Happy New Year

May your toes stay warm and dry,
May you keep a sparkle in your eye.
May you have arms to give you a hug,
May your ale overflow in your mug.

Wishing you happiness, honor and health,
With loads of wonder, warmth and wealth.

Aftermath

The holidays are over for me. We celebrate Christmas on Christmas Eve.
My parents, my brother and sister-in-law, my two nieces, my
great-nephew (one and a half years old) my husband, my daughter and her
boyfriend and myself, eating the same food as every year, picking on
each other, remembering Christmases past and opening gifts.

I always feel sad on Christmas Day. The month long buildup to anticipated
perfection wears me out. I tried keep my expectations at a realistic
level this year and I believe that made a difference to my enjoyment of
the season. Now, I look forward to the peace of January and more free
time.

As I sit in my warm livingroom, with the rain spattering on the roof and windows, I reflect on how lucky I am. I thank God for all of the wonders in my life.

I am off to visit everyone and to respond to all of the wonderful comments on my last post.

My Peculiar Aristocratic Title is: Her Eminence the Very Viscountess Nessa the Corpulent of Yockenthwait Walden Get your Peculiar Aristocratic Title

This is my official title. Please use it when speaking to me. Libragirl pointed out the site where you can get your own.

Gingerbread Houses

Today turned out to be a good Christmas sort of day.

In the morning, my daughter, who is twenty, got up early and helped me do some cleaning.

At noon, my nineteen year niece came over. We went to the grocery store to buy all kinds of goodies; M&M’s, sprinkles, powdered sugar, cake decorations, sugar cubes, cherry licorice. We made gingerbread houses for the first time ever.

I actually supervised and assisted, making royal icing and giving pointers, cleaning up and keeping organized. More pictures of the girls’ houses are at Wings Unfolding. We bonded and reconnected; they have busy lives now that don’t involve me.

This is my logo.

Christmas Card Design 2006

I put a picture here. I can't see it now, Blogger is acting up again and it's after nine and I have to get up at four thirty and I'm getting really annoyed, so I'm going away from here for now and seeing what you wrote. If you can see it, well, bully, I say, just bully.

May the Words of the Season be with

You and Your Family through the Holidays and into the New Year,
with All of Our Love!

This is my Christmas card for this year. I make my cards each year, with varying success. If I ever find them in my files, I'll scan some of the ones from years gone by. This card was made on my computer using my cool new pen.

There are some pictures of a Santa I made for my mother several years ago. It was originally in white, but he didn't stand out enough for her livingroom, so he got changed into his red outfit.

And more Global Warming trees. Did you know that temperatures in New Jersey were five degrees warmer in 1971?

Me and My Money

Monday’s always remind me to manage my money (I’m an alliteration freak, because there is also Financial Fridays.) My money and I have always had a love/hate relationship. While never being without funds for long, I have run short due to my poor handling of my money.

In many ways, I am a spoiled little witch. I never lacked for any of the things money could buy. My parents, being WWII babies, made sure that their children would never lack the latest fashion, copious amounts of food, lots of coats and shoes and a trail of useless hobbies. We wanted, we got. The pile around our Christmas tree looked like my mother bought out the entire neighborhood stores. My mother is the Queen of Sales.

This is not to say I haven’t always worked hard. I began babysitting at ten. My first “real” job was when I was fifteen and I have worked steadily ever since. I just always did with my money what I felt like doing. I never budgeted. I never saved.

I have an incredibly lackadaisical feeling about money. I have been known to give my money away before paying my rent because I always knew there would be more coming in. I often ran out of gas because I spent my money on more fun stuff. Most times I just don’t want to think about money.

It isn’t that I don’t know what to do with money. Every job I’ve had involved bookkeeping and now I manage our company’s 401k, payroll and I am training and advising our current bookkeeper. I am good at math. I buy things on sale.

It wasn’t until I had my daughter that I began to take money more seriously, but old habits die hard. What follows are some of my behaviors related to money:

I balance our checkbook in my head.
I pay for everything in cash.
I have coin jars all over my house. Makes me feel safe.
I pick up every coin I see on the ground, even the pennies that are tails up and I thank God every time I find money.
I remember due dates for bills and pay them online at the last possible moment.
If I have to mail a bill, it will be late.
I live within my net pay amount, so I have my 401k and my savings automatically deducted and I never miss the money.
My current car was the only new car I ever owned and I will never have another car payment ever again. Ever!
I don’t haggle over restaurant bills.
I don’t loan money, but I will give it away.

What are some of your Mad Money Mannerisms?

No, You Are Weirder Than Me

The Swampwitch tagged me several days ago to do the “Six Weird Things About Me” meme.

Here are the Rules: Each player of this game lists six (6) weird things about themselves by creating a post on their blog. Pictures may be used for documentation. On the post, state these rules and then tag six (6) other people by listing their names on your post. Leave a comment at their place that says, "You have been tagged. Please go to my blog for further instructions."

I racked my brains for this one. Ask anyone who knows me and they will tell you I am not very weird. I like to play along, though, so here goes:

I always sit with a wall to my back. In restaurants, I make sure I am seated at the back of a table; in classrooms, I sit at the back of the room or at the very far side by a wall; I had my office at work setup so that no one could walk in to my back or side.

I like to own flashy, fun things, such as boas in bright pink or shiny beaded purses, red shoes, feathered fans, etc., but I would never wear them in public, unless it is Halloween or at a Renaissance Faire. At both of these events, I can go quite over the top. In everyday life, though, I dress very conservatively.

My most favorite song in the entire world ever is Amazing Graze played on bagpipes.

I usually read the Harry Potter books twice a year and the movies are often background noise for when I am doing something else or if I have a hard time falling asleep. Harry Potter relaxes me like nothing else; calms my mind; stops the chatter.

Mr. Gilbert lives in my house; I should say he exists in my house. Mr. Gilbert is a ghost. He died in the kitchen. He doesn’t bother us much. He seems to like what we’ve done to the place. He flashes a light occasionally around the spot where he was found in the kitchen. My husband says he just wants a beer.

I project astrally. When I’m asleep I take trips all over the world and out into the universe. I even saw Uranus once. I have done astral projection while I was meditating. It’s kind of like when Casper the Friendly Ghost flies around above the clouds and then comes down to hover over a new friend. People scream when they see me, too.

I never tag other people when I do these, but if you decide to do the meme, let me know, so I can see that you are weirder than me.

Sunday's Shameless Self-Promotion

The wise, talented and discerning Diesel at Mattress Police is having an incredibly erudite contest in which he wants his readers to recommend books for him to read over the next year. He has already gotten many very good suggestions to read books by published authors. I am suggesting he read a new author and get in on the ground floor of a future blockbuster.


Diesel should read my NaNoWroMo 2006 novel Happenstance. While I myself have not read it yet, I do know that it is short so it wouldn’t take up too much of his time.

I suggest you check out Diesel and see what his contest is about.

In other news around the nation (well ok, just my neck of the woods), Quilly has inspired me to get back into my health routine of walking everyday. Fine, the fact of the matter is that I am jealous and not a little competitive and she is a loser. I hope my other health buddy, Jenn is still walking but she is very busy making all of her Christmas prezzies.

And finally, I say global warming is a good thing when I still have roses blooming in December.

NaNoWriMo 2006 - Happenstance

I have posted my 2006 NaNoWriMo novel at Novelty - Happenstance.

Read at your own peril.

I have not read or edited it in any way, with the exception of using the spell checker on occasion. It is broken up into 20 posts.

For those who do not know, NaNoWriMo stands for National Novel Writing Month and it happens every November. People try to write a 50,000 word novel from the 1st until the 30th. The word count is the main goal, because finishing seems to be the most difficult novel writing hurtle. The only rule is you can’t write the same word 50,000 times.

I have told myself each year I would participate, but never got around to it. I’ve never finished several novels I’ve started either. This year, November 1st hit and I committed.

While you are not allowed to start writing your novel until the 1st, you may plan it. I didn’t. I had no idea what I was going to do; I just wanted to be able to say I finished a novel. Now, I can.

What have I learned from this?

I can physically write 1,000 words in an hour. If I learned to type, I bet I could write more.

If you give your characters titles and use them every time, you can increase your word count easily.

Do not use contractions.

Break up all compound words.

Include and describe all meals, dressing routines and throw in a potty break now and again.

