I smolder across the land like a plague---
Ok, not really, but that's quite an image, isn't it?
I found this the other day while I was looking for stuff.
Thought you might like it.
I was Janis Joplin last time. Or maybe Jimi Hendrix--no, Jim Morrison. Definitely something with a J. I don’t know who I’ll be next time, and I rarely know who I am this time. But I do know that the tapestry of my infinity is spreading out all around me and I have a gap to fill. So, onward I press. Jim Morrison. Yeah. And I have a feeling that once I was a Medieval princess--I still look like one. Somewhere in the past of this current life, I was burdened with too much feeling. Now I am burdened with too little. Everything is distant and untouched by my heart, unabsorbed by my soul.
And another, heavier still:
She had said the word so many times that it almost sounded pretty. She had said it so many times that it had lost its flavor, lost its meaning. The repetitions had started out as a way to make real to her something that had only ever been intangible. She remembered with a hint of a smile, the first time she had discovered that words and names can lose all connotation if repeated enough times. She was in the backseat of her mother’s car, little girl legs sticking to white vinyl as summer air swept in through the wide window. They were rounding that bend where Dublin Road passes the turnoff to South Shore Drive—she smiled again, as she worked her mind around the logic to remember whether it was South Shore Drive or North Shore Drive because they had always seemed backwards to her. Now, she lived in a land of straight roads and “mountains to the east”—the compass was completely ingrained in her life. There, in that lush and rough country, she had never known north from south or east from west. The ocean was technically east of her, but with the jagged inlets and crooked harbors, it was never a direct line. North Shore drive was at the bottom of a hill, so to her it seemed like it should be south, not north. As they drove along that stretch of the road, she had repeated her cousin’s name to herself and after a few runs, there was a distinct flavor of newness about it—a disjointed jumble of sounds instead of the instant picture of his face in her mind. She would spend her life obsessing over words, and pushing them out of her mind with the force of ten fingers on a keyboard, pulling them into herself like a long-distance swimmer coming up for air. Words.
And now. Now she had found herself face-to-face with a word that had always meant little more to her than someone else’s abstract loss. She was supposed to slide this word over her others, like a shawl. Mother, wife, sister, daughter—layered over her like Victorian era clothing, each one adding more weight to her small frame, each one feeling awkward at first, then growing as comfortable as a well-worn pair of shoes. This one, though, this new one…she wasn’t so sure it would ever conform to her shape. The newly forming lines across her brow whispered of her worry that it would change the contours of her body as surely as the loss itself had changed the periphery of her vision, the path to her eardrums, and the arrangement of her taste buds. Everything was new, everything was unfamiliar.
She was too young to be the wife of a dead man.
She sighed, and then instantly regretted it. She was sighing too much lately, and it made her more tired.
That one I'm reaaaallly planning to continue with, but you've all heard that before.
I am such a non-finishing-starter!!!!!!
Happy Tuesday to you.
Put on a bra, you damn hippie!
It's Saturday Night and I have an inkling--
You know--a baby ink?
Eh. Don't ask me.
I did, however, attend a bit of a wedding today.
There was a pond nearby to which my boys were obviously drawn.
A bridge crossing a narrow part of it--perhaps a stream leading out of it?
Under the bridge (downtown) there were 3 shirtless, lightly tattooed young men (one of whom had that new style of sorta-mohawk...) and they were building a raft out of logs.
It was bizarre and kinda hot, frankly.
So I walked over the bridge, wishing for their sakes that it was a warmer day which would have meant I was bare-legged under my dress instead of sporting black tights.
Oh well, their loss. Ha.
Anyway, there were ducks all around and some fish visible under the murky surface of the water.
A dark form swam by--not a duck, but what?
I guessed that it was a beaver, its tail under the water so I couldn't be sure.
"What do beavers eat, mom?"
The first thing that snickered its way to my tongue was, "Wood."
So I explained that they chew through wood...but, still...I shouldn't have such a dirty mind!
I'm a mother!
And then as I scanned the pond for more wildlife, I saw some, alright!
I think they were gettin' down with some hardcore menage a trois action, but mostly I was annoyed that I couldn't figure out a way to make better use of the rhyming possibilites of "duck" and "fuck"....
"There was a duck getting a fuck"???
I mean, that works fine, but it really doesn't pack the punch I was looking for.
Ducks 'a fuckin'.
Get your duck fuck on, bitch!
Those fuckin' ducks were...fucking ducks
There were ducks. Fucking
Hit me with your best rhymes.
So all in all the wedding was quite a success.
