Dreamgirl

Once upon a time, a long time ago...when most stories begin, in a house far, far away, where most stories take place, there lived a girl with her mother...

Well...I wasn't a girl, really. Technically I was past"girl" and well into at least "young woman", closer to"adult" and "hey, why aren't you making payments on your own house by now?".

I had a few friends, not many.

One of my friends was a nice young man, handsome fellow, bisexual and coming to terms with that. He was a poet, clever, and good-hearted. Of course, I had a wicked crush on him. Of course, I didn't dare say or do anything about that - I was afraid I'd run him off. That was deep into my "really, no one wants me, I fat, I'm ugly, and I'm damaged goods" phase of life, and I just knew if I made my feelings known, he'd be justifiably horrified.

We used to sit on the front steps and talk late into the night.

Of course he figured out I had feelings for him...and poor fellow, he felt just awful that he didn't reciprocate. He let me down gently, bless him, and we segued into more solid friendship without a hitch.

Except...

Well. There was one little hitch. Red haired, grey eyed, sweet and impish, she relentlessly pursued me through my dreams. I whispered her name in my sleep. Of course I knew her name...she was my daughter. Well...not really. But..really.

Every night, night after night, I dreamed about her, this little girl. She giggled, frolicked, and romped her way through my dreams. In the waking world, I saw red-headed children everywhere. They were surrounding me, suddenly.

I stopped sleeping.

I couldn't bear it, seeing this girl who never was and never would be, combination of me and my friend (he had red hair, freckles). We'd never had The Sex or anything...she was a phantom, cooked up by my brain, a combination of my heartfelt hope to one day have a daughter and my affection for my friend, meant to torture me because my brain is hurtful and mean like that.

Eventually my friend moved out of state. The dreams faded. Life went on.

From time to time, I would dream of her, and I would dread her appearance. There was no rhyme or reason to her visits - she'd pop in for a night or three and then be on her merry way without any indication why she'd come or how long she'd be gone. She didn't always look the same, but she was the same child nonetheless.

Always, I dreaded her. Not that she was evil or did anything awful...but the morning after she visited, I would wake feeling empty and hurt.

Even after I had the Evil Genius (whom I love beyond all reason), she would pay infrequent calls. I tried explaining to her that the Evil Genius was it...there would be no more children after him. Not that I can't have them, but that I won't. She doesn't care that I won't compromise Bird's quality of life to satisfy my need for a daughter. I've resisted her for nearly twenty years.

That's a long time to fight a phantom, especially one that represents something you ache for.

If I'd had her when I first dreamt of her, she'd be in college by now...coming home to do laundry, raid the fridge, terrorize the cats and horrify her mother with tales of campus life, and I'd still be losing sleep over her.

Well, she's back.

There's nothing significant in this, don't panic (I can hear my Mum's heart pounding from here). She's just a dream, and as far as I know that's all she'll ever be. She doesn't mean I'm pregnant, about to win the lottery, or eating too much cheese. Just a dream.

Katherine Saoirse, my dreamgirl, back to visit her nevermum.

No Doz, anyone?

One Tree

I had a rough start yesterday. I wrote a blog about it. It was a whiny blog. I did not like it. I deleted it.

I had to run an errand or two, which meant leaving the house. I did not want to. I wanted to retract into the house like a snail and avoid the world that was bothering me until it went away. Still. I promised a friend I'd bake a cake for her son's birthday. You cannot promise a birthday cake and not deliver. There's a special place in perdition for people who promise cake and don't deliver. I do not intend to go there, not even to visit. Also, I do not break my word, ever, for any reason, period.

So out I went, to run my errands, Evil Genius in tow.

I saw the sky. I saw the trees. I saw the light, pouring over everything.

I came home, grabbed the camera, and went out the front door shooting. Thank you, tree.

Where Gods Live

I used to say "God is why. Not the answer, the question."

Talk to a young child and you'll understand. They ask "Why?" a lot. Why is the sky blue? Why can't I stick a fork in the outlet? Why?

For every question you answer, they have another waiting in the wings. If you're reasonably intelligent, reasonably educated, you can go a long time before you get to "I don't know."

But when you get to "I don't know" you've found one of the places where Gods dwell. Eventually, no matter how smart we are, no matter how much we know...we come to the place where we don't have an answer. Thanks to science and technology, that place is a long way off from our daily life, but it's still there. The place of mystery, of unanswered questions, the murky dark where there be dragons...and Gods.

I've heard it said that Science killed God. Respectfully, I disagree. Certainly, Science has removed some of the mystery behind the world in which we live...but for every answer it finds, more questions come up, and eventually I think even Science will come to a stumbling halt at the final "Why?" and go to its knees.