If you turn your monitor on an angle, you can write at work.

Repeat the phrase, “I have to write,” to anyone who crosses your path.

Fifty Thousand Seven Hundred and Five, Damn It!

I am sipping a very large glass of merlot to ease the ache in my wrists.

Check back tomorrow to find out where I posted my masterpiece.

Oh, No, Mr. Bill!

I slacked off over the holiday weekend and now I am behind. I am having anxiety attacks. Give me drugs. I told too many people I was doing this stupid thing and now I'd rather die than not get to 50,000 words. Give me drugs. I will be back on December 1st if I survive. Give me drugs. Man back in they 70's people would throw drugs at you. What's up people?

Why do they refer to criminals as gentleman, as in, "A gentleman broke into a house and shot all eighteen people living in the house." Did the definition change and no one told me?

And I nearly pissed myself. Guess what? Pamela Anderson has filed for divorce from Kid Rock. I can't imagine why that didn't last, can you? Friggin' hillbillies.

Gobble, Gobble, Gobble

This is my attack turkey, Charlie. He and I would like to wish everyone a Happy Thanksgiving now because I know many of you will not be around tomorrow, you've got to do the family thing. I understand. Really I do. But listen, I am off on Friday, so I’ll be writing and playing and reading and just generally doing what I want to do, which does NOT include shopping. So, maybe I’ll see some of you then.

My list of things I am particularly thankful for this year:

My new house, with a dishwasher (the first I’ve ever had.)
Selling my old house and still getting my price despite the housing crash. Everyone who has stopped by here over the last year to read the things I have written. You have no idea how astounded this makes me. And most keep coming back. I am amazed. Thank you.
Those of you who have checked on me this month while I try to finish NaNoWriMo and all of your very encouraging words.
The fact that I am able to do the things I love.
And last but not least, I want to say a huge thank you that I still have all of my family with me and everyone is relatively happy and healthy.

Here is a Thanksgiving Day Limerick:

It is time for us to have us some turkey
Which I think is just barely better than jerky
I wish you a Happy Thanksgiving
At least we are all still living
I admit my love for limericks is quirky.

As far as the November Novel is concerned, I topped 35,000 words last night. I added a giant, a treasure and another 17,000 characters. I have also decided that since everyone has been so kind and curious, I will post my masterpiece on December 1st, 2006 as a blog so we can all have a good 'ole chuckle. Boy, isn’t that something to anticipate.

And this is how I feel right now:

PS. I did respond to all of you lovely people who commented on my last post.

Sex, Sex, Sex

So far I have written 20,255, which is 252 more words than the 20,003 I needed by the end of today to stay on track.

Here’s a little summary of The Great American Novel, which is called Happenstance:

Thirty named characters so far, with a minimum of six more needed. Of these, three are already dead, two quite horribly.

Four named towns. I only highlight this because usually names get me stuck. I can procrastinate for weeks over finding the one perfect name for someone or someplace. By the time I find it I’ve forgotten what I am writing.

I have a midget, a slave, gay guys, and gory deaths. But there are no naked scenes (the two naked dead guys don’t count.) I’m saving the graphic sex for when I need a good laugh.

I think I just now picked my hero, but I may switch him with the one I thought would be the hero two days ago. I can choose from a lot of men before I’m done. Choice is a good thing.

My heroine has to choose a hero too and she can’t decide either, just like I can’t decide if this is a romance, a murder mystery or a romantic kill fest.

My bad guy is so well hidden so far that even I don’t know who he is.

I’ve done a dream scene, a story within the story, my dialogue sucks and I’ve used one form of is/was in almost every sentence I’ve written. But other than that, I’d say things are going along swimmingly.

A New Kind of Wordless Wednesday

Why do people like to talk to me? All day long, where ever I am people seek me out to tell me things. They talk and talk and talk. They tell me about their kids, they talk about their co-workers, they complain about their bosses and they detail their daily activities. My days are one long interruption by people who think I want to listen to every thing they have to say. They don’t even know I’m never listening. I’m always thinking about something else mostly because their stories are so boring.

Is it because I have developed the art of fake listening? I know when to nod, when to grunt some sort of response and I look at them (although I’m actually looking behind them over their right shoulders.)

If I told people I had no interest in them and only wanted to spend my time doing my own thing and concentrating on my own amazing thoughts, do you think they’d get mad? I wonder if I’d care if they got mad.

Can we make Wordless Wednesday a day where no one says any words to me? I always wanted to be a hermit. I’m getting back to liking this idea.

Total words needed to stay on track: 13336
Total word count to date: 13497

And I’m already cranking after eight days; this aught to be a great month.

I Vote for Peace

I vote for peace. I vote for listening to the other person before I speak. I vote trying to see things from the other person's point of view. I vote for counting to ten before I react.

If you are interested in giving peace a chance, check out Path to Peace. It won't hurt to look, maybe comment, possiblly vote.

Since I believe all things begin at home and one person can make a difference, I will actively support peace today. I pledge the following:

I will not call anyone an asshole today, even the drivers who cut me off or drive up my butt as I drive to work today.

I will not snip at my husband. I will consciously remember that he is a good man and let him know.

I will hug my daughter and refrain from telling her what to do.

I will not make snarky comments at work, I will listen to the opinions of others and validate their points of view.

I can do these things, really I can, at least for one day. What can you do for peace?

Total words needed to stay on track: 10,002 Total word count so far: 10,177.

We Have Liftoff

Between loads of laundry and cleaning out my studio, I have been writing on my NaNoWriMo novel and I am happy to annouce that I am ahead of schedule. I have written 8,449 words. That's 114 words more than I needed to finish by the end of day 5. You must average 1,667 words a day to hit the 50,000 word winner mark at the end of day 30.

And I am leaving off at a place where I will be sure to continue on with lots more words. I'm not saying they are very good words, but according to the NaNo people it's quantity not quality. I can get behind that.

Thank you all for your words of encouragement. I will need them as the month progresses, so stick with me please.

I am now off to read everyone's blogs as a reward for my hard work.

See you all there.

Busy, Busy, Busy

I am announcing my participation in NaNoWriMo and that since I didn't write anything yesterday, I am already 1666.66666 words behind.

Happy Dance

I am doing the Happy Dance because I am the proud owner of ONLY ONE house. Yes, folks, you heard right, after seven months we have finally sold our old house. We can now breath again.

Give Peace A Chance

Like Quilly I am particularly blessed. The condition of the world makes me cry. I have been struggling for something to do about it without adding more confrontation into the mix. So, I simply ask that anyone who sees this join Mimi Lennox and Quilly and myself on November 7th, 2006 to say Grant Us Peace.

And as an added effort, I will spend the 24 hours from midnight to midnight on that day practicing peace. I will not call other drivers assholes. I will even refrain from pointing out the really stupid mistakes that my new co-worker makes every two seconds even though she says she the best thing since white bread. And if I happen to go into Wal-Mart, I will not make disgusted faces at the excruciatingly slow and lazy people that work there. I know, just call me Mahatma.

So come play with us on Tuesday, November 7th, 2006. Sounds like fun, doesn’t? Do it anyway, damit! (I didn’t say I’d be peaceful today.)

Me Me Me

I have been tagged by Swampwitch at Anecdotes, Antidotes and Anodes… Go look at her Avatar, which is great and read her witty posts, which are witty (I am the master of words.)

Here's the meme:

1. Explain what ended your last relationship. I said don’t do it. I was very clear. She didn’t listen and did it anyway. End of story and the relationship.

2. When was the last time you shaved? I shaved 10 minutes off of my morning routine by not shaving my pits.

3. What were you doing this morning at 8:00 a.m.? Finding another reason not to get up from my laptop and sort more bins.

4. What were you doing 15 minutes ago? Telling my husband to quit telling me to get up and sort more bins like I promised I would.

5. Are you good at math? Yes. I add to my bottomless pit of useless information daily. I am minus any common sense. I love to divide and conquer. And I multiply like a rabbit.

6. Tell about your prom night. I skipped it. I have been allergic to large parties since childhood.

7. Do you have any famous ancestors? On my father’s side, we are descended from the illegitimate child of a German Count and a milkmaid. On my mother’s side, we come from a confusion of cave dwellers rich in White Gold.

8. Have you had to take a loan out for school? No. I’ve always managed to get someone else’s to pay for my infinite knowledge.

