when yet another gopher hole tried to eat his ankle. Don't ask. My Uncle was in the Air Force, even flying Air Force Two for a while. My Grandfather was in the Coast Guard during World War II. I have a cousin in the Air Force. I believe he flies Airforce somethingorother from time to time. I have a friend who was in the Army during the Vietnam War (conflict, my ass!) - I never once resented the calls at three-o'clock in the morning; nightmares shy away from friendly voices, from reason and reassurance. Another friend was in the Army until it broke his back - literally. He survived, but not his plans for a lifetime in the military - they don't want broken people, no matter how useful or clever they are. Someone's family is jam-packed with folks who've served - mostly Navy, I believe - and deserve some respect and thanks. So...thanks.

For a history of this day, go here. Or here. Or here. In a nutshell, Memorial Day is for remembering the fallen. Veteran's Day is for honoring the living. That's why they get two days, and so they should. Men and women stand up and make targets of themselves to maintain our freedoms every day of the year, so the least we can do is take two days to tell them "Thanks. Thanks for acting against human nature and protecting me and mine. Thanks for losing an arm, a leg, a life so that I don't have to."

It's not about the politics. I'm non-violent. I don't think war is ever a reasonable response to conflict. I don't believe that wars are fought for ideal, but rather for political and/or financial gains. I won't forget, though, that people have laid down their lives so that I may stand on a street corner protesting (I never would) them, or denigrating (never, ever!) them for their service.

Perhaps one day, we won't have any new graves to decorate. Until then, I remember and (as best I can) I honor.

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

Safe Haven

Saw this today as the Evil Genius, Sprout, and I were preparing to watch The Life of Pi.

What struck me was the very idea of a safe haven, a place where one may seek shelter, take comfort...something I both have and have not, myself.

There are places I can go, of course, and people who love me better than I deserve...but where I should most feel loved, wanted, and protected?  I do not.  I find that terribly...sad...

It looks like a lovely movie...perhaps I will see it when it's on Netflix...

Thursday, May 16, 2013

Peculiar Focus

I am agoraphobic.  I believe I've mentioned.  So by nature, I am something of a homebody.  Sometimes, very much a homebody.  As in, I don't want to leave the home so my body stays right on inside where it belongs.

Don't get me wrong, I adore nature and think the world is a beautiful place.  I am equally enamored of the sea, the mountains, the plains - all of nature is a place of wonder and delight to me, and I revel in it.

But sometimes...

Well...

Sometimes I just can't handle the revelry.  Sometimes it's all just a bit too much.  It's not the nature, the openness, the vastness of the world that bothers me.  It's more the people.  Leaving my house means I must mingle among the mundanes.

Again, don't get me wrong, mundanes are often simply lovely folk.  A few of 'em, though...a few of 'em ought to be labelled, carry a sign, have a light or some doohicky that warns a body that they're not of the nicest sort.

Some days, I just can't muster what it takes to face the possibility of those sorts of mundanes.

On really bad days, I don't want to go get the mail, answer the phone, or even be online.  Too danged many people trying to suck the life out of me.

Occasionally, though, it doesn't much matter how much my crazy is doing the Cha-Cha in my brain - I have to go out.

I don't have pills for this, and I don't drink or take illicit drugs to deal with it.  I just...go all Nike...and do it.

Now, lest you are tempted to turn to the agoraphobe in your life and point and accusing finger with the addmonition "See, she can do it!", you should understand some things.

My van is a mobile safe place.  If I cannot get away with burrowing under the covers until the world plays nicely, I can at least feel a little better about leaving my home because I have Rosie the Mule and now Miss Tessbacher to cart me about.

A number of the places I go are sort of default okay places - this is why I drive past two other markets to get to my Publix and avoid the Evil Empire like the plague.  Also, my local Publix is full of nice people who know me, are good natured and kind-hearted, and some of whom know how to spot the signs of a bad day and are inclined to ease my passage through their world.

If I must leave my beloved van and enter into a foreign land (any place not in my regular pattern is Siberia to my beleaguered brain) and I do not have the children with me, I have music and earphones, which help remove me from the unpleasant physical reality I am experiencing and loft me to a place of sonic calm.

There are time when I am completely out of my comfort zone, though.  At the park, for example, where I cannot hide in the van or between earphones because I need to be watching my kids.  At the indoor play place.  Anywhere or any time I should be minding my children and not my crazy, in fact.

Those times, I focus. Not inward, but outward.  I hear it all, see it all, widen my perception to include everything.  Never mind trying to block out the too-much-ness of it all, I blast my neurons with input until they are so busy processing they can't fear.

It is exhausting.  I feel wrung out and empty after, like a small creek that has had a one-hundred-year flood and is now experiencing drought.

I don't like it, but it works.