I think, too, that Gods live in uncertainty. I can make every effort to choose wisely, to walk with eyes open, knowingly, along my oath...but there will inevitable come a time when I find the trail divided, and have no way to know what will happen down the way. Which trail do I take, which choice to I make? Ah...there the Gods are, hovering in the background, silently helping me feel my was along until I can find my own way again. Even when I've chosen a rougher road, I know they're there when I need them, lending an arm to lean on, helping when I falter or fail, dusting me off and setting me right again.

I've felt them in my life, my Gods and Goddesses, felt their warm presence, their love, their joy...never have I felt them punishing me (I do that to myself better than they could), but often have I felt them bolstering me when I felt small and weak in the Universe.

They live in "Why?" and in "Help!", in sea and stone and cloud and sun, and in me. How about you?

I'm Pretty Sure She'll Recover

Ahem.

If you have delicate sensibilities, you may want to go find something else to read, today.

Seriously.

Not kidding.

OK, then, read on if you will...but you were warned.
~~~~~
I take several medications, when I can afford them. One of those medications causes some unfortunate side effects. Not all the time, only when I eat things that I shouldn't. So...all the time, then.

I'm talkin' gas, people, and I don't mean fuel - although I could power a space shuttle with my output, when it's really fierce.

Not polite, ladylike toots.

Eruptions of epic proportions.

Couple that with my recent mass consumption of pumpkin seeds (I can't stop eating them, dear Goddess, they're so good, someone please help me), which also tend to create...erm...a situation...and there's good reason to fear for your life around Casa de Crazy these days.

Thank you, Goddess, Someone is not here to witness this outbreak, or he might run for the hills, never to return.

This morning, Rook wasn't so lucky.

When I woke, it was to a familiar sensation - venting was imminent. Cats were curled in various strategic places around me, happy to share the blankets and the occasional pet. I couldn't get up in a hurry without causing havoc, and anyway, it's just gas, so I closed my eyes, said a silent apology to the ozone layer, and let her rip.

Flabadabadabadabadap!

Whew.

There was a wee squeak near the end. Huh.

Then, wriggling.

Then Rook emerged from under the covers, dazed, scorched, and more than a little cross-eyed. She staggered left. She staggered right. She shook her head, sneezed, and squeaked again. She looked back to where she'd been, shook herself, staggered again...and fell off the bed.

Whoopsie.

She's still walking a little sideways...

Punk(in)d

I didn't get many photos of the pumpkin fun - too busy taking part. It was raining when I took pictures of the jack-o-lanterns outside, so they aren't great, either...but hopefully they'll do.

Mum and Someone opted for Pumpkin Masters patterns. Usually I do one of those, too, but this year I wanted to freehand a design.
Mum was checking Someone out. You know how Mums can be - protective of their young.

Someone pretended not to notice. But he did floor Mum when he mentioned cleaning the cat box that morning...because he noticed it needed doing. I know!!

Rook wanted in on the fun...

We carved for a couple of hours and placed the results on the steps. I did two, mine and Bird's. He scooped out the innards and drew a design on his, but I'm still not comfortable giving him a sharp blade and setting him loose on a hapless squash.

My friend and sister of my heart, K, brought this one with her:

Here's Mum's:

The one I took without the flash, all glowy and cool, didn't turn out. Dang. I think they show better without the flash.

Here's Someone's:

Cool, huh??

Here's my silly face:

Hey, I drew that bad boy freehand! A bit simplistic, but considering my artistic endeavors usually result in poorly drawn stick figures...

Bird's design, drawn on with a pen and carved out by his bemused mother with a tiny saw:

I think it's a biclops, but don't quote me on that. Happy little thing, whatever it is.

Did you carve pumpkins? Do you prefer patterns or more traditional designs?

What Say You?

The Playoffs Were Never This Much Fun

I know, I know, y'all want pumpkin pics. Well...they'll come...later. I like writing about the week in chronological order. I'm OCD like that.

Since we were up late Wednesday night, we all slept late Thursday morning. I made blueberry pancakes for breakfast, and Someone had a present for Bird - a ball and glove! Well, the day being fine and nothing else pressing, we had to go outside and try them out. After a little time trying the glove on both hands and trying to catch with it, Bird wanted to bat.

Someone showed him how to hold the bat and told him how to swing.

Then they had a discussion about running bases, foul balls, outs, or something like that. I don't speak Baseball very well, and between bouts of photographing, I was doing yard work.

After the chat, it was time to toss a few! That speck in the center of the top third is the ball, flying high. Umm...Sir? I believe you're supposed to fling the thing toward the batter...

Ahh...that's better...

I didn't get any pictures of them playing Frisbee or kicking the big balls around...I was trimming bushes and removing saplings and weeding, things I can't often get done outside because I'm usually the one playing with the relentless bundle of energy that is my son. I enjoyed seeing and hearing the kids...er...my son and Someone...at play.

Between bouts of kicking, catching, and occasionally retrieving balls from treetops, Someone hauled all my trimmings to the compost pile. Wow!

We retired indoors after three hours of perpetual motion. Bird had quiet time, and Someone and I sat on the front steps and enjoyed a little quiet time with the wildlife.

Thursday evening, we headed down to Borders, where Someone was lightly grilled met my discussion group/friends.

That about sums up Thursday. An ordinary sort of day from the outside looking in, I'm sure...but lovely from my perspective.

Swan Song

Don't panic...it's just a blog title. I didn't want to call this one "thoughtfetti", although it is somewhat scattered. This entry's pre-written, because I had/have to get up super early Sunday morning to take Someone back to the airport. Not hat I wanted to, and forgetting to set the alarm is/was awfully tempting...sigh...


But...if he doesn't go home, he can't come back. And come back he will. Yep. But that's all I have to say about that...for now...


So...maybe instead I should call this Swanfetti? Yeah...I like that.


If you know who Someone is, you'll get that. If not, well...chalk it up to lack of sleep or too much pumpkin cake or something.
~~~~~
I drove to the airport for the first time in years. Whew. Parking was...adventurous. Because of the later hour, though, once we managed to get into the parking deck, there we plenty of spaces near the door we wanted. Sweet!