9. Do you know the words to the song on your My Space profile? My daughter said I’m not allowed to trawl for young boys on MySpace.

10. What is the last thing you received in the mail? Bills. Lots and lots of duck bills and chicken lips and what looked surprisingly like Jimmy Durante’s nose.

11. How many beverages have you had today? Two. Water and milk.

12. Do you ever leave messages on people's answering machine? I like to leave long drawn out messages that go into great detail but only get to the point until the very end. Or I just hang up.

13. Who did you lose your Concert virginity to? Tom Waits Chain smoking and beer guzzling and a gravelly voice.

14. Do you draw your name in the sand at the beach? No, I don’t own the beach, silly.

15. What's the most painful dental procedure you've had? Cavities filled by Army dentists as a child because they didn’t use Novocain.

16. What is out your back door? Sand, leaves, squirrels, oh and the bar.

17. What are your plans for Friday night? This Friday has already passed. I went to bed at nine. I know how to party.

18. Do you like what the ocean does to your hair? While I’m there. Afterwards, it’s just itchy.

19. Have you ever received one of the big tins of 3 different kinds of popcorn? Yes, but I only liked the caramel flavor corn. I use the tin to store all of my buttons. I have a lot of buttons.

20. Have you ever been to a planetarium? Yes, the one on Venus. It has a really cool view of the Earth.

21. Do you re-use towels after you shower? We use paper towels, so it is a bit difficult.

22. Name some things you are excited about. Our closing on our old house looks like it will actually happen this time on Monday. NaNoWriMo starts Wednesday and I’m taking PTB’s advice and just starting. I’m getting a new step stool as we speak.

23. What is your favorite flavor of Jell-O? Blue.

24. Describe your keychain. It has butterflies all over it. See?

25. Where do you keep your change? Somewhere in the back of my mind.

26. When was the last time you spoke in front of a large group? Define large.

27. What kind of winter coat do you own? Another point of contention between my mother and myself. She believes a person should have many coats. I, on the other hand, have one coat that is light and an electric blue color. It’s mostly for blocking the wind. Under it I add layers to achieve the perfect body temperature.

28. What was the weather like on your graduation day? Both were sunny and bright, forecasting my illustrious future.

29. Do you sleep with the door open or closed? I start with it open, to keep the air flowing freely (I may be slightly claustrophobic) but must get up during the night to reopen it as my husband prefers it closed. I should divorce him, the rotten rat.

30. When was the last time you lied? Five minutes ago when I answered question 21.

And I tag anyone who wants to do this list or anyone who is fresh out of fresh ideas.

Haiku To You, Too

Mr. Fab at Pointless Drival is having a haiku contest. These are my entries. The subject matter is part of the contest rules. Go submit your own.

Lemurs

Madagascar home
Black, white, moonlit shining eyes
Spirits of the night.

Nethers

Early winter winds
Travel up both trouser legs
Shriveled private parts

Calvin Coolidge

Independence Day
“…I find it mighty handy.”
Promoting from death.

Pupa to Monarch has been updated.

And NaNoWriMo starts next Wednesday. I wonder if I’ll even be able to start, let alone finish?

You Suck

I am pretty sure I’m a vampire.

I was watching a show on Discovery last night about vampires. Well, I actually watched one on Discovery and then one on Biography and I really wasn’t watching too carefully, mostly just glancing during the times when Blogger toyed with my affections during the night.

Look at those hideously long and sharp eye teeth. They are perfect for piercing flesh. I bet they’d leave that tell tale mark on someone’s neck. And see that chip in the right, front tooth? I got that when I tried to have a vampiric moment with a swinging padlock.

Do I bite the dog or my husband?

While trying to answer the previous question, I started gnawing on my index finger’s cuticle. I ripped it off and it began to bleed. I sucked on my finger until I bled no more. I rather enjoyed the sensation.

Sunlight bothers my eyes. I even wear my sunglasses on cloudy days. I hum “Sunglasses at Night” when I am out cruising the bars looking for victims.

I wear black all of the time and I think capes are cool. If I had any fashion balls, I would attempt to bring long, flowing, red satin-lined cloaks back into common use. But I’m sensitive and cry easily, so I prefer not to have anyone point and laugh at me.

I like to sleep all day and stay up all night. At three in the afternoon, I’m ready for a nap and sometimes I don’t even go to bed until twenty-one hundred hours.

I think Don Henrie is hot, not. He’s just a walking freak show.

And I’m blonde. Oh, sorry, that doesn’t make me a vampire. Never mind.

These Tears I Cry For You

While you may have tried to erase yourself from this space, you can not remove the piece of yourself you have left in my heart, my mind and my soul. May God speed you on your next journey.

Choo Choo

Relatives from Germany visited us over the past three weeks. They flew home yesterday. On Monday, we took them to NYC. None of us have taken public transportation before. We hopped the light rail to Trenton, where we picked up the train to Penn Station. If you are in New York just for the day and want to see as much as possible, the double-decker tour buses are a good way to see it all. We did the downtown loop. You can go around as many times as you want and get on and off as often as you want. I plan on going back to see the different neighborhoods.

I took a few pictures but mostly I enjoyed seeing the great architecture, the Naked Cowboy, a street dance troop, people from all over the world, the lights at night and the possibilities.

The only problem was the bathrooms. There are very few public ones and most are disgustingly filthy.

You should know that the tour buses stop at seven and they are very crowded at the end of the day. We stood for an hour on the last bus. They don’t drop you off where you get on, either. We walked fifteen blocks at the end of the day back to Penn Station. We caught a commuter train out of the city. We had to stand here, too. When we caught the last light rail (I didn’t know there was a last one) we found out that not only was it the very last one of the night (lucky us) but it stopped four towns short of our destination (not lucky us.)

What were we going to do, you ask? My brother wanted to call my seventy-five year old father to come out at ten thirty at night to pick us up. No, said I, we’ll take a bus. Just as we got off the light rail a bus trundled up the deserted street. I jumped into its path and flagged it down. It happened to be twenty-five minutes late on its route. Getting on with us was a woman who showed every sign of being bipolar. Her foot was in a cast and she was on crutches. She entertained us with the story of how she was hit by a car and the driver got out and punched in the face as she lay on the ground. Fun stuff.

Help Me!

I posted my Wordless Wednesday at Wings Unfolding.

Now after looking, please come back here and tell me what kind of camera I should get that will help me make better pictures. I shake, I like to do close ups and I am a lousy photographer. So, what should I get? (And, "someone else to take the pictures," would not be a funny comment.)

Confrontation

I don’t like confrontation. I will go to great lengths to avoid it. I will do my best to work things out or walk away. I avoid great passionate debates where people call each other names or have too much of themselves invested in the discussion. I don’t discuss politics, religion or sex with anyone who can’t stay calm. I think most problems can be worked out if all parties are willing. I am all about solutions of a compromising nature. But if you get in my face, I will kick your ass.

I have gone toe to toe with huge, drug crazed men and I have looked down the barrel of a hand gun carried by a mama who thought I was after her skanky man. I have gotten in the middle of domestic fista cuffs in parking lots late at night out side of bars and I have blocked a drunken nut from bangin’ on another soused individual who were fighting over a toothless nag. I have screamed down the throats of bitchy soccer moms and broken the nose of a boy who jumped on my back when I was sixteen.

So, if you are not interested in tea and scones, leave me alone.

Marriage

Today is my fifth wedding anniversary. My husband and I had been together for five years before we got married. Actually, he moved in with me a month after we began dating (children do not follow my example, not because it didn’t work out but because I had a teeny tiny bit of previous relational experience on which to base my decision.)

I married late, at the age of forty-three, my husband was forty-one. Neither of us had been married before, although neither of us were ever alone much. We got married because we felt committed to each other and we felt that commitment was eternal.

Yes, we loved each other; we still do. Yes, we lusted after each other; we still do. But in our opinions, these were not sufficient reasons to get married. They were reasons to live together, which we did.

I think people get married too quickly and for the wrong reasons. I don’t believe in divorce. Now, before all you divorced people or friends of divorced people jump down my throat, let me say I do not advocate people staying in abusive relationships. What I’m suggesting is that people should make the decision to marry in a more business like manner.