I mean, who knows what'll happen with the marriage, but the pond rocked my perverted little world!
This morning, we entered Wii-Land and haven't looked back.
Wii + 100-inch projection screen = pure.bliss%
I stumbled across an old Tae Bo DVD yesterday when I was unable to go to the gym because the kids were home from school and consequently my boxing skills were in top form.
Hubby is off playing poker with some guys I don't know tonight.
This disappoints me on so many levels.
I love poker, I love people/guys (sometimes girls...eh...let's just say Utah doesn't have nearly as many cool women as you would think) and I love spending time with that tall blonde man who gave me his name and fertilized the two eggs my body thought it would be fun to produce at one time (still not sure how THAT all happened, but that's another gripe for another night).
***I interupt this post to swoon for Prince's Purple Rain......swooooooooooon!!!***
I hope hubby has fun.
And wins lots of money.
Speaking of Prince--
did I ever tell you guys the Super Bowl Half-time Show story?
If I did, just point and laugh, cuz I am the youngest person alive with Alzheimer's, but if not, listen up (what? can't you hear me in your head? I hear me in MY head...):
Prince performed at half-time of the Super Bowl this year and my kids happen to have a bit of a thing for Michael Jackson...
yeah, it creeps me out, but as long as they don't really know who he is, I'm fine with it.
I would rather jam out to MJ than the Wiggles or some shit, right??
So when Prince takes the stage one of the boys says, "Dude. Is that MICHAEL JACKSON?"
The other responds, "No, it's Elvis you idiot."
I seriously love those kids as much as if they were my own flesh and blood.
You know what I mean.
Ok, so not to jinx myself or anything, but I think I'm just going to go ahead and write the great American novel tonight if that's ok with you all.
I mean, obviously I won't finish
it tonight, but like, start it and stuff.
I think I could use a little pressure.
Enough of this crap.
If I can possibly borrow some brain cells from someone, I might remember to go to the Unitarian church tomorrow morning.
Don't hold your breath.
It's hard to change habits and my particular rut happens to be lounging about for half the day on Sundays, cooking a big yummy breakfast at some randomly selected time, and screwing the husband at some other randomly selected time, but never is there even a hint of church or anything like unto it on my Sunday morning horizon!
Some week soon I'll remember.
It always pisses me off SO BAD when I forget because I'm just so darned curious to find out what it's like there.
Have a happy rest of your weekend.
And wish me an inspiration-filled night of writing!
Produce gets me HIGH
Whenever I walk into Harmono's produce section I am overcome by a sense of euphoria.
I don't know if it's because their displays are so damned orderly--
apples with a shine like a row of patent leathers at church, pears nestled in fresh sawdust, various greens layered like a forest of vivaciousness!
If it's simply the fact that they have the freshest stuff around.
I don't really care, either, but I do love that place.
I think half my fridge is full of fruits and vegetables right now.
Ok, so I was browsing the other day and I came across this cool site.
I am still not sure whether it would be useful for me to join, so I was wondering if you guys could check it out and let me know what YOU think?
It's called KushCash
and it sounds like it's a way to use your phone for (at least some aspects of) your banking.
They have a Mastercard coming soon which I think would be the best part, but it's pretty cool.
There is also a blog
for it which is the most entertaining part of all, so read that at the very least.
Maybe they have subliminal advertising going on there so watch your back.
Or your subconcious...?
In other news, I sat on a stationary bike (pedalling) for 13 minutes this morning, waiting for my friend to come out of the locker room...
I knew she was there because her car was in the parking lot (and she's usually on time).
I remembered we were supposed to meet at 9, but...
when she called last night to see if I wanted to meet I was playing Sorry with the boys and I was only half-listening I guess.
Cuz...I forgot the part about meeting for a 9:00 CLASS.
Which explains why she wasn't meeting me in the cardio area like she usually does.
The class was full so there were no more exercise balls/mats/barbells and she had just given away the set she saved for me.
I'm such a moron.
I did something really stupid yesterday, too, but I can't remember.
I finished shopping and could not find my debit card in my purse.
I was beside myself, wondering if I had left it at the restaurant where I had lunch with my friend the day before (the menu offered "Belgium Waffles" and I kept making "England Muffin"/"France Toast" jokes...).
So I wrote a check and wondered where the hell it was.
When I got home and undressed for my shower I disovered my debit card in my sports bra.
I stuck it there after swiping it at the gas pump!!
What is wrong with me???
Happy St. Patrick's Day!
Happy St. Patrick's Day!