Bird was excited to meet Someone, but he forgot about that for a few minutes when we stood outside and watched planes taking off and landing. He was enchanted.

We watched people debarking from the plane, and a soldier came along. Evil Genius and I both said "Thank you!" to the nice man, who smiled and thanked us back. I think we may have made his evening.

The Evil Genius was quite reserved upon first meeting Someone, but he soon got over that. They've spent the last few days playing together - baseball, Frisbee, soccer, kickball, on the swing set, in the yard, and inside the house. Pictures will follow in a day or two, when I've recovered from late nights, early mornings, and an active household.

Some things my son has said recently:

"I didn't like that, but it was fun!" when Someone lifted him onto his shoulder for a turn around the living room.

"I was like a pickle between two soft buns!" when he was hugging Someone and I joined in, smushing the little guy between us.

I've more to tell, but it'll have to wait...I want to spend the last bit of time I can with this man I love before he has to go home...for now...

Samhain

Samahin. All Hallows Eve. Hallowe'en. Halloween.

While little (and not so little) people are out extorting candy from strangers (On the one night a year Mum and Dad aren't telling them NOT to take candy from strangers, and isn't that a mixed message?)(And if you don't think it's extortion, think about it - "Give me a treat or I'll play a prank on you" is exactly that - extortion), more than a few pagans are spending the evening in an entirely different fashion.

Samhain (pronounced "sawin") is sometimes called the Witches' New Year. It's thought to be the time of year when the veil between the worlds is thinnest, and so best suited for speaking with our dead, with those who passed on in the previous year. On Samhain, our living God dies, and until he is born again on Yule the Goddess and all the world mourns him. Poor Goddess, carrying her child alone for the next two months - throughout eternity she must suffer this loss before she can know her joy once more. Don't worry if you don't get it - it's a cyclic thing, a nature thing, and a deeply, weirdly Pagan thing.

Some will have large meetings, solemnly chant and circle the fire, call upon the gods of old. Some will dance wildly around bonfires, drumming, singing, shrieking, leaping the flames, looking for all the world like the imps and devils we were once purported to be. Some will just hand out candy and let the night pass, and some will put out the lights, draw the blinds, and pretend not to be home. A few (Pagan and non) will look for and find trouble. Most will feast, drink, and hold the dumb supper - the meal placed out for the those who've gone through the veil - whether alone or in numbers. These days, none who are truly Pagan will sacrifice anything more than a glass of wine and/or a plate of food to the fire, the earth, the old gods.

This year I will have a house-load of folks hanging about - Mum, my friends A, Kit (sans kids), Gypsy (also minus children), K and her husband and daughter, and Someone. I've spent the last month cleaning room after room, and re-cleaning, and finally feel that the house is shaping up to be a home again and not a pen, a sty, or a storage bin. I have a few pumpkins to carve, one each for me, Mum, Someone, and Bird. In past years, I've had them for everyone, but things are tighter this year...so everyone else is bringing their own. They don't seem to mind, though.