A good marriage requires that the couple have core beliefs in common. It requires a common outlook on the things the couple find most important to themselves. As Robin Williams character in Good Will Hunting says, “You're not perfect sport, and let me save you the suspense, this girl you've met she's not perfect either. But the question is whether or not you're perfect for each other.”

This is why good marriages look different on the surface. Two people can appear to be so different. My husband is an active, outdoorsy sort of guy. He likes golf, guns, fishing, trucks, beer, “The Guys,” boobs,
and straight talk. He has lived in this area all his life. He knows everyone. He has few thoughts about God. He has a high school degree. I like reading, writing, gin (I never drink beer), have few friends, moved around a lot, am reclusive, have a deep belief and knowledge of God and have several degrees. So, on the surface, we shouldn’t be right for eachother. But our core beliefs are the same.
We believe in eachother’s right to be who we are, marriage is forever, money is a mutual commodity, work for what you want, cash is good and credit is evil, family is a top priority, commitments are to be honored and not entered into lightly, our right to speak our minds regardless of how we disagree, and the fact that we are separate people who chose to be together knowing full well we’d survive alone (the other person is not our validation.)

In other words, we get along. We are friends with benefits, as my daughter would say.

My husband and I disagree about many things. He believes in the death penalty. I don’t. I believe in God, he’s not too sure. He thinks children should be seen and not heard, I think children are people, too. He is happiest when he has lots of people around him, I prefer quiet. You get the idea. We can talk and argue about these things, but for us they are not deal breakers. What would be for us? If he tried to force me to hang out with his friends or if I followed him to where he was hanging out with his friends, we’d never be together, because trust is fundamental for us. If he didn’t go to key family functions or if I forced him to go to my work Christmas parties, we’d have split years ago, because you must know what is truly important to the other person.

So anyway, we’re not perfect and I know many people who would not like to live the way we do, but we’re not married to them. I just suggest that the rose colored glasses are taken off before you decide to marry. Think about what is most important to you and take a realistic look at the person to whom you are thinking of committing yourself. Do you like this person? Do you think you can stick by this person if they quit their job? Can you talk to eachother about tough subjects? Can you conceive of forgiving this person if he disappoints you? Can you conceive of him disappointing you (because he will)? Do you think you can deal with it? Do you think there will be room for you each to change (because you will)? Love and lust will not sustain you during the hard times, only your commitment to each other as people will.

COWARDS!!!

A man in his early thirties went into an Amish schoolhouse in Pennsylvania. He tied up the ankles of ten little girls and shot them execution style. Five girls dead, five girls injured. A grown man shot ten defenseless little girls.

People have been trying to find an explanation for this behavior. They have been looking for a reason why this “wonderful soccer dad of three boys” would do such a horrific thing. His co-workers said he was angry over the past two weeks. Now, the media has said he did this because he molested some of his own young family members twenty years ago and was afraid he’d do it again.

Plain and simple, this man was a coward. He had that in common with the other school shooters, the shooters committing the over 300 murders in Philadelphia so far this year, gangs, terrorists, Mark Foley and anyone else who takes their bullshit out on innocent people. They are all cowards.

I am sick and tired of the excuses. “I’m an alcoholic, I was abused by my pastor, my mommy taught me to suck her nipples, the football players picked on me, that guy looked at me cross-eyed, he had on the wrong colors…” This behavior is selfish. Someone forgot to tell these people that their feelings are not justification for bad acts. At some point, you need to grow up, take responsibility for yourself and quit whining about how bad you’ve been treated. Bite the bullet and get help if you are fucked up, instead of shooting the bullets at someone else.

One Amish man put it quite well when speaking about Charles Roberts, who ripped apart the little girls who didn’t stand a chance against him, when he said of Roberts, “He couldn’t cope with his own life.” Yeah. Why can’t these people just kill themselves without taking innocent people first?

Happy Birthday To Me

1. My daughter
2. My husband
3. My dog
4. My health
5. My parents
6. My brother
7. My nieces
8. My great nephew
9. My new house
10. My first house

11. 70 degrees, sunny and cool
12. Pumpkins
13. Halloween
14. Yellow mums
15. Butterflies
16. Bon fires
17. Breezes
18. Big, leafy, green trees
19. Green grass
20. Squishy sand between my toes

21. Reading
22. Writing
23. Drawing
24. Quilting
25. Crocheting
26. Archery
27. Boating
28. Beading
29. Blogging
30. Herbs

31. Wine
32. Homemade salsa
33. Vanilla ice cream
34. My mother’s spaghetti
35. Bombay sapphire gin
36. NY Strip steak
37. Alaskan king crab
38. Succotash
39. Baked potatoes with sour cream
40. Scallops

41. Novels
42. Purses
43. Hair jewelry
44. Renaissance faire costumes
45. Children’s picture books
46. Easter eggs
47. Christmas ornaments
48. Quilts

5T or Thursday's Too Tired To Type

I did not write this. I received this as an e-mail.

Subject: My Email Education (We've all received most of them)

I must send my thanks to whoever sent me the one about rat crap in the glue on envelopes because I now have to use a wet towel with every envelope that needs sealing.

Also, now I have to scrub the top of every can I open for the same reason.

I no longer have any savings because I gave it to a sick girl (Penny Brown) who is about to die in the hospital for the 1,387,258th time.

I no longer have any money at all, but that will change once I receive the $15,000 that Bill Gates/Microsoft and AOL are sending me for participating in the special e-mail program.

I no longer worry about my soul because I have 363,214 angels looking out for me, and St. Theresa's novena has granted my every wish.

I no longer eat KFC because their chickens are actually horrible mutant freaks with no eyes or feathers. I can't enjoy a good Latte from Starbucks anymore because they WOULD NOT send any coffee to that poor Army Sgt. who requested it.

I no longer use cancer-causing deodorants even though I smell like a water buffalo on a hot day.

Thanks to you, I have learned that my prayers only get answered if I forward an email to seven of my friends and make a wish within five minutes.

Because of your concern I no longer drink Coca Cola because it can remove toilet stains.

I no longer can buy gasoline without taking a man along to watch the car so a serial killer won't crawl in my back seat when I'm pumping gas.

I no longer drink Pepsi or Dr. Pepper since the people who make these products are atheists who refuse to put "Under God" on their cans.

I no longer use Saran wrap in the microwave because it causes cancer.

And thanks for letting me know I can't boil a cup water in the Microwave anymore because it will blow up in my face ... disfiguring me for life.

I no longer go to shopping malls because someone will drug me with a perfume sample and rob me.

I no longer shop at Target since they are French and don't support our American troops or the Salvation Army.

I no longer answer the phone because someone will ask me to dial a number for which I will get a phone bill with calls to Jamaica , Uganda , Singapore and Uzbekistan .

I no longer worry about sudden cardiac arrest, since I can now cough myself back to life instead of wasting time calling 911.

I no longer have any sneakers -- but that will change once I receive my free replacement pair from Nike.

I no longer buy expensive cookies from Neiman Marcus since I now have their recipe.

Thanks to you, I can't use anyone's toilet but mine because a big Brown African spider is lurking under the seat to cause me instant death when it bites my butt.

Thank you too for all the endless advice Andy Rooney has given us. I can live a better life now because he's told us how to fix everything.

And thanks to your great advice, I can't ever pick up $5.00 dropped in the parking lot because it probably was placed there by a sex molester waiting underneath my car to grab my leg.

If you don't send this e-mail to at least 144,000 people in the next 70 minutes, a large dove with diarrhea will land on your head at 5:00 PM this afternoon and the fleas from 12 camels will infest your back, causing you to grow a hairy hump. I know this will occur because it actually happened to a friend of my next door neighbor's ex-mother-in-law's second husband's cousin's beautician, who is a lawyer.

Have a wonderful day, and you are welcome!

You Didn't Ask

1. I must have the air around me moving. I can take some heat as long as there is a breeze. Still air makes me feel like I am suffocating. I actually really love strong winds. They make me feel alive.

2. Everyday, before I go home from work, I stop in a parking lot that has a large tree next to a curb. I park under the tree so I’m in the shade and then I read for a half hour.

3. I love trees; the look of them and the feel of them. I am lousy at remembering names, so I can’t name any trees and I don’t want to study them. I just feel for them. They fascinate me.

4. I have learned how to play the violin, guitar, piano, recorder and autoharp. I am not proficient at any of them and I am not musically inclined. I can read music, too.