I have been working it a lot, lately.  I really want to be at home, quiet, not dealing with what's outside my walls, but that's not an option right now.  Instead I must take a deep breathe, say a silent prayer, and take that leap into my peculiar focus.

Friday, May 10, 2013

Challenge.

The Evil Genius has a small surgical procedure this morning.  It's no big deal, but the recovery will be...umm...a challenge.  No running, jumping, climbing, lifting, bike riding, wrestling, or strenuous activity for two weeks.

Two.  Weeks.

We'll see who hast the worst time of it...

Wednesday, May 8, 2013

Evidence of Things Unseen

A cup of water on the table.

A sock on the living room floor.

One less Pop Tart in the cupboard.

A wet towel on the rack in the bathroom.

The occasional thump or thud heard from a distance.

An ever-increasing pile of laundry.

While I cannot prove anything, I believe there's a tween in residence at Casa de Crazy.  In an attempt to lure it out of its den and into open space, I am baking orange roll pull-apart bread.  If that doesn't do the trick, nothing will.

Wednesday, May 1, 2013

Me 'n' Jesus Have a Chat

I had one of my semi-recurring dreams last night.  I say "semi recurring" because the dreams happen fairly often, but they aren't always exactly the same.

In them, I am chatting with Jesus.

No, not the Jesus who hangs out in the Home Depot parking lot waiting for an offer for work - although he's worth chatting with because he's got an incredible work ethic, a really solid family foundation, and a keen sense of humor.

I mean the Jesus that so many people SAY they follow, but so often fall short of.

Oddly, me being pagan and all, he and I converse on a regular basis.  I think I amuse him.

So, last night we were chatting over tea and cinnamon rolls - he likes my cinnamon rolls - and he was a little...melancholy...

I asked him what was wrong...because I can be sympathetic once in a while if I make an effort.

"What's up, J?"  He lets me call him that because he knows I'm just teasing him.  So few people are playful with him.
"Oh, you know..."
"Maybe, but tell me anyway."
"Well...people kill in my name, and it makes me sad."
"Yeah...I don't understand why they do that."
"And they're fighting wars in my name.  That hurts."
"I bet, you being so peaceful and all."
"And they make laws in my name denying people equality!"
"Mm-hmm...guess they forgot the Samaritan."
"And they attack others, good people, just because those people don't go to my Father's house to worship."
"Uh-huh...and after you warned 'em not to cast the first stone..."
"Exactly!  I mean, all I asked was that people be compassionate, kind, and loving, that they leave the judging and all that to my Father and try to live decent lives."
"Sucks.  'Nother cinnamon roll?"
"Yeah, thanks...they're sinfully good."  He laughs at himself.
"Pfft.  So you wanna come hang out at a gathering some time?  I have a spare tent and you can borrow my drum as long as you don't pop the rings - they're a little warped.  And there's a place at my table for you if you want to sit with me..."
He smiles that sweet smile.  "Are you paraphrasing...?"
"Well, duh.  Anyway, you're always welcome to hang, you know.  I won't kill anyone in your name or start any wars or attack someone just because they don't worship you the right way (or at all), and I won't deny anyone food, clothing, medicine, education, or shelter just because they don't worship you."
"Sounds nice.  No fish, though...I'm kinda over fish..."
"'Kay.  Hey, Jesus, I need a favor..."
"You know how to make your own wine..."
"Heh...Cygnus does, anyway...but no, I wonder if you could maybe go visit the people who are shooting at, firebombing, and harassing a friend of mine...maybe show them how much she does for the community (more than THEY do, you can bet), maybe remind them about that whole judging and stone throwing thing?"
"Well...I can try...but you know how difficult it is for me to get anyone to really listen."
"Hey, thanks...I appreciate the effort."
"May I grab some of these to go?"  He indicates the cinnamon rolls, which are now back to their original numbers.
"Silly, of course.  Sure wish I knew that trick...could use it on a pile of twenties..."

He smiled his enigmatic smile and faded away, and I felt sorry for him.  Everything he endured in his father's name, for the sake of love and compassion, for the sake of people who didn't want him and repudiated him, for the sake of people who hadn't been born and might never follow his path...and the folks who claim to live and act in his name?  They ignore his teachings and use his name like a club to bludgeon the world into the shape they demand it take.

I think he comes and visits me in my dreams because there's no pressure.  I have no expectations, and I don't need him for anything.  We are, in a sense, equals - I contain the goddess within me, and he embodies his god on earth.

I wonder what the world would be like if more of HIS people acted like they truly followed HIS teachings...

I bet he'd smile more in my dreams...

Sunday, April 28, 2013

Dreams of Stone

I was standing in the field at my mother's house, nearby one of the hickory trees.  The grass was short.  The air was pleasantly fresh and cool, bespeaking spring.  I surveyed the field, head cocked, and said quietly, clearly "I want a house of stone."