Last week, I roasted several small pumpkins and made pumpkin puree - enough for three cakes, so I'm set for the holidays. I also roasted the seeds, because yum!

We'll carve pumpkins, the lot of us, and nosh the snacks I've put out. I'll roast the seeds and may even share them. At dusk, we'll light the jack-o-lanterns and take the kids out for their bit of begging. T will come pick up the Evil Genius and take him to his neck of the woods for another round of candy-garnering, then keep him overnight for some father-son bonding.

If the night is fine, we'll fire up the outdoor fireplace and sit out on the drive reminiscing about the past, about family and friends long gone but not forgotten. I may or may not mull some cider and have some cups to ladle out portions for the adults trailing the kids who will start coming around soon. Heh - come and drink my Witch's Brew - you won't fly or turn into a newt, but it'll take the chill off. I may or may not have a bit of whisky or rum to add medicinal value to the drink.

I will make a special dinner for Samhain night. I don't have anything traditional - this year it's shepherd's pie, corn bread, and pumpkin spice cake with cinnamon spice buttercream icing. I try to make something that my ancestors or anyone I've lost in the previous year would like to eat. The first portion of each item is carefully plated and placed at the head of the table or on the altar. Wine will be served, and a chalice-full placed with the laden plate.

Later tonight, after we've eaten, handed out candy, taken the kids out for some socially sanctioned begging, we'll take the plate of food and the glass of wine down to the woods and leave the contents for our ancestors. We may or may not name them. We may or may not sing a song for them. We will honor them, wish them well, and remember. We will ask their blessing in the coming year. It will be short, but heartfelt - we don't need a lot of ritual, these days, just a few quiet minutes with our Gods.

It's an odd hodgepodge of a night - some modern traditions that were founded in the old, and some straight from the days (and nights) when our people could be openly themselves, could worship the gods of field and wood, or river and rock, without fear of censure or death.

Blessed be those who have gone before; blessed be those who live now; blessed be those who will follow after. The wheel turns once more, and blessed are we who turn with it. Blessed be.

This year I honor: Aunt D, who passed this spring; Rich Shafer, a friend and staunch supporter of the racing world; my grandfather, who passed many years ago but whom I still miss

You Can Dress Meme Up...