5. I am dyslexic and a very bad speller. I play all kinds of games with my brain to get things right. Dictionaries and spell checkers are tools I would not want to do without.

6. I am bad at remembering the specific names of things. I can discourse at length on an idea but don’t ask me to name it. In item number 4 above, I had to do an extensive internet search to find the name “autoharp.” This has an effect on spontaneous writing.

7. I have two piercings in my left ear and one in my right. My first two matching piercings I got when sleeping over at a friend’s house when I was fourteen. She took me to a jeweler. My pierced ears were a gift. She gave them to me because she thought my mother would have a fit. My mother didn’t. I did the second piercing in my left ear in college. I was drinking with friends. I got a sewing needle and an ice cube and did the deed. I was twenty. This piercing upset my mother.

8. At one time in my life, I went to the drag racing track every Sunday. I lived with a man who fabricated vintage Corvettes for racing. I learned how to rebuild carburetors and change exhaust systems.

9. I can go into a hypnotic state very easily, but I don’t take well to hypnotic suggestions. Both of these are protective techniques I learned very young. But it sucks when I want to change bad habits.

10. When I go up very high somewhere, I have a very strong urge to step off into space. I am always glad there are fences, glass, and railings, because I really want to just see if I can float.

Fond Memories

I went to summer camp one time and one time only. I didn’t enjoy it. I didn’t connect with anyone. I remember that one summer as a series of embarrassing incidents. Here is just one and it goes to show you how deeply scarred I became by the dumbest experiences in the whole wide world.

I went to a sleepover camp in the Pine Barrens of New Jersey when I was eleven years old. The camp experience lasted two weeks. We had cabins that had beds for six girls or six boys and we stayed there most of the time.

In the middle of the two week stay, there was a camp out where we hiked into the woods and slept under the stars for one night.

When we arrived at the site, we picked our spots and set up camp. At one point, one of the male counselors shouted for all of the boys to gather round; they were going off on a little side trip.

“Can I go, too?” I called out enthusiastically.

“We are going to take a shit,” one of the boys shouted above the laughter.

Squeaky Clean

This is the beautiful handmade soap I received from Serra.

I bought nine bars of the Lavender Soap to give as gifts but I don’t know if I can give them up. They smell wonderful. I am sniffing them like a drug addict.

They are soft and velvety and glorious and I love the lava-like surface of them.

You should go to her site and see all of the different flavors she makes and treat your self. Get some for the up coming holidays to give to those you love.

My photos don't do them justice (sorry, Serra.) From top to bottom they are: Pure Lavender, Cherry Sandalwood, Green Tea, and Sweatgrass Cedarwood and Sage.
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A Birth Day Story

I told everyone when I would be giving birth; not the exact day, but the week. I said I would deliver two and a half weeks before the doctor’s due date. No one believed me. No one ever does.

Living with my daughter’s father did not work out. Seven months pregnant, I packed my car and drove from Niagara Falls, Canadian side, back to New Jersey. I left him a note.

I moved in with my parents.

My mother threw her back out. She lay in her bed upstairs, receiving visitors several times a day for a couple of days. I carried coffee and desserts up to them, dirty dishes down to the kitchen. At one point, I thought I couldn’t control my bladder; I leak-peed myself more than once.

A week later, on Thursday night, I began having pains in my lower back. This went on for ten hours until finally at six in the morning on Friday, I woke my parents up. They said I was in labor. We called the doctor. He told us to get to the hospital.

I signed into maternity. The doctor didn’t arrive until nine. They couldn’t tell if I really was in labor. Around noon, they decided I wasn’t in labor but I was two and a half weeks away from my due date, so they were trying to decide if they should induce labor since I was already there.

In the mean time, my mother, two aunts (not really related but you know how that goes) and my sister-in-law were there to enjoy the show. I wanted an epidural, which I got after whining pathetically.

The doctor decided to induce, so along with the pain medication I got whatever you get to produce labor pangs. It was now four pm Friday September 12, 1986. The doctor left to go to his lounge because Dance Fever was on. Before the show was over, my daughter popped out practically flying across the room into my sister-in-law’s arms.

The doctor showed at five pm to make the official birth pronouncement, note that my daughter was jaundiced, tell me I had a bladder infection because my water had broken a week ago and he had my daughter whisked to incubation. He told the nurses to get me cleaned up, I’d be going home that night.

I piped right up to say I was not leaving the hospital without my daughter. They conferenced and agreed easily.

My visitors told me how much they hated me because I looked so good; I beamed.

On Sunday, while I slept in the hospital to lovely peace and quiet, my mother hosted my baby shower. She did not listen when I told her I’d be giving birth two and a half weeks early.

A Birthday Quickie

Happy Birthday, PTB.

I know it is almost 8pm est, but Part Time Budda would like 30 comments for his birthday. Please go leave him one on his
blog.

Grand Slam

So, I took a break to recharge and regroup. I literally did the absolutely minimum to maintain life. I warned everyone ahead of time (in real time that is) that I was only going to do what I wanted. Mostly what I wanted to do was sleep and exercise the TV shooter. To my utter surprise, the world kept turning without me. I’m a little upset that everyone was able to function without my help, but there you have it. The following is what I got out of six days of brain-deaded-ness.

I watched Good Will Hunting for the first time. I watched infomercials, trashy talk shows and preachers. I am now armed with what I need to go back out into the world.

I did decide that I am no longer going to multi-task. I can do maybe 17,000 things at one time but that’s not good. So, I will only do one thing at a time and be in the moment (just call me Guru Nessa.)

I decided TV is crap and I will turn it off more often. This will be a challenge as the TV has been my friend, mentor and babysitter since I was about nine. I discovered over the last six days that rays are shot out of the tube and the rays turn my brain to mush and take away my will power. Since I don’t consider tinfoil hats a cool fashion statement, I must leave the TV off.

I am increasing my walking to a minimum of 45 minutes a day. Cesar says it is the minimum for dogs and their pets. Cody has taken me on a new path and we are set with that.

Then I also decided I that while I have never been much of a fashion plate, girly girly type, I could pick a more attractive style and take more care of myself. Normally, I would just pull my hair back in a ponytail and go, even with my hair wet. I look much better when I dry my hair straight. I will do my nails, just with clear polish, but it will make me feel more like a person; nothing fancy, just more care, that kind of thing.

I already have a schedule that I made up. I just need to follow it, instead of reading everyone’s wonderful blogs every waking moment of the day. This will be very hard, but I need to accomplish some things. Along with this plan, I will do more writing by hand. I will keep a pad next to my bed and when I start to obsess over something I will write it down. That way if it really is important I don’t have to worry that I will forget it.

So, I got up yesterday, my plan in mind and began reintroducing myself to the land of the living. Although checking the internet in the morning isn’t in the morning plan, I knew I had to let all of you lovelies know I was alive. After that it was walking time. I put on the sneaks (and other walking clothes) got a plastic bag, put my cell phone in my pocket, which I don’t usually do, and off we went.

Half way threw our walk, I got a call from my 20 year old daughter (MD.) On her way to work she had a car accident. She’s ok, thank God. But talk about going from stagnant to adrenaline rush.

She bought a brand new 2006 Chevy Malibu one week ago. I worried all last week about her driving in the rain, but there was no problem. This morning, she was driving along and a car to her right moved into her lane and hit her. She called me first. I had her call the police. We are in New Jersey. The people who hit her are from Massachusetts. They claimed to have insurance but they did not have an insurance card, so we won’t know for a week if they really do have insurance. The police gave the other driver a ticket.

MD’s car didn’t look too bad. A few scratches on the passenger side front fender and the driver’s side front tire hub cap. After being done with the police I told her to go to work. She got in the car, started to go and it made a bad sound. So she called me again and I had her call the roadside assistance company. They sent a tow truck. The car is back with the dealer in the shop. MD is still on our insurance. So I made a million calls to the insurance company, the shop and the car rental place. She has no car because the rental company does not allow anyone under 21 drive their cars. And my car is a five speed, which she never learned to drive and her father’s car is a big truck. I’m tooling around in a Cadillac (they didn’t have any midsize cars.) Ain’t life grand?

Hi

I had a week off; seven days in a row. Once they arrived, I decided to wallow in doing absolutely nothing.

I have a huge capacity to waste time and be very lazy. I slept late. I took naps. I surfed TV channels. I did not read. I did not write. I did not go anywhere. I stayed off of my computer. I did only the bare minimum to survive.