With those six words I said so much more - I want a house unassailable, a house solid, a house that will hold generations safe within its walls, a house that even nature would admire and respect.  With those six words, I made something happen.

The ground beneath my feet trembled a little, a thrumming vibration that rose up my legs, hummed along my spine, and made my teeth buzz the tiniest bit.  Up from the earth, just where I had been considering its placement, stone rose.  Rooted in, born of, the bedrock, the house rose up with stately grace, settling into itself as if it had always been there, always would be there.

My house.

There were windows, great swaths of glass to let in air and light.  There was a porch wrapped entirely around it, an embrace between inside and out.  Chimneys spoke of fireplaces within, and I knew they would be large, friendly, inviting hearths suitable for warming nearby spaces.

There were, however, no doors on the outside.  The only way in was to know one was home.
~~~~~
Before me was a block of granite.  In my hands were hammer and chisel.  I could see what the block wanted to be, the lines and curvatures that yearned to be coaxed from the stone.  I knew, to the bone, that if I touched chisel to stone and tapped, I would ruin that dream-of-being.  I did not have the skill necessary to transform the block into what it was supposed to become.  Better to put the tools down and walk away than to dishonor it with imperfect skill.  I left it for more able hands than mine...
~~~~~
I was a statue on a plinth.  Unseen tools wielded by unseen hands struck invisible blows, chipping away at me bit by bit, slowly turning me to dust.  Just before the final blow landed, just before I became nothing but dust to be blown away by an unrelenting wind, I woke.

Saturday, April 20, 2013

This 'n' That.

Busy week.  I was in Gatlinburg on Monday and Tuesday, recording with two of my band-mates (K2 and Otter) and another band.  It was fun, a challenge, and I enjoyed it for the most part.  The drive up was beautiful - we took 441 through the Smoky Mountains.  I was afraid we couldn't because until Monday morning the rout was closed due to a landslide.  Just in time, it reopened.  Hurrah for us!

We left Gatlinburg Tuesday night and drove home - I was driving, no sense taking three vehicles.  I didn't get home until after 2:00 in the morning!  Wednesday I took the kids to the park, then started registration for the Grand Am race.  Grand Am pretty much took up the rest of the week.  I think it went well enough...at least, no one complained to me about anything.  I took the kids over with me and they had fun running about and playing in the dirt.  There's so much sand in our septic tank, the microbes probably have a resort...

I am looking forward to a hopefully quiet, uneventful Sunday, because next week is already looking busy, and somehow I have to squeeze in more studio time because one of my tracks needs to be relaid.  Then next weekend I am working at another race track as a control communicator, and then we are heading to Florida for a performance.  Whew.

I am exhausted, and there doesn't seem to be much of a respite in sight, but at least it's a good kind of busy.

How was your week?

Friday, April 12, 2013

Thoughtfetti

Monday is Mum's birthday...but instead of spending it with her I am going to Tennessee to guest-record with another band.  I hope she has a good day.
~~~~~
I used to tell people I am a writer.  I don't feel like a writer any more.  I don't feel like writing, and I don't feel that it matters.  I am tired of trying to carve seconds out of the day to cobble together a few weak sentences for a story no one's interested in and that doesn't go anywhere anyway.
~~~~~
I can't even manage a full-on blog post.
~~~~~
Yes, I am feeling sorry for myself.  My chosen craft is devalued or outright unwanted.  I am tired of chasing after people and begging them to look at what I've written.  I'm tired of feeling like I am whispering into the wind.  I am tired.
~~~~~
I am enjoying the process of recording.  I think this will be our best CD ever, not because of where or how we are recording but because we are working so hard at it.  Still...it is exhausting.  Frustrating.  I want it to be done perfect now, and that's not how it goes.
~~~~~
If I can't finish my part of the CD on Monday morning before K2, Otter, and I go to Tennessee, I won't be able to finish.  It won't matter...the things left undone are small percussion parts and I am probably the only person who will care...but I hope I can get them done on Monday.
~~~~~
Maybe I am still feeling sorry for myself.
~~~~~
I am grateful to be part of my band.  Individually, we are all okay, but together?  Somehow, our rough spots even out and we make musical magic.  I want to take the way I feel when we are deep in harmony and spread it throughout the rest of my life.
~~~~~
What makes you feel good?

Monday, April 8, 2013

Bear

It's funny, isn't it, the lasting impact a person can have on one's life?

I don't have any childhood friends.  I had friends as a child, though few, but none of them made it to this point in my life.  A lot of moving about will do that.

I keep loosely in touch with some people from my boarding school days...and I thought of them as friends then, but as some sort of curious, limbo relationship now.  I believe that if any of them should tell me they need me to come and help them, I would.