I have a house guest and am preparing for a major holiday, so once again I am leaning on a meme for a post. Whatever you're doing tomorrow, I hope it's happy, safe, and a good time for all involved!
~~~~~
The Halloween Meme

1. What is your favorite written work of horror fiction? Umm...I don't know about that, since I don't really read horror...but I am rather fond of Dean Koontz's Odd Thomas books, and many of his more recent works, as well - do those count?

2. What is your favorite work of science fiction/fantasy? Oh, wow...ask me my favorite oxygen molecule and you'll more likely get an answer. Umm...Heinlein is a favorite, and Mercedes Lackey, Flynn Connolly, Larry Niven, Starhawk, Piers Anthony, Neal Stephenson, Simon R. Green, Jim Butcher, Orson Scott Card, Anne McCaffrey...and I just know I'm forgetting some...

3. Who is your favorite monster? Hmm...I rather like Frankenstein's monster, because he was such a tragic creature. I also like the critters in the Species movies, because they're freakin' heinous! Or would those be aliens? I am also rather fond of Snortimer, the monster under the bed, too.

4. What is your favorite Horror movie? Would you believe I've never seen one? bits of them, yes, but they bore me to pieces, so I don't tend to watch them.

5. What horror movie gives you the most chills? Again, I don't watch them, really, and the little I've seen never frightened me at all...just made me wonder what people were thinking, writing things like that.

6. What character from any horror film would you most like to play? Hmm. Eve, from Species 2, even though I am fairly certain that's not really a horror movie.

7. Freddy or Jason? The only Fred I know is Captain Martini from the track, and the only Jason I know was a very nice young man I went to school with entirely too long ago, so, umm...both??*

8. What is your favorite Halloween treat? I miss caramel apples. And popcorn balls. These days, even candy corn is rather sad, unless you get Brach's (made with real honey!). I don't have a modern favourite.

9. Ghosts or goblins? Elves and fairies, thanks.

10. Friendly-faced jack-o'-lantern or scary one? I like both, as well as those fancy scenic ones you can do with the paper patterns. Last year and this, I am more drawn to more traditional faces, though.

11. What is your scariest encounter with the paranormal? Never had a scary one. Honestly, I grew up in a haunted house where the ghost wanted nothing to do with me. He haunted everyone else, but not me. It was so unfair!!

12. Do you believe in ghosts? Why or why not? Yep. Because too many people have had experiences that don't fit into any other rational explanation.

13. Would you rather be a zombie, alien, or psycho? Umm...Alien, if it's Eve from Species 2. Seriously - she's a hottie, smart, psychic, a hottie, fierce, and a hottie.

14. Favorite Halloween costume? You know...I remember having store-bought costumes when I was little...but otherwise am really drawing a blank. I suck at costumes. Really. These days I wear my own clothing and tell people I'm a witch...and like serial killers, we dress like everyone else.

15. Best thing about Halloween? Roasted pumpkin seeds. Oh, yeah, and family and friends hanging out, laughing, having a good time telling ghost stories and remembering our dear departed.

16. Person in your family who most likes Halloween (not counting yourself)? Hmm. I would think my son likes it, but he's only just getting into it. mum's fond of it, too. I dunno...

17. Are you superstitious? Yes. Yes I am.

18. Share an unusual Halloween story. Umm...I don't have one...

19. What did you do for Halloween as a kid? Went trick-or-treating, or sometimes to parties. Played Barn Door (a variant of hide and seek played at night with teams).

20. What's the best Halloween party that you've attended? I don't know that I've been to any as an adult...but as a kid, sometimes we'd go to one at The Stone House in Little Compton. It was fun...I remember costume contests, bobbing for apples, and pinatas...

So...how 'bout you??

*No, I'm not that stupid or socially retarded, I know what the question meant...I'm funnin' ya because I didn't want to be boring and say "I don't watch those movies..." again.

Family

I asked the Evil Genius to do some writing yesterday. He needs the practice - his printing looks like an axe-murderers scrawl. He resisted at first. He doesn't like doing workbooks, because once he's written in them...they're done. He like to write on "clear" paper. Not blank. Clear.

He decided he would draw a picture for his father.

First, he drew a picture of himself and T, holding hands. In one corner, he put "By Bird".

Then he wanted me to tell him what to draw on the other side. He likes to draw on both sides of the paper. I don't know why. Makes it hard to display all his art, but it does save paper. Hoping to get him to write a bit, I encouraged him to write "I love Daddy". He drew a small "i", a heart, and "DADE". Too much Wall-E, I guess. Then he wanted to draw a picture to go with it. He decided he would draw his family.

He drew each of us in our favorite colors.
First, of course, himself. Then his dad (complete with facial hair). Then M, his dad's erstwhile girlfriend. Then J, her son. Then me. Then Mum. Then Little Man. Then Noodle. Then J (our roommate, T's best friend). he wanted to draw Someone, too, but there wasn't room. I figured that was OK...I don't really think T cares to have a picture of Someone, anyway, not even an artist's rendering.

We are all holding hands, and these are the people he considers his family.

Sometimes, my son astonishes me to stillness...the way he thinks, the fact that he isn't bound by traditional definitions but instead sees the people he loves...all of them...as his family. He knows these people love him, even if some of us don't know each other very well...we're connected through him, and in his mind, that's enough.

Minutes and Hours

Someone will be here tonight. He's getting in late, and the Evil Genius and I are picking him up at the airport. The Evil Genius has never been to the airport. Alas, thanks to spoilsports of epic proportions, we won't be able to go watch planes take off and land or wait at the gate - the closest we'll get is baggage claim. Oh, well. He's excited at the prospect anyway. He's also in a tizzy, delighted that he's finally getting to meet Somebody. For several days now, he's told me he can't wait to meet Mr. __. Cute.