So, now the question for me remains: was this mental break beneficial? We'll see. I needed to feel like I have control over my time. Since my days are usually so full of doing things I have to do, I decided to do only what I felt like doing, which was nothing.

I go back to work this morning. I am looking forward to it, in that it will get me back into a routine. I get more done when I go to work. When I have a seemly unlimited expanse of time in front of me, it slips past within a blink of an eye.

I apologize for worrying anyone.

Plumage

I walk every morning. As I bow, everyone applaud. Thank you very much. (I hurt my shoulder patting myself on the back.)

Since I take the same route each day, I look around to keep myself occupied because exercise just doesn’t thrill me and make me all gooey like it does other people. I do it for my health. I do it for my sanity. I do it to keep the oxygen flowing to the little gray cells.

I noticed lately that there are an abundance of gray pigeon feathers on the ground. They are on both sides of the street, on the sidewalks, in the grass and stuck in bushes. This is not normal.

I picked one up to examine it more closely and heard my mother’s voice tell me not to play with the dirty, disease ridden thing. Being the brat that I have always been, I stroked it from point to tip then wiped my face. I have not died, mom.

The feather reminded me of a morning winter sky, bluish gray but soft and tranquil, promising a downy drift of snow. The shaft supported barbs that fit together so perfectly that the vanes felt like cashmere. I held the small wonder in my left hand as I thought about the possible meanings of this plethora of pinions.

Then Cody interrupted my reverie by taking a dump. Being the good neighbor that I am, I scooped the poop into a plastic grocery bag (I reuse and recycle, more applause, please.) After concentrating on not getting any stuff on me, I realized I totally mangled the plume. I threw it to the ground in disgust.

Feathers mean flight, freedom and fancy, maybe not to the birds that lost them, but to me that’s what they mean. In American Indian lore and dream interpretation, feathers mean prosperity and success. An era of lightheartedness, ease and comfort fast approaches.

Boom, Not.

I heard the world ended yesterday.

Imagine my astonishment when I woke up this morning and found we were all still here. And I was so counting on not having to deal with things.

I think it's time for everyone to stop predicting the end of our existance. Nothing is going to happen while we are looking for it. I don't care what your religion is, it just ain't gonna happen because you say it will.

It is time to start playing nice together and sharing our toys.

Yuck Alert!

I am depressed. I have been depressed for about a week and a half. I am depressed because of the reasons that I am depressed because I shouldn’t be depressed. I feel like crying.

I am such a control freak that when things don’t go the way I want them to go, I can’t deal with life.

Let me tell you how pathetic I am:

I have two houses. I don’t want two houses. I keep trying to sell one. But of course the market slows down right now. I gave an opportunity to a young person who swore they really wanted to buy a house and then she proceeded to screw up the process, not once, not twice, but three times and now she refuses to sign the release for the escrow she put down. So I’m out two months worth of payments for a house no one is living in.

I have a job that pays me lots of money, but I hate it. It is making my brain hurt, I am so bored. Do I even have a right to bitch because I’m bored? What kind of person does that? Why don’t I change jobs, you ask? Because I’m paying for two damn houses.

I am so tired of the emotional rollercoaster I have been on since March. I am exhausted.

I do know how lucky I am, which is why I hate feeling this way. But I want to move on in some sort of orderly way, damn it. (Can you see me on the floor throwing a temper tantrum?)

Blue Moon

For those of you who have given up hope (it has been over a month and a half, so I don’t blame you) Andy from Sublimely Mundane IS BACK and with a good one. For those of you who haven’t read his stuff, go check him out, he’s witty. And Andy, don’t let us dispair by writing only once every blue moon.

Sleepless in Somnia, USA

A very nice man, The Grunt, has insomnia. I’m sure he is cringing right now because I called him nice, you know how men are. I happen to think nice people are cool. Not fake nice people. You know the ones I’m talking about. The ones that smile and say excuse me as they run you over with their shopping carts. Or the ones that ask you how you are but never wait for an answer. I digress, as usual. Moving on.

The Grunt is also funny, edgy and odd. I think he has insomnia because funny people have a keen sense of the absurd and are really good at spotting the idiocies of the human condition. Plus, edgy and nice often clash with each other. I bet he has a red devil on one shoulder and a white angel on the other and he gets cauliflower ears from them duking it out around his head.

I’m here to offer my hard earned kernels of wisdom. I can’t get to sleep many times, too and I also wake up a lot at two in the morning. I usually have insomnia because I forgot to put away the dishes or take out the recycling or I’m still annoyed at the person who walked in the street instead of using the perfectly good side walk the township provided: never anything as exciting as wondering about the motivations of the idiot who doused five kittens in cooking oil and placed them, live, in a fry pan.

I have developed a long list of techniques and strategies since the age of ten, when I first presented with my sleep disorders (that’s medical terminology.) This list does not include sleeping pills because I can’t take them. Whether over the counter or prescribed, I am afraid of sleeping pills. They make me nuts, but that’s just me (that’s not medical terminology.)

All of the following have worked for me in the past and they continue to work sporadically. I have found my sleep problems to be like disciplining children; what works this time may not work again or during the same circumstances. Also, remember that these are suggestions only and they are not meant to diagnose or cure. Please see your family doctor if symptoms persist as they may be signs of serious mental illness.

Stop the excessive use of caffeine (like ten cups of coffee a day is too much) and never have any form of caffeine after twelve noon. While I find it interesting that in Austria they give caffeine to psychotics to help them sleep, it doesn’t work for me. Look for caffeine in pain medicines and watch the consumption of chocolate, and non-cola beverages. I understand some personal lubricants may contain caffeine, too.

Alcohol is an evil bane on our world. You don’t need more than five beers and/or two shots to get to sleep. More than this will only cause you to wake during the night to pee.

Counting is a very useful tool. Not counting sheep, just counting. Start at one and continue to count until you find your mind wandering then start over again. It is an excellent way to whip that unruly beast into shape. I count all of the time to distract myself from the things I know I should be doing. If your conscience can’t intrude, then you’ll have nothing to worry about.

Often, insomnia is due to a chemical imbalance. The key chemicals that cause insomnia are a lack of calcium, potassium and tryptophan. These naturally occurring chemicals affect the pleasure center of the brain, the same area affected by anti-depressants. They increase your serotonin and melatonin levels. Big Brother took tyrptophan off of the market some years ago because a measly few people died from it, but tyrptophan was the best thing to help you get to sleep. All of these chemicals are contained in carbohydrates, the sedatives of the gods. About an hour before bed have a bowl of whole grain cereal with milk and banana slices or warm apple pie and vanilla ice cream. You’ll be snoozing in no time. Don’t eat meat in any form; you’ll get a tummy ache.

Turn the TV on, put on a movie you’ve seen a million times and like, but dim the brightness so there is no light in the room. Light keeps your brain awake, so turn your alarm clock’s brightness down, too. The sound from the TV is necessary as the movie will occupy your brain and keep it away from other thoughts. Since you know the movie by heart, your mind can get bored and drift off. Listening to ocean waves and thunderstorm tapes can do the same thing, but don’t play Bjork, she’s just weird.

Tell yourself a story. Think of your favorite fantasy and start telling it to yourself in great detail. I often tell myself the story about when the reporters come to my work in droves to do a surprise interview with me for my multi-bazillion copy best seller and my boss stands by with his jaw hanging open. After the interview, I take all of my co-workers to the local pub and we drink the day away in celebration and then I quit in a hail of applause because I have a ten book publishing deal signed and paid. But that’s just my fantasy.

So, these are the some of the sleep strategies I use. Other times, I just like wallowing in my misery and feeling all pathetic, so I just stay up all night watching bad infomercials.

Disclaimer: As with all things I say, don’t believe me, as I am full of shit and rarely know what I’m talking about.

Harp Songs - A Winter Renga

I had the entire weekend to myself. This is what I did with it. Based on the winter renga form found here.