I have no contact with anyone from high school.  Again, I had a few friends, but our lives took us in vastly different directions, and whatever we had then, it was not strong or elastic enough to get to now.

College?  Best let that go.

A short time after college, I met Patrick.  Patrick and his lover Fred were the first gay men I ever knew as gay, open, living their lives together.  I adored them.  Once, Fred made me breakfast on my birthday.  He was a marvelous cook, was Fred.  About a week later, he died.

We combined his ashes with an ex-lovers's and scattered him somewhere I won't name for legal reasons.

Through Patrick, I met Bear.  His name wasn't Bear, but that's what I called him almost from the start.  We played ExCom, UFO Defense until all hours, sometimes all night and into the day.  His boyfriend didn't appreciate it.  Neither did Mum, with whom I lived at the time.  We soaked in the hot tub and laughed like loons together.  We played D&D.  Mum tolerated it better than the lover did.

When I moved out of Mum's house, it was into an apartment with Bear and his lover M (who, it turns out, really didn't like the idea but had no say because he didn't pay the bills)(and resented me deeply).  We would often go not-so-skinny dipping in the complex's pool.  When I moved out from that apartment and into my own place, it was within walking distance, and Bear and I spent many days and nights together, friends always.  Through Bear I met JS, Otter, and K2, as well as Joelicious.  When I hurt my back and couldn't move my legs, it was Bear and Joelicious who picked me up, straightened me out, folded me into a vehicle and drove me to the hospital.

These became my net, my web, my Tribe.  Because of them I met PJ, Butterfly (who died on my birthday, drifting from this world on the notes of the songs we sang him), Straws, Sexy E, and a host of others.

We made music together.  When some of us wanted to get more serious, we split our band in two.  They kept the name, we kept the original music (mostly because I wrote it and wasn't going to give up my right to sing what I wrote).  In many ways, it was a bitter parting.  Bear had hard words over it, and we drifted apart for a time.

Not long ago, we struck up a sporadic thread of a conversation...an e-mail here and there, a friend request on Facebook.

I kept track of him through others, always hoping he was happy, had a loving partner (he was not an easy Bear to live with, and good partners are thin on the ground, you know).

I had hopes that we would reconnect, silly old Bear and I, that he would meet my children and, rightly, adore them...and that they would climb him (he was quite large) and hug him and tease him, pull his beard, love him as Mama's friends are loved.

He died today.  On April 7, Shayne Michael Patrick, silly old Bear, the one person with whom I could do tandem Tarot/Rune readings, the man I once told I would carry a baby for as soon as he could keep a houseplant alive for more than a year, the man who helped transform me from the scared, scarred, introvert in the corner to the woman on the stage, the man with the sometimes gross, often earthy, usually loud sense of humor stepped through the veil and left a large, empty place in this world that will not soon be filled.

I will be looking for you to return, Bear...a spirit so large, loud, and hilarious can't possibly linger long on the other side.  I'll be waiting...