My face hurts, I've been grinning so much. Seriously, folks, I'm more excited than a kid at Yule.

The house is almost clean - I've only got Bird's bathroom to do, and the rest is as done as it's getting. I do need to clean out the van, though, unless I plan to cart Someone home on the roof. While he enjoys fresh air, I don't think he'll want it quite like that.

Meanwhile, this day is dragging...and will do until tonight. The minutes will stretch and stretch and drag their feet across time's carpet and refuse to hurry along no matter how I cajole them...and the hours will stampede through, trumpeting their passing as they go. Isn't it funny how that happens? Perception truly is everything.

Well...I guess I'll go do something, even if it's wrong...

What are you waiting for?

Wait, How Old Is He??

Yesterday evening, the Evil Genius and I met some friends at Mc D's for a healthy repast and a rousing game of whist.

Well - he did get apples and milk with his corn-and-soy covered chicken parts, so it wasn't entirely unhealthy. C'mon, leave me some illusions, please.

The boys had a blast, with one melt down that was adequately handled in two hours of play.

After I had calmed Bird down from that, just before he went back to playing, I asked him if he felt better. he said he did. He ate a processed chunk-o-chicken. I asked him if the nugget helped him feel better. He said yeah. I asked if it was a Zen nugget. He said no, actually, the nugget didn't help him feel better. "You help me feel better Mommy, when you talk to me like this, it helps my heart feel better." Aww!

Just before the Evil Genius and I left, he ran into another little boy, hitting the lad's head with his mouth. The other lad was fine after a moment, but for some reason Bird lost his little mind.

He cried and and was angry and didn't want to talk to me or even let me look at him. I finally got him headed out, and he stopped in the middle of the dining room, sat down to put on his shoes, and cried "All I want is a few minutes alone and you aren't letting me. You don't understand me. No one understands me!!"

I turned to my friend A and asked "How old is he again?" because I figured I wouldn't get that line until he was at least fourteen!

Good grief, they do start earlier and earlier, don't they?

Perfect Love, Perfect Trust

If you're pagan, especially one of the flavours of Wiccan, you hear this a lot: "In perfect love and perfect trust."

Several things have made "perfect love, perfect trust" run through my head lately.

My son...he brings to mind a mundane version of perfect love. He's a child and loves as a child does, without quantifying, without questioning, absolutely. All that matters to him is that he loves me and I love him, and that's just fine.

My ex-husband has not been very trusting. He wasn't while we were married, and he's still struggling with it now that we're not. I never gave him cause to distrust me, and had no idea the level to which the distrust went until we began the divorce and he was angry and saying things from a place of anger and uncertainty. He's trying very hard to let go of his distrust...and it's not easy. I am trying very hard not to take it personally and to be gentle with him in his process...and it's not easy.

I had a friend, some years back, whom I loved dearly. If not for him, I would not have met K, the sister of my heart, or any number of other folks who mean much to me and figure largely in my life...including the people I'm in the band with. We had a falling out. I had to take a stand on an issue, and he didn't like my position (neither did I, come to think of it, but it was necessary, if unpleasant)...so he chose to remove himself from my life. I still love him...but from a distance, because I must respect his feelings.

My friend Gypsy is a fairly recent addition to my life. She's beautiful, dynamic, and brilliant. I met Kit through Gypsy. Kit's another creative, bright, amazing woman. Gypsy and Kit have kids of varying ages, and between us we've got the whole range from infant to school-aged. I trust them with my child, would leave him with either of them (and have) without thought, without worry, absolutely certain that they'll look after him and do right by him.

I've asked many pagans to define perfect love and perfect trust for me. I usually wind up with an idealized definition, one that (to me) seems deeply flawed. In general, it seems, people actually think perfect love means perfect like, too - that the people with whom we share circle all get along and are nice and sweet and...er...gag... Perfect trust? Means no one makes mistakes and everyone behaves perfectly and...umm...barf...

Not that I think it's impossible to be perfect. But the few "perfect" people I've met in my life? Have been rotten at the core. They have a veneer of civility, or trustworthiness, that fools us all...until that one little slip.

I don't trust that kind of perfection.

Here's what I think (yep, I made you read through all that horse-puckey up there just for this - ain't I a stinker??): I love you for who you are and despite who you are. I love you with your flaws gloriously on display and your strengths there for me to wonder at. And I love you absolutely...even when I have to do it from a distance because that's the safest, healthiest place to be. I trust you to be yourself, utterly and honestly, without fear or shame or o'erweening pride. I trust you not to hide you fear and anger, your sorrow or hurt. I trust you not to hide your laughter and silliness, your whimsy and imagination. I trust you to be consistently who you are...even when that means you lie, cheat, and steal, because that's your nature. The person isn't the one who is perfect - the love, the trust are.

How about you? How do you define "perfect love and perfect trust"?

The Truth Will Out

Yep...now you know...

Bear With Meme

I'm working at the track this weekend, long days in the communications tower with a very nice woman who smokes like an industrial chimney, so my mind and body are being taxed. I don't have it in me to write anything interesting or original, so...it's time for another meme.
~~~~~