Title – Harp Songs
Author: VVK

Snow on the mountain,
Angels flutter above us
Exchanging harp songs

Cold wind raises pale feathers
Of the dove cushioned in clouds

Peace be upon us -
Rest for the weary heartbeats,
Lullabies are hummed

Soft downy blankets wrap up
Children asleep for a night

October moon shines
Down on gently closed eyelids,
Flight to far off lands

Dreams float over crimson leaves
Golden nature enriches…

Heaven crying out
Against the decay of time,
Understanding change

Longing for one another
Two heartbeats joining as one

Forever yearning
Straining to be together
Only for awhile

Apart in their humanness
But loving each none the less

Drifting in oceans
Alive with teaming mermaids,
Heaped in nets of fish

Gills shut off from oxygen
Fins and flippers treading water

Hidden extensions
Waving in desperation,
Strawberry moon smiles

Watermelon fragrance
Warm breezes caressing us

Sending light tripping
Over bells in a tower,
Tingling the taste buds

Cutting blades of crab grass
Sharp pinpoints on soulless feet

Inches from the end,
Cushioned by cherry blossoms
Swelling fresh again

Sweet clean earth turning over
By the force of sprouting seeds

Gentle rains falling -
Thirsty childhood life calling
To be understood

Growing pains apparently
Aching in every teardrop

Deadly thoughts surface
Around bubbling emotions,
Drowning out silence

Lambs, lions, lay in stillness
Peace unlikely bed fellows

Hibernating now –
Flakes of white alabaster
As frozen dew drops

Sculpting the sleeping terrain
Into silvery pillows

Heads cradled softly,
Rapture of comforting grace
Tense adoration

Ardent appreciation
Genuine adulation

Dented by many,
No one may put asunder
Upon steadfast rule

Cracks open in earthen cores
Masks fall away from closed faces

Innocence reborn,
Mother Earth births abundance
‘Neath a Hunters’ moon

Jack-o-lanterns of pumpkins
Costumes of golden yellows

Leaves dancing on trees,
Shadows and sunlight throughout
Rainbow canopies

Fairies play hide and go seek
Stealing unwary gypsies

Locked in crystal balls,
Wisps of future happiness
Mists of Avalon

A king hidden under spells
Budding of new promises

Perennial blooms,
Gardenias awaken in
Heaven’s arousal

Seraphim sing of April
Showers of string harmony.


Started: 20060812
Finished: 20060813

Liars' Club

I first met Quilldancer on a blue cheese collecting expedition on the moon. As this was a top-secret trip organized by the CIA, you can imagine my surprise when I saw a woman tripping the light fantastic across my private field.

She took care not to trample my harvest, while she bounded around in pure delight. While we both were wearing space suits, I could tell that she was laughing and giggling and having a grand old time.

She seemed to know something special and I wanted to know it, too. I racked my brain for a way to communicate with her. I know Sign Language but my hands were in mittens. The ink in my pen ran up instead of down on this gravity-less orb, plus I had no paper. Just when I ran out of ideas, she turned, showing me the message emblazoned on her back, “Kitties Rock.”

Notions of Sarcasm

Justin Kahn authors a blog that contains many notions of sarcasm. This chap cops many proclamations on account of his wit and his adoption of artificial humans, such as his old lady and his old man. Macho man hangs out in an accommodation high atop a building, baby sits his womanly sibling’s cats and has humungous artistic skills. Justin is also paramount in his usability of Anglican born lingo and his amazing ability to form words. His olifant companion, Sparky, poops allot. If you don’t cotton to his posts, shroud your BBQ grill. Sir thought up a java straining and cooking apparatus, making him justifiably proud. His Kahnship is now having a concours finishing tonight and I want to win a non-trophy.

A Pig, A Monkey, A Dress

Problem-solving Skills

I have been picked on a many times in my life. Let me give you some examples.

I’ve sat through numerous dumb blond jokes, despite the fact that my IQ was a good 90 points higher than anyone telling the jokes.

I was never offered pot when the joints were being passed around because everyone thought I was too lily-white.

Girls (boys, too) didn’t want to play with me because I couldn’t do splits.

At every family gathering, I am made fun of just because that one Father’s Day when I drank too much and went to bed before I served coffee and dessert.

People call me Harry Pothead when I wear my glasses.

But I have never been as hurt as when Quilldancer disqualified me from her contest for not being able to count. I am cut to the quick. Let’s see: how do we solve problems in the world today? Oh, yeah, let me don my mask and get my shampoo.

Writer's Block

I’d like to thank everyone who voted for me and played along with the caption contest at Sar’s place. While we didn’t win (we came in third) you helped us achieve a very respectable showing and I am impressed at the numbers because I only voted once. But those of you who voted more than once kick ass.

I’ve been walking my dog every morning now since the beginning of July and it has done me a world of good. I feel better, I sleep a little better, and I have more strength and energy. And I write some really cool things while I’m walking. Well, I tell myself really good things while I’m walking. I never actually get to write anything down. By the time I get home, sweat all over the place, get undressed, gulp water, shower, get dressed, give The Codes a cookie, pack my lunch, put away the clean dishes, shut off the TV, make sure I have my keys, my reading glasses, my sunglasses, give the pup a fresh bowl of water, try to remember if I forgot to brush my teeth, and look around the house with a dazed look in my eye, I’ve completely forgotten that dazzling story I was going to tell you or that incredible new addition to that sorely neglected Storytime saga.

So, I thought since I already have a tape recorder, I’d bring that along and dictate what I’m thinking into that wonderful contraption of the 20th century. It is voice activated and it’s not too big. But how would I carry it? I have Codel’s leash in one hand and his full poopy bag in the other. It (the recorder not the crap sack) must have a loopy thing. I could hang it from a lanyard around my neck. I don’t care much what I look like while I’m walking. I don’t care about the neighbors seeing me talk to myself.

The few times I’ve used a recorder, it worked out well.

So, I asked myself, “Why can’t I seem to get into the hang of using it?”

And then, another breakthrough (jeez, I’m just evolving like crazy): I don’t like the sound of my own voice. It really annoys me when I listen to myself. I wonder how other people can stand listening to that weak, little girl voice. It doesn’t sound anything like that powerful, intelligent person I hear in my head.

Self-serving

VOTE FOR ME Look on the side bar.

And read Sar's post for today. It is very appropriate.

And to quote Logo

"**JUST A LITTLE REMINDER**
It is the last day to vote for my caption,
and yes, you can vote multiple times.
I hope you'll take a moment and"
VOTE FOR GOLDENNIB

And just so I don't seem so self-centered, here's my dutifully done tag from Pink

I am thinking about…getting out of work in 41 minutes. The air conditioner broke at one.

I said...I would stop on the way home and get my hubby some beer. Aren’t I a good and dutiful wifey>

I want to...retire, now. No not retire, just not work for someone else.

I wish...I could write for a living.

I hear...I hear everyone saying, “Then do something about it.”

I wonder...if they are also saying, “Quit your whining and get off your ass.”

I regret...not persuing my dreams when I was in my twenties, instead of wasting my time debauching.

I am...pretty sure it’s not too late to try.

I dance...the jig in my mind when I see my first book published.

I sing...a lullaby, eeeee…..

I cry...whenever I hear Amazing Grace.

I am not always...in touch with reality. At least, not the shared reality of those around me. Usually, I am lost in one of my own making. Reality is after all, relative.

I make with my hands...a cup in which I pray for the cessation of wars around the world, if only for one minute.
I write...all of the time, but now it may be time to be productive (my World Peace speech.)

I confuse...up and down, in and out, black and white. It’s all in the way you look at them.

I need…a drink. Not really, but I don’t need much, so that’s as good an answer as any. I want a great many things. Now, whether any of them would be good for me, who knows?

COI Limerick

There once was a man named Justin
Words of wisdom were his custom
He wrote Concept Of Irony
To keep us all free
But mostly he was just a bustin’.

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My caption was nominated at Belle of the Brawl. I am lagging behind by only a few votes. Help tip the scales in my favor.

COI

Justin is witty and charming and sensitive and has a penthouse and he’s spells good. Check him out.