Saturday, April 6, 2013

Thoughtfetti

Started recording Friday at Root Cellar Music Studio.  Good times, well run, productive - we may get this done in time for our first event, after all.
~~~~~
Sprout has been sick - vomiting, diarrhea, fever...poor little thing...she acts chipper and happy, then she'll get listless, vomit, and nap on Mama for a bit in the morning...afternoons, she seems okay except for wanting a little more love and nap time.
~~~~~
Recording again Monday and Tuesday, a marathon for us, but I have hope it will see us finish...and well worth it.
~~~~~
I'll be in Gatlinburg on the sixteenth, guest-recording for Tuatha Dea on their new CD.  I am so excited - I adore them, and was mighty chuffed to be asked!
~~~~~
Despite recording and feeling like I am DOING SOMETHING...I am battling an ugly depression and feel myself losing ground.  Being "Mom" means I can't hide or sleep or just take off and lose myself for a few days, which is a blessing and a curse.  This feeling of futility and constant weariness can go away any time, fine with me.
~~~~~
I'm tired of politics.  I am tired of politicians.  I am tired of people constantly battling it out with cartoons and quips and cooked statistics on Facebook and implying that anyone who doesn't agree with THEM is either evil or stupid.  I am neither (on a good day) and resent the implication.
~~~~~
I will muddle through, somehow, but if I keep crying this much I am going to be dehydrated...
~~~~~
Did I mention I am looking forward to recording with Tuatha Dea?  'Cause I am.  Added to the fun, K2 and Otter will be coming, too, so we'll get to have some time together like we used to get before we all got married or employed and life kinda took over.
~~~~
Someone did a serious clean-up of our bathroom, and now there's no more kitty litter in the tub (falls off their paws when they jump in and up onto the window sill) so I am thinking there's a nice, long soak in my near future.  Sweet!
~~~~~
What're you up to these days?

Wednesday, April 3, 2013

The Beat Goes On

We begin recording our eighth CD on Friday.  Thursday is our final full rehearsal day.  This weekend we'll take a break, then it's back to the studio for Monday and Tuesday.  We have high hopes we'll finish in three days.  If we don't, it's going to be fun finding more time - April is jam packed for all of us in one way or another.

Here's hoping...

Monday, April 1, 2013

They're Such High-Maintenance Critters

I am keeping some Peeves as pets.

They start out small, almost unnoticeable, but with time and attention they grow quite large.  Each Peeve has its own special diet and housing needs, a challenge when you have an entire herd of 'em roaming about the grounds.

There are indoor Peeves and outdoor Peeves, and they don't mingle.  They're a little anti-social, Peeves.  They don't often interact with each other, preferring to remain aloof in their individual demesnes.  Oh, sure, the kitchen Peeves will interact with each other if they must, as will the living room, bathroom, and closet Peeves - mingling with their own kind isn't as trying for them as is socializing with other types of Peeves.  They are constantly mumbling and buzzing and reminding a body that they're about, even when they can't be seen.  They don't like to languish, preferring to be the center of attention, much to the consternation of all the other Peeves who feel the same way.  Indoor Peeves are a variety of shapes and sizes, but they all excel at being present without being seen, and feeding them requires a little effort, diet being determined by their location within the home.  Try to feed a kitchen Peeve the hall Peeve's lunch and you'll have one angry Peeve.

Outdoor Peeves are wild and woolly looking.  Their care and feeding is simple enough - just let them alone and they'll find plenty of fodder in the yard and garden.  They like to hide and leap out at unsuspecting folk, roaring and gnashing their teeth.  They're capricious, those outdoor Peeves, sometimes docile, sometimes ferocious, and never a hint what they're going to be like today until they're upon you.

Lately, I've been thinking I should thin the herd a little.  Trouble is, finding homes for Peeves isn't exactly easy.  It's not like I can advertise on Craig's List or sell 'em on eBay.  People want their own Peeves, and generally aren't looking to take on an adopted one.  Fostering is right out - Peeves don't thrive on uncertainty.

I could, I suppose, just set them out in the wild and let them sink or swim, as it were.  Quite a few of them are fully mature and ought to be able to fend for themselves if only they would.  They're lazy, though - domestic Peeves are spoiled and will fail to thrive if removed from their accustomed nests, perches, or burrows.

Perhaps you, dear reader, could use a few extra Peeves around the joint?  You know, just to liven things up a little?  Do let me know - I'll even pay the freight.

Saturday, March 30, 2013

Important PSA - No, Really, You Should Watch This

Got this via Mum's Facebook page.  Oh, my.  It turns out I can drool and laugh at the same time!
Source: youtube.com via Megan on Pinterest

Thursday, March 28, 2013

Thoughtfetti

All of a sudden, my April is jam-packed with days that do not involve curling up on the lounge with the kids, watching movies, and not going out into the world.  May is beginning to look the same way.  I am trying not to look at the calendar because it's making me itch.
~~~~~
My band did it...we managed to garner $10,000 in pledges on Kickstarter, so we can make out new CD.  Recording begins next week.  Whew.
~~~~
Sprout is enamored of Yo Gaba Gaba.  If I don't pay too much attention, it is bearable.  She got ahold of the remote one day and found Barney.  I wasn't home, so Someone had to bear the brunt of it for two minutes before she got bored with it and he could change the channel.  We both allow as how Gaba is preferable, if only just...
~~~~~
Shaun the sheep, however, is not only bearable but a favorite among children and adults alike in Casa de Crazy.  The felines have not voiced an opinion.
~~~~
The man on Yo Gaba Gaba who does the drawings?  I want to punch him repeatedly in the face.  I'm sure he's perfectly nice when he isn't on the show...
~~~~~
After my band is done recording, I will be going to Tennessee to guest-record for another band that I adore...I can't decide which of us is more excited...
~~~~~
I was extravagant and bought myself a little speaker for my phone, so I can listen to music.  It lights up, and the light changes colors.  It delights me.  Small things...
~~~~~
I wonder about this whole marriage equality thing.  Principally, I wonder why it is such a big deal in the legal world.  Marriage is a religious institution.  If a church doesn't want to permit it to certain people, it's that church's right.  For the record, I think such a church is being an ass.  The government has nothing to do with it.  Laws should not be made about it.  No one should benefit from or be punished for marriage or not-marriage.  If the government is going to make laws about marriage or any kind of coupling, then those laws must apply to everyone.  No exceptions.  You can't just go making laws for SOME of the populace and not ALL of the populace.  Also, hello, separation of church and state, anyone?
~~~~~
I am an ordained minister.  Stop laughing, you'll hurt yourself.  I have performed several gay marriages.  The world did not end.
~~~~~
I find it odd that the Jehovah's Witnesses invited me to a celebration of Jesus's death.  Morbid and weird.  They won't celebrate his alleged birth, but his death?  Party on!!!
~~~~~
Sprout is fearless and likes to climb things.  This does not bode well for her early years...
~~~~~
What's on your mind?