1. Is there anybody you just wish would fall off the planet? Wouldn't that be flying? Or does flying mean they'd come back down eventually? And how would someone fall off, any way? Doesn't there have to be an edge or promontory or something, to fall from? Or, if one person can fall off, wouldn't we all, because wouldn't that mean cessation of gravity? In which case we'd all have one heck of a ride...

2. How do you flush the toilet in public? I don't use the toilet in public - I'm not an exhibitionist. However, I flush a public toilet carefully, just as I would at home, by using the handle, lever, or button provided on the apparatus. Sometimes they flush themselves...it's spooky...how do they know I'm done? Sometimes they flush before I'm ready...disconcerting, that...because I almost always have a wet bum and the feeling that the potty is trying to hurry me along...which leads to a host of thoughts about inanimate objects being alive, and if they had Karma, what did the toilet do to deserve its job?

3. Do you wear your seatbelt in the car? Well, it matches my shoes so nicely...

4. Do you have a crush on someone? No. I find crushing people to be so messy. I love Someone, though...

5. Name one thing you worry about running out of. Time.

6. What famous person do you (or other people) think you resemble? I don't think I look like anyone famous, but someone once told me I look like that actress in that show about the legal firm...I don't think it was LA Law...it was popular a few years ago...she's a big woman...aww, Hell...never mind...I don't look like anyone famous.

7. What is your favourite pizza topping? Pizza.

8.Do you crack your knuckles? Well...it would be rude to crack someone else's...

9. What song do you hate the most? Anything sung by that horrid purple dinosaur.

10. Did just mentioning that song make it get stuck in your head? Nope.

11. What are your super powers? Mom's kiss - it can make anything all better.

12. Peppermint or spearmint? Wintergreen.

13. Where are your car keys? On a key ring. I'd tell you where that is, but then maybe you'd come to Casa de Crazy and steal my van...

14. Last song you listened to? Karma Slave.

15. What's your most annoying habit? I don't have just one, and many of them are annoying to one degree or another.

16. Where did you last go on vacation? Houston Texas...yeehaw, y'all.

17. What is your best physical feature? I'm bendy.

18. What CD is closest to you right now? The Ragbirds, Wanderlove.

19. What 3 things can always be found in your refrigerator? Pickles, some sort of cheese, and fruit.

20. What superstition do you believe/practice? Hello, I'm a witch...

21. What colour are your bed sheets? Blue.

22. Would you rather be a fish or a bird? Phoenix.

23. Last thing you broke? The side-view mirror on my van.

24. What are you having to eat tonight? I don't know...something healthy, I hope, especially if I really want to be rid of the remaining forty acres of my ass.

25. What colour shirt are you wearing? Blue.

26. If you could be doing anything else today, what would you rather be doing? Umm...well...nothing I feel like sharing publicly...

27. Do security cameras make you nervous? Nope.

28. If you wrote a book about your life, what would the title be? Yawn.

29. Last time you went to a cemetery? Hmm...I think last fall in Clarkesville...

30. Last concert you went to? I'm guessing this means attended and not performed...and I think that would be the Aerosmith/Cheap Trick concert a few years back...unless the Ragbirds counts, although I performed at that same event, so I'm not sure...

31. Favourite musician(s)/bands you've seen in concert? Sorry, can't name just one. Ragbirds, Kellianna, Sting, The Moody Blues, Bonnie Raitt...

32. Next concert you're planning to attend? No plans just now...unless performing counts, and then I am hoping there's one next spring...

33. Do you talk to yourself? Often. Sometimes it's the only somewhat adult conversation I have for days...

34. Have you ever adopted or purchased a pet? No. They adopt me.

35. Have you ever been present when an animal is being born? I'll go one better - I've reached inside the mum and pulled the baby out when it was stuck. Two words: texture fiesta.

Of Course, There's a Broom

How else am I supposed to get around Atlanta traffic? Not that I drive much in Atlanta traffic if I can help it. I try to avoid going that far south of Redneck Central, really...the world is just a better place when I'm not mucking through that mess.

I have a number of brooms here at Casa de Crazy. Several of them are of the practical sort, used to sweep floors and occasional cobwebs from the corners. I like sweeping...there's something Zen about it, and I prefer a broom to a vacuum or other power-driven apparatus.

I also have some brooms that look purely decorative, but they're working things, too. Just not in a mundane way.

Hey, I'm a Witch, whadaya expect??

There's the broom that hangs just inside the front door. That one's part of the house ward. It hangs by the door to help keep out bad things/people, and it doubles as the broom couples step over when I perform handfastings/marriages. I use it to "sweep" the circle clean, too.

Then there 's the broom that hangs outside the front door. It's the one the feral kitties were plying with/on earlier this year. It's smaller, and is meant to be a part of the whole house shui, adding to the general blessing of the place. I like doing house blessings, like feeling like I've made my home (or someone else's) secure in a spiritual sense as well as a physical sense. Well, you knew I was odd...

A few days ago, I hung this one up:

It's a blessing, too...for prosperity, health, and happiness in the coming Fall/Winter, the lean times. The broom itself it a bundle of twigs, scented with cinnamon oil, birch for growth and positive change, cinnamon for a warm house, a home.