The sun is shining, the tunes are blasting--
summer is HERE, motherfuckers!
For the moment, at least.
This being Utah--the state of confusion--we will get at least 2 more snowstorms before July.
But that's a'ight.
It's so gorgeously sunny and not-too-warm that I can hardly stand to stay indoors!
And yet I do...
Yesterday we finally replaced our leaky fridge.
We bought it to go with our first house, 7 years ago.
It had more cubic feet than side-by-sides and, unlike those, would fit in its designated spot in our kitchen.
I've loved that fridge.
It had an in-freezer ice maker, which was the next best thing to the in-the-door one that my husband hankered after (at the time I didnt' give a shit, but stay tuned).
It was roomy and the shelves were all custumizable.
Then, one day...
shortly after we made like the Jeffersons and moved on up,
the icemaker started leaking.
This meant our lovely, large bucket of ice was often melted into one large brick of ice and the water was seeping down through the rest of the fridge and pooling under the crispers--but not before causing plenty of commotion on the way down.
We are lazy and/or cheap and didn't get around to replacing the fridge-a-rama until yesterday.
We now have the loveliest stainless steel, ice/water in door appliance.
Mmmmm....appliances get me so hot!
It does have slightly less space than our old fridge, but hardly noticeable,
and when we plug in the old one out in the garage we'll have plenty of overspill
(no pun intended!) for watermelons and cases of soda and frozen stuff.
I am soooooooooo excited.
Hubby is too, but it's kind of hard to tell, what with all the pain he's in from overexerting himself and his broken/bruised/generally unimpressed with life ribs.
I feel terrible, but at least now he's willing to go to the doctor.
It can't hurt--even though they can't do much for broken ribs, they may be able to give him some tips on how to recover faster or insist he stay in bed for a few days or something.
...which would be a good place for him...winka winka...
Enjoy your St. Patrick's weekend and kiss somebody Irish--
or at least kiss one of your pictures of me!
(yes, I'm very Irish)
Oh, here's what I wrote once (the condensed version of something that really happened):
I was mistaken for somebody beautiful once, which was one of the best compliments I have received. A girl in a bar, insisting that I was someone else. Repeating like a mantra, “She was so pretty. Are you sure you never worked there?” As though I would begin to speak with the missing Irish lilt and embrace her with a laugh, exposing my own rouse. I continued to shake my head and smile, no, I had never worked in that place, and as proud as I was to have been mistaken for a real Irishwoman, I was only Irish in name, and as one slice of my mottled, American heritage.
Can't think of a title to save my life. Dot com.
My kids' school just called.
We were a few minutes late this morning and Max didn't retried his card from the office which meant they thought he was not there at all.
What gets me is the manner in which they make their "your kid's not here" call.
I don't know that I have a better way, but it seems rather fucking odd to call the mother of a 6 year old and TELL her that her child isn't in school.
They say, "This is blah blah school and we are calling to tell you so and so's not in school today."
NO SHIT, SHERLOCK.
I mean, today he's there, but if he really wasn't there??
I'm pretty fucking sure I would know about it, since he'd be here.
I guess in older grades they have to worry about kids skipping school, and there's always that minute possibility that they were abducted (by aliens or Larry-the-perv) but jesus.
Why can't they say something like, "We are making sure you're aware that your child isn't in school"??
Or maybe I'm just passive-aggressive.
Heavy on the aggressive.
So yesterday I had the most cluster-fucked car wash attempt I've ever experienced.
There is one drive-thru place in my immediate area that offers an undercarriage cleaning as an option and I was finally getting around to washing my dirty-as-a-whore-house-bathroom car after our weekend in the rural mountains of Idaho so I wanted it done right.
I forgot about that place until AFTER I had washed the car at a different place.
I was annoyed at myself for forgetting about that place (which I've never used before) until after I paid for a wash somewhere else, but then I decided, "fuck it. It's only 7 bucks. and I reeeeeallly need this car to be clean."
So I drove to the other place and pulled up to the little machine where you enter your code or put in your money and discovered it only took quarters.
Since I didn't have 28 fucking quarters in my purse I backed up and went inside to pay.
I'm kind of glad I did because otherwise I may have been screwed, but I'm getting ahead of myself.
I paid and drove back over and entered my code.
The little light-up thingy said, "Drive Forward".
I did so, being lightly sprayed by the water as it prepped to start my wash.
Usually when the front tire is on a certain spot it switches to "Stop" but it never happened.
I moved slowly, carefully, but nothing.