Monday, March 25, 2013

Which Way Did She Go, George?

Sometimes I get the feeling that I was supposed to turn out differently, and the me I was supposed to be is wandering around trying to find the me that I am so she can get her life back.

Sometimes I am struck with the feeling that I am living other lives concurrent with this one, and they are aware of me in the moments I'm aware of them, and maybe during one of those aware moments we accidentally switched places and now we're trying to figure out how we got HERE when we should be THERE.

Often I feel that, whatever else the case may be, part of me is lost out there in the great Beyond, and if I could only find that piece of me, I could figure out what I am supposed to be doing, because I am not myself, I am not as I should be, I am not where I should be...but I have no idea how to get to that place...

What happened?

Monday, March 18, 2013

Who Wants Music On Monday?

Because I am tired, it's late, and I'm feeling a little...I dunno...  And because today (I was going to say "tomorrow" but "tomorrow" turned into "today" while I was typing, and does anyone else ever get a little dizzy when dealing with time and tense like that?) I am spending the day with Mum since I have double rehearsals and recording, and weekend work to boot, for the next few weeks so I won't be able to go up and spend they day with her again for almost a month (gah!)...  Here's a piece of music that I enjoyed from a movie that I still enjoy when I can watch it...

What are some of your favorite movie soundtrack gems?