The corn and wheat are symbols of abundance, of prosperity.

I know health, abundance, prosperity, and happiness don't just...happen...

I know I have to help them along by, you know, working at them...

But it doesn't hurt to have something to look at and remind me what I hope for, what I'm working toward...
Plus, I think it looks nice...

Tiger, Tiger

I was going to call this post "Petting a Wild Pussy", but images of scores of angry Google Pervs storming my gates and demanding satisfaction thundered through my head and I thought better of it.

The last of this years batch of feral kittens is still hanging about. Probably because I'm feeding her. Funny how that works.

She is grey with tabby stripes, and in a fit of originality, I have dubber her Tiger. I don't know where I come up with these names, either.

When she's eating, I can pick her up and hold her for a bit. She'll even purr and cuddle a little before she remembers she's supposed to be wild and demand to be put down so she can continue the important business of devouring whatever cat food was cheap at the market this week.

She hunts rodents and birds, I hunt bargains. She eats whatever we catch.

Yesterday morning, I set some oatmeal to cooking and thought I'd go outside for a moment, enjoy a little of the morning and take some photos of the broom I decorated for my door but can't hang on the door because the summer sun turned the space between the door and the storm door into a furnace (I don't have a screen door - I had a screen door but it was rather mangled in a tragic door-removal incident that I'm still too traumatized to talk about) and melted my hangy-thingie, so I hung the broom from the flag holder that has no flag, because obviously.

As an aside - I would dearly love to have a screen door and to replace my metal front door (Seriously, who puts a metal door on a house in the Southeastern US? On a wall that gets 27 hours of sun a day? And the sun is about six inches from the door the whole time? Someone who wants to watch callers burst into flames when they knock, is who) with a wooden door...and even better, a wooden Dutch door. Sigh.

Where was I?

Oh, right.

So anyway, today when I went outside, Tiger ran up to greet me as she usually does, by standing a few feet away and meowing, working up her nerve to get closer, then run past me up the stairs and around the empty bowl, telling me how wonderful I am until I feed her, shying away from my hand if I try to pet her before she'd had a bite or ten.

Yesterday, though, something was different.

Tiger let me pet her. Without picking her up first. And she came back for more. And she was purring!

Look (try to pretend that's not the biggest, most deformed hand you've ever seen in your life):



Yep. I have a way with pussies.

I was so enraptured by my little friend, I burned the oatmeal.

I ate it anyway.

Thoughtfetti

I was driving to the market a few days ago, enjoying a beautiful October day, when I began noticing things in the road. First there was a shoe. One lone sneaker, keeled over on its side, tongue hanging out, clearly roadkill. Then, another shoe, its mate, probably flung itself into traffic when the first one perished, unable to contemplate a life without the other. Then, a quarter mile later, came the pants. Blue jeans, twisted and tangled up in themselves. Then, a moment later, the flannel shirt. I never saw any underwear. I wonder what it means.
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I have come to the conclusion that I may never have a clean house. I may simply have to settle for cleaner or cleanish.
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Yesterday I made chicken stock from some leftover baked chicken. I love making stock,and soup. It's a homey thing, simple, satisfying...and it makes my house smell amazing.
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I have an opportunity to work this weekend, to get paid for doing something I love - control communications for a racing group. I hope I can do it - the money's nice, but being back at something I enjoy and am fairly good at, with friends I haven't seen/spoken to in more than a year...that's even better.
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We're postponing the yard sale - this weekend is supposed to be wet and chilly, and I would rather not risk catching a cold three days before Someone gets here. Postponing will also mean I have more time to compile more junk priceless treasures and can work at the track, so it's just as well.
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Of course, working at the track means I won't have the weekend to finish tidying up. I know I go on about cleaning - but it's not like I'm spending all day, every day at it - I clean for a bit, then write a little, then teach the Evil Genius a little, then clean some more, then cook, then play with the Evil Genius, then cruise the Blue Nowhere, then clean a bit more. For years, this house has been cluttered, dusty, and dirty because I haven't felt like cleaning it. My home really is a reflection of my internal state...and for the last few years, it's been a mess. I crave some order, a bit less dust and clutter, space to breathe and move.
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I'm thinking of hanging some of my art photography on the walls - there's a lot of blank space, and if I can't sell the stuff I may as well use it...right? Or is that just the height of vanity?

Rook, Line, and Sinker

Don't let the picture fool you - she's a demon kitty when she's not being so dang sweet.

Cute little furball...

Nice to know she's sleeping well...glad one of us is...