So then I thought, "Oh, maybe it wants my back tire on the little thingy."
So I drove forward carefully, slowly, keeping my eye on the little sign.
It finally switched to "stop" but only for a second (still moving slowly and carefully) and then it told me to back up.
So I did
It then told me to drive forward again.
After a minute or two of fucking with it--
yes, slowly, yes carefully--
all the lights went off and the pitiful spitting water stopped altogether.
I drove out and went inside to get another code and try again.
The lady asked me if I backed up.
I explained what had happened and she said that a lot of people drive forward and back all the way out and drive back in and that turns off the machine, but she didn't think that what I had done should have triggered that.
So, she gave me a new code and I vowed to drive even more slowly, even more carefully this time.
And I did.
Oh so slow, Oh so careful!
And this time it never.
Told me to stop.
So I tried backing up and it, of course, turned off the machine.
So I went back inside and--with a smile--said, "This thing is starting to piss me off!"
She laughed and refunded my money.
But my newly washed and dried car now had a light spray of water covering it.
In effect, I had washed my car and immediately, deliberately left it out in a rain storm.
fucking god damn piece of motherless shit.
And just as a side note: eating does not go that well with blogging.
I mean, one-handed typing can be useful at times (wink-wink) but chroist.
This is ridiculous.
It practically takes the orgasmic pleasure out of eating, and we can't have THAT.
I might become an emotionally-healthy eater or something!
These strawberries are inexplicably perfect, though, and I can't stop eating them!
They may...possibly...be dipping themselves in a mixture of cream cheese and marshmallow fluff, but there's nothing I can really do to stop THAT.
This morning my husband said, "Did I tell you I bought a Wii?"
I nearly spit out my cereal as I was overcome with glee.
(for my Wii...heh...)
It'll be here in the next week or less and I am SOOOO excited.
It is the perfect invention.
Do you understand how perfect it is?
It may save our nation's couch potato youth from heart attacks and type II diabetes at age 25.
Get those slugs off the couch!
My kids, who are active as hell but love playing video games will now be able to combine their two great loves.
Now if only they could use the Wii on the trampoline, we'd be in heaven.
You can bet your ass you'll be hearing more about this upon its installation and implementation.
I better hop in the shower.
This morning I'm getting an ultra sound on my neck.
I told my husband that if they find a baby in there I am THROUGH swallowing.
No, they're just checking to make sure my thryoid looks right.
I have been having a little trouble swallowing lately (no pun implied) and just feeling like my neck is a little swollen inside but not sore throat-related.
I'm sure it's nothing, but it doesn't hurt to check.
I have my book group tonight and a play to see on each of the next 3 nights.
I am verrrrry excited for all of the above, and will catch you all on the flip side.
Or maybe on the flop side.
Or the flap
Daylight Sucking Time
And unfortunately that sounds kinda hot.
But what I really mean is that this whole turning back of the clocks thing is pissing me off.
It just really fucks with my whole world.
Not so much yesterday because we were still out of town and didn't have to get up at a certain hour, but today?
Let's just say that I had a rogue 6 year old end up in our bed last night and that's never good for getting good sleep (happens about twice a year, so I'll live) and then I was also stupid enough to leave my cell phone by my bed and I ended up receiving 3 very loudly-announced text messages in the wee hours!
I then turned off my phone and got a little more sleep before the boy wandered in.
I feel like poo.
Or the mother of much younger children.
When the alarm went off, so did I.
I have had a very growly morning, but now that the kiddos are at school
(laughing all the way, incidentally)
I feel much better.
The snowmobile trip was absolute perfection.
The snow was great, the sleds purred like kittens,
and we had someone else cooking and cleaning up from all our meals.
The hot tub was hot, the sauna was dry, the drinks were cold.
We played poker and I won about $50.
We played Cranium and I breezed through all the word worm cards.
(that category is like crack to me--I would get all breathless and sparkle-eyed every time it came up)
I am just glad that I suck at some of the other categories so I didn't look like (as much of) a show-off.
Spelling backwards is my new favorite hobby.
I am still a little sore from spending so many hours controlling that giant machine but it feels great.
I didn't get hurt this time, but my husband managed to injure his ribs.
Probably not a break, but some pretty definite and long-lasting pain.
He broke two ribs and punctured a lung when he was a teenager, so he is fairly certain that there are no breaks.
One of the guys chipped a couple of teeth, and one of the women got pinned under her machine when it flipped, but she wasn't hurt.
I got some new music to download and some new authors to try and even a new recipe from the sweet little lady who cooked our food.