Thursday, March 14, 2013

Four, Like a Clover

Fourth time I'm posting this, but why mess with perfection, eh? Why do I hear crickets...?
~~~~~
 I'll be cooking corned beef and cabbage on Sunday, much to my family's delight - a double lot of the beef will ensure we all have a surfeit and hash the next day. I'll try to remember to take some up to Mum next time I see her...if there's any left... Bird likes the meat fine, but not the cabbage, and he doesn't want the potatoes, which leads me to wonder if any of the scant Irish in my veins made it to him. I get not liking cabbage, but potatoes? Something's not right with the child. Someone will happily scarf the lot, because he's a good Irish lad.

I'm planning on baking soda bread, too, because we like it and any leftovers can be used to make a nice doorstop or stone axe.

Seeing as I'm Pagan, you wouldn't think I'd celebrate St. Patrick's Day. Better than most, I know what St. Patrick did to get famous and earn his sainthood. However, I'm also part Irish, and I happen to love corned beef and cabbage. Also, I consider it a reclaiming of the day for Pagans, or some junk.

A bit of slightly bent history (that has, I'll grant you, been mangled in my head over the years and is rather truncated because I'm not writing a book, here)(I'm writing a book somewhere else). When I was a child, we were told that St. Patrick's day was to celebrate his chasing all the snakes out of Ireland. It is an historically serpent-free bit of earth, and the church attributed this to Paddy and his efforts...kind of overlooking that there weren't any of the slithery things on the island to begin with, if you ask me. Which they didn't, because I was a kid and most grown-ups weren't prepared for my staggering logic and keen grasp of history but rather appalling lack of respect for theology.

 Many years later, people were saying St. Patrick's Day was a celebration of all things Irish, like green beer (wait, isn't beer German??) and green clothes, and green hair, and green mashed potatoes (which I won't eat on a dare because, really...green potatoes???), and rivers dyed green (I'm sure the fish are all so very thankful to be included...like Fridays and Lent weren't enough for them!)(that might only be funny if you're Catholic)(or not) and exclusionary parades, and funny little men waving their shillelaghs about (look it up you pervs!!) and that sort of thing.

 In none of the many different explanations for this seemingly random holiday did anyone mention pagans. A most curious oversight of you know what St. Patrick, who was just Patrick at the time (not really, I have no idea what his real name was. For all I know, it was Fred), was actually doing on the Emerald Isle.

He was born and lived sometime between 490 and 461 AD, give or take. Around age sixteen, he was either sent or stolen and taken to Ireland where he spent some time hanging out with sheep and being lonely. He talked to God a lot. You may notice that lots of shepherds do that. You would too if all you had for company all day was a bunch of mutton-heads. I'm sure the Pope understands...

Christianity was rolling along like a snowball in those days, spreading out all over the dang place. Good grief, it was getting so that a simple Pagan/Heathen (there's a difference between the two, not that the church cared much) couldn't get any peace any more. Everywhere they turned, there was a church being built where a sacred grove used to be, from the trees that used to be the sacred grove, or a church going up on a sacred hill, or someone bathing their dirty feet in a sacred stream. To be fair, there was a lot of real estate lumped under that "sacred" heading in the pagan world. We're like that - we just love our planet so. Plus, you know, all those gods needed housing, and they don't do the roommate thing very well. So the pagans were running out of places to have sex on the ground, in the woods, up a tree - they were big on the sex, those little devils - and to read entrails in their spare time.

I digressed. Sorry.

So there was this lonely kid, Patrick Whatsisname, hanging out with sheep and pondering life, the Universe, and everything. He got the idea, somewhere along the way, that maybe other folks should share his God. He got out of his contract (OK, probably slavery) and went around telling folks how terrific his God was, and how he reckoned they should convert. It seems that polite conversation wasn't doing it for the pagans, who tended to stare at him, or point and laugh. Rude beggars, huh? Now young Patrick (or middle aged Patrick, or old Patrick, I have no idea) decided he needed to be a bit more...persuasive. He had noticed something common among the pagan big-wigs. The guys at the top of the food-chain, magic/spirituality wise speaking tended to have a symbol on them somewhere...usually around their wrist. On the wrist that indicated their "hand of power", or the hand which they believed their "magic" flowed from. If it wasn't a tattoo, it was a torque. Guess what the tattoo/torque was? A critter called the oroborus. For them as what doesn't ken what that critter is, it's a snake eating its tail, and often represents eternity.
Pat realized that if he took away this "power", he took away their mystique and leadership ability. So he removed the snakes - often with something edged and unpleasant. Yes, he whacked off their hands. Or branded their skin. Or took their trinkets. Converting Heathens is such messy work!! It was for their own good, of course.

Some pagans today go on "snake crawls", a sort of pub crawl where they wear snakes and proclaim their paganism. I'm not quite that...er...proactive. I also don't necessarily think old Pat went around mauling everyone he met in an effort to build church membership and win a nifty prize. But it's the bloody aspect of what he did that earned his name in Christendom and for which his holiday is celebrated.

So again, why would I celebrate the day? Well, I'm all for a day when families get together and discuss history, theology, spirituality, and the like. Traditions are important - they give us a foundation on which to build our lives. People should discuss their history so they don't repeat it - whatever side of the issue they're on. Also, as I mentioned, I am part Irish. I can celebrate that heritage even as I acknowledge its imperfection. And I am Pagan - and I am celebrating the fact that I can be pagan today without (much) fear of having my (largely not visible when I'm clothed) tattoos painfully removed and other unpleasantness (except for the odd zealot who thinks I'm fair game, but I'm used to that. I live in the Bible belt, after all). Precisely because we didn't get wiped out, I celebrate. And have you ever had a really nice corned beef and cabbage dinner? I mean, yum! Oh, but I won't be wearing green. I wear blue. Don't even think about pinching me.

Monday, March 11, 2013

Clouds In My Coffee, Clouds In My Coffee

I was at this concert with my Dad.  On of my few memories of time we spent together.  I love this song.


Bonus points if you know who this song is about...

Saturday, March 9, 2013

And Then She Laughs