Thursday Thirteen Dorky Things About Me

Thirteen Things about Vanessa 1. I like Neil Diamond songs. 2. I don’t do drugs, recreational or prescribed. I think they should be used as a last resort. 3. I don’t watch reality TV. 4. I am not a celebrity junkie. I can go to my local bar and see people who change sexual partners every week, get so intoxicated they can’t control their mouths and lie to others and themselves. I don’t need to pay someone to see this mess. 5. I don’t stop to look at car accidents. 6. I don’t think people should take children into bars. 7. I would never follow my husband to see what he’s doing. If I felt the need to do this, I would know it was over and I’d leave him. 8. I can’t dance but I love to dance. 9. I can’t sing but I love to sing. 10. Vanilla is my favorite flavor. 11. I don’t think Howard Stern is funny, just outrageous, which I don’t find entertaining. 12. While I read almost anything I can get my hands on, I don’t read the newspaper. 13. I’m funny in my head. P.S. My caption was nominated at Belle of the Brawl. Help a girl out by voting for me so my one vote (me) is not so lonely. P.P.S. I thought I saw on someone’s blog how the Thursday Thirteen links are updated automatically. Does anyone know how to do that or was I hallucinating? Links to Commentors (leave your link in comments, I’ll add you here!) 1. Quilldancer 2. Logophile 3. Lisa 4. QUASAR9 5. Jenn 6. Güggenflürgen

Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!


The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

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White Rabbit

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I ran some errands on my lunch hour today. Dumb idea as it was so hot I could smell the burning rubber from the other cars’ tires and that hot rust smell from the other cars’ hoses through my car’s air conditioner. As I waited for the chill to increase, I turned on the radio to take my mind off of the queasiness. Heat and humidity make me sick to my stomach.

I listened to a Stones song; I don’t remember which one because I really don’t like them. When that was over, a commercial came on.

The announcer asked, “Do you feel uncomfortable in crowds or at large parties. Are you afraid of public speaking? Do you get uncomfortable when someone watches you read or write?”

I answered, “Yes,” to all of these in-depth and penetrating questions.

The man said, “If you answered yes to these questions, then you may have Social Anxiety Disorder.”

He said, “You can participate in a study in which you will be given a new anxiety drug to alleviate these debilitating symptoms.”

Gosh, I just thought I was a little shy. But, he made it sound really bad. Do you think I should do it?

Dancing at Lughnasadh

It’s Lughnasadh Eve. I planned on preparing for tomorrow’s First Harvest celebration by getting some fresh ears of corn and blueberries, both locally grown, but all of the farm markets were closed on my way home from work: too hot for them to stay open all day. I’ll go out at lunch tomorrow and get them. Instead of baking my blueberry corn muffins in the morning (with kernels of corn shaved from the fresh ears), I’ll do it tomorrow night. I’ll pick the ripe tomatoes and fresh basil from my own garden for a salad. I bought a lottery ticket today and I will actually check the numbers tomorrow. If you don’t hear from me, I’ve run away. No actually, if you see me blogging all day long and late into the night, you’ll know I’ve hit it. Oops, sorry, I digress into one of my favorite fantasies.

Where was I? Oh, yeah, thanking Mother Earth for her bounty. This is the time to really enjoy fresh fruits and vegetables: wallow in the excess of produce. We can really enjoy the fresh abundance while even knowing the Sun has begun its decline into Fall and then into the dead of Winter, where the Oak King rules. Life feeds death and the cycle continues.

As the moon is waxing to full, it’s a particularly good time for gathering in the abundance around us, physically and spiritually. What seeds have you been sowing over the last few months?

Dreaming

I promised Quilldancer that I would post something before the day was over.

I’m having voracious dreams. I wake up totally exhausted because I have such adventures while I sleep. I fly, swordfight, make friends with dragons, do magic, change shapes and sizes. And everything is in bright colors and clear sounds. How am I going to get rest this away?

I have always been like this. I can’t take any form of sleeping pill. Bugs crawl under my skin and the dreams are even more outrageous. I don’t need to take acid to take a trip.

Part of the problem, of course, is that I really enjoy my dreams. I try to sleep extra to finish them, I direct them while in half conscious states, and I concentrate on having certain ones again.

Do you think there is a job out there where I could get paid just to dream?

Fantasy

I drove to the park today on my lunch break. Located less than five minutes from my office, the park offers me a midday haven from my hectic, boring job. I putted over there and took a much needed reading vacation. (I hear you say I should have been walking at the park instead of reading, but I already walked this morning before work, so Nah.)

I sat with my cup of tomato soup in hand, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich waiting and my little novel. I parked in the shade of a tree to take advantage of the cooling effect in our heat wave. A few cars dotted the lot. No other people were around.

I read book five, Dread Mountain, of the Deltora Quest series by Emily Rodda. It is a children’s book. It has excitement, clever little riddles, and adventure. With short chapters, it is easy to put down and pick up, making it perfect for an hour’s getaway.

I lost myself in the strange creatures our trio met on their quest. I laughed at the idea of sitting in the pouch of a kangaroo type beast while it flew with great leathery wings. I pounded the seat when it appeared that Doom may be a bad guy. I shuddered when I found out Lief’s father rotted in prison. I cringed when the baby Kin fell to earth with an arrow in her heart.

I looked up, my heart beating rapidly from all of the drama going on in the pages of my book and I saw an elderly man standing in front of me. He had his shirt off, pot belly and man boobs jutting into the breeze, with sweat dripping from his brow, pitts and tummy. Talk about ruining a good high.

Did I Hear Someone Say Shit?

I woke this morning to the news that my president got caught cursing while speaking with Tony Blair. At first, I couldn’t believe what I heard, but then I wasn’t really shocked. The video revealed a rather nonchalant comment. By reading his lips, I could tell the word wasn’t a particularly bad one. When asked to comment on being caught using a four letter word, our fearless leader just shrugged and grinned.

I don’t know about you, but I like a man that is not afraid to be himself. What’s wrong with a little curse word now and again? Tony didn’t appear upset. He didn’t even bat an eye. I bet he’s even used worse words. I’ve used worse words. And I know you have, too.

He has already been reviled by a country singing female trio, people make fun of him on the internet all of the time, his parents cry every night because their sons just aren’t too bright, enough is enough, with the unimportant stuff. People should just lighten up on the man. Let’s face it, his language skills should be the least of our worries.

Did you see him chew and talk with his mouth open before he got caught cursing? His table manners are atrocious. Now, that’s something to lose sleep over.

Annie Get Your Gun

Mom One and her seven year old son stand in line at the sliding board waiting their turn. As the boy starts to climb the ladder another boy cuts in front of him, while his mother stands by smiling.

“Excuse me, but my son was next.” Mom One whines.

“Well, now my son is next.” Mom Two says with a smirk on her face and arms crossed in martial style.

Mom One appears on the verge of tears, and then an idea forms in her head.

Mom One rushes in her wimpy Mini Van to a special car dealer. She purchases a big, battle-ready, ATV. She charges out of the driveway with a purposeful look on her face. You can just hear her thinking, “I’ll get you now, beeatch.”

What is the moral of this story, children?

Inspiration

I didn't mention that Sar at Belle Of The Brawl made me her Reigning WPW Inspirational Blogger for my Spiders post. I am honored. And I got a crown.

Keep On Dancin'

I woke at 4:14 this morning. My eyes popped open and I couldn’t get back to sleep. Since my alarm rings at 4:30 anyway, I figured I’d just get up. What’s the first thing I WANT to do? Go online, of course. What’s the very first thing I really do when I wake up (after I go wee-wee, that is)? I start drinking Diet Coke to help my brain start functioning. After that, I decided I’d be responsible and do my chores first, then I could surf all I want without guilt (at least until it was time for work.)

I emptied the dishwasher. I filled the dirty dishes into the dishwasher (I luvs my dishwasher: I never had one before.) I put the wet clothes in the dryer. I gave the dog fresh water. I made my husband his lunch (if I don’t pack his lunchbox, he won’t eat and then he gets cranky. Plus, I have to keep him alive to pay the mortgage. See how responsible I am.)

My husband left for work at 5:30. I now had one whole hour to play without interruption.

I started using Firefox last night. It really is much better the Explorer, but I have to get used to it. I imported all of my favorite bookmarks. The list is getting really long. I have met the most fascinating people by visiting their websites.

I love to read the posts and the comments are always such fun. I add everyone I read to my list and then go through it top to bottom, reading them all. And because I like to get comments, I always leave one. Not always witty or interesting, but just something so they know I was there. All of this takes bucket loads of time. I watched the clock as I read. I wanted to finish the list before I left.

But before my hour was up, I started doing the pee-pee dance. I sat wiggling in my seat, trying to keep reading. My eyes began to swim, my teeth clenched, I bounced up and down. The dog thought I was nuts. And I guess I was, because I nearly wet my pants before I finally gave up and shut everything down.