Unselfconscious, yet so very aware of her pull, aware that somehow, mysteriously, her presence shifts the tides, she hurtles through space, flings herself into the air, and knows without doubt that arms will stretch to catch her before flight turns to fall.

She caroms from place to place, wee juggernaut with a maniacal giggle and feral grin, she knows without knowing that tears are not supposed to fall so often, and with a tenderness belying her scant years, she reaches to wipe them away before whirling back into her dance-of-the-rooms.

Irresistible, she pulls her brother into her pattern, making him her landing zone, her tormentor, her plaything, her conspirator.

In the midst of it all, in the chaos and confusion, in the place of the lost, it can seem like too much.

And then...she laughs...

Thursday, March 7, 2013

SLAMmed

Sad.
Lonely.
Angry.
Mom.

SLAM.

Yup.

That about sums up what I feel defining me, lately.

Sad.  Sorrowful.  Full of sorrow.  Yeah.  Wearing thin, this depression thing.  Looking back at the years I can remember of my life (does anyone recall their first year?  their second?  third?), I am sometimes stunned at how long I've carried this particular stone.  Looking forward, wondering how many years I have remaining  to my span, I wonder if I will simply carry it to the veil.  Surely not beyond...death is supposed to be an end, a respite, isn't it?  I certainly hope so.  This stone gets so heavy, I get so tired, I just want to rest, to sleep for days on end.  Of course, I can't - there are cats and kids and laundry and dishes and life in general to contend with, and none of those things really allow for the self-indulgent lay-up I sometimes yearn for.  Napping with Sprout will have to suffice.  Already, I miss so much, am so behind in cleaning and nurturing and just getting things done...sigh...  I'm tired of crying.

Lonely.  How on earth do I manage that, with two kids, four cats, Someone, and scads of friends?  Maybe lost would be a better word...but no...I am not lost.  I know right where I am, know just how I got here.  I am lonely.  I feel empty, devoid of some basic, soul-nurturing thing that seems abundant in people around me but absent from my own life.  It's not the lack of God - one of the most reassuring, bracing things in my life is my connection to the divine that I call "Goddess".  There's not as much music, and I miss that...and not as much art, which I also miss.  There is almost no laughter or joy, and what there is comes strained, with furtive glances to be sure it's not too intrusive.  I often feel silenced, as if my voice, my expression of Self, is just not welcome.  I get scoffed at a lot, and chastised, and downright yelled at, and it is difficult to feel as though I am heard, or wanted, when it seems everything I do is just...wrong.  As if everything I was and am are...wrong.  If only I could do or be something different, learnt to do or be another way...  If only I could transform into what Someone thinks I should be rather than remaining so very wrong that disapprobation overwhelms me...

Angry.  Oh, my, so very angry.  I have absorbed and absorbed and absorbed so much anger, I cannot filter it all.  I am steeped in it, and it oozes out of me and taints everything I touch.  Small things madden me, so that I want to scream and rage and say and do ugly things to make it all reflect the ugliness within me.  I breathe in, breathe out, try to ground, try to center, but the ground is gone in a whirling, hateful mess and wherever I am, it is so far from center that I can't see center from here.  I need...I don't know what I need...but I need...something..and I can't seem to have it.  Whatever the elusive balm is, it slips away with the flutter of moth's wings just as I reach for it.  The harder I look for balance, the less I seem to find.  Frustrated, I swallow it all, because there is no room in my world for my feelings...not where anyone else has to face them or deal with them.

Mom.  I am a mother.  That is sacred.  It is enormous.  It is marvelous and awesome and terrifying.  It is exhausting.  There is no manual.  We can't even know how to do it right, but there are plenty of people who will tell us we're doing it wrong.  Seems anyone with an opinion feels entitled to tell us how wrong we are, how we should be doing it.  I am supposed to put my kids' need before my own, but I haven't been and I know it.  I am being selfish, and it's damaging them, and I know just how horrible I am for doing it, and I know that any damage that may be done to them is my fault and no one else's.  Guilt eats at me, and doubt, and I wonder every day when I will do the right thing, but I shrink away from it every day because I am weak, I am a coward.  Being Mother is perhaps the biggest thing I have been or ever will be...and I hate that sometimes I simply want to go be alone somewhere quiet and let someone else take care of these amazing children in my absence.  I am convinced anyone else can do it neater, sweeter, kinder and more compassionate than I am capable of...that maybe these children would be better off without my ineptitude fumbling their childhood into the muck and mire that surrounds me.

So, yeah, slammed...shaken and shattered and just damned tired...but life goes on...and on...and on...

Monday, March 4, 2013

Thoughtfetti

I'm going to the dentists tomorrow.  I haven't been in...umm...maybe not quite a decade?  Yeah, this'll be fun...
~~~~~
My children are trying to kill each other in the living room.  I hope they put the cushions back when they're done.
~~~~~
I hand-fed Gimpy the ring-neck snake today.  It is both gross and cool - gross because I have to chop earthworm into tiny bits that he can manage, and cool because, well...just cool.  Also, I put a few drops of water on my finger and he drank, which is just too nifty.  I think the other two snakes are jealous...they keep gliding along the glass of their shared tank, staring at me...but they can hunt on their own, so I don't feel too bad about it.
~~~~~
I am surfing waves of depression right now - it comes over me in a rush, a sense of futility, uselessness, sorrow, and frustration, and I grab my board and ride.  So far, no wipe out.  After 25 years of it, I can hang ten, but I still wonder why I bother.  Sigh.
~~~~~
I am tired of anger.  Mine.  Other people's.  There is so much anger in the world, these days.  It is a heavy stone to carry, but every time I try to put it down, I am handed a new one, and I still haven't learned not to accept the load.  Double sigh.
~~~~~
My band is trying to raise the money to record another CD, in a more formal studio setting.  We are looking for folks to pledge/sponsor/fund our project.  Would you check us out, please?  Feel free to share...
~~~~~
A swept floor attracts dirt faster than a dirty one.  That's my story and I'm sticking to it...and the floor...
~~~~~
What's on your mind?

Friday, March 1, 2013

Falcon

If I could fly like that
cutting across the face of the wind
unruffled
If I could fly like that
wheeling, climbing, diving
as if gravity was for those more
earthbound
If I could fly like that
flinging myself earthward
until with a
snap
I stop the mad rush
If I could fly like that

Would I wonder what it was to walk?

Or...would I be so caught in the screeching freedom of the skies,
that I would simply soar oblivious
to the dreamers below?