I am glad to be home, but I have a busy week.
On Wednesday I'm hosting my Book Group, and then the next 3 nights I have plays to see.
Fortunately, I'm doing preview articles on all of them and no reviews because--
next week is spring break for my school!
Spring is here, for the moment, and so if I can finish the article I have due today I get to go hiking with my best friend!!!
So, screw you guys--I'm getting to work.
I am busy, like a bee--
Or maybe more like a Me.
Or a knight who says "Ni"?
Today I will go to Wingers for lunch,
but really for their $2 draft/apricot Hefeweizen.
I have much writing to do before we leave on our long weekend to the snowmobile paradise which is Idaho.
First to the gym, then a shower and zip over to Wingers with the laptop.
I don't need anyone to eat with--I have my computer!
Well, it's not mine...hubby borrowed it so that 3 of us could play WoW together last week...
I am pumped.
Somehow I have a feeling that my brilliant plan is going to be gnawed upon by Mice.
Or possibly men, because it really is the best laid plan I've had all week.
Last night was the best laid Me I'd had all week.
I visited a History of Printing museum
And was graced with the beginning of a poem:Metal running like water
Letters carved into lead
Words flow across the landscape of humanity.
But with me, beginnings are always left end-less.
The endless beginnings,
The countless endings—
Churning through my mind and rushing out into my blood stream.
They poison the soft, warm air of my nostrils and slip down my unwary throat.
Will they surface again, those truncated tales?
Will they weld themselves together, those beginnings and those endings?
Will they conquer me and own me, or will I continue to neglect them
And in doing so, negate them?
Have a simply delicious day, would you?
because I'm nothing if not a man of my word.
Woman, that is.
And also, I'm nothing if not a procrastinator and a flake who usually forgets she even made promises like this one, so whatever.
The "I don't really need reading glass yet, but I read so much my eyes hurt, so why not?" reading glasses.
The "sold in the men's section, and not as girlie as some of the girlie boxers" Boxers.
(as opposed to "well-fucked" or "we'll fuck")
I really kind of would like to move operations back over to the old location,
but there's a problem.
My homepage is set to this URL, so everytime I open I think of this blog.
It matters not that both blogs are associated with the same log-in profile thing-a-majig.
And now you know how I translate lazy-type behaviors into some sort of inverse OCD.
I stepped on some glass, or something sharp and barely-visible this morning.
It hurt like a motherfucker for a second or less and then I hopped around for a while,
hoping it would miraculously fall out.
Hubby even brought me my reading glasses so I could see better,
and some tweezers and wound cleaning solution.
I dutifully contorted myself so that I could see the outside edge of my right foot,
but all I could locate was the place where blood was peeking out onto the surface.
Hubby got even closer and has naturally spectacular vision and he said there was nothing there.
Then he poked at it just to prove his point and I squealed.
Well, it IS his birthday today.
He's allowed to do whatever he wants.
No, what really happened is that he refused to excise the invisible intruder because he hates hurting me, but I forced him to try and then changed my mind.
So, I'm a bit gimpy, but I imagine I'll live.
Unless there was tetanus on that little devil...
or poison (of a very slow-working variety)...
or something else equally far-fetched.
It was a good day.
We went to the Planetarium to see a couple of shows, but one of them was cancelled.
Oh well. The other one was most fabulous.
I went shopping for some clothes for my husband as one of his birthday presents
(he's lost 20 pounds in the past month or so and he's been looking forward to updating his wardrobe, so it wasn't an entirely utilitarian gift! Besides, I gave him 3 other things that were VERY thoughtful and why am I defending myself to YOU??)
and I considered (briefly--pun intended) getting him some silk boxers.
Just for my own personal enjoyment.
But they didn't have any I liked and then I changed my mind anyway, and in the course of my men's underwear persual I discovered a disturbing trend.
Several of the main prints were very feminine.
Not that there's anything wrong with That, but...
if I see a guy drop trou and there are butterflies and/or petunias staring back at me, I'm going to wonder if my adam's apple's showing!
I guess I'm not very progressive.
I did, however, love the prints and grabbed a pair for myself.
So, I'll take a photo soon and you guys can vote on whether you'd want to make out with or go shopping with a guy wearing the same print.
Did that make sense?
Anywho, sense or nononsense, I'll snap some pictures of the boxers and the reading glasses, just for fun.
Yes, I'll be modelling both.
I'm still VAIN, of course!!!
And did I mention I'm as sleepy as a princess in a tower with a cursed spindle...?
Call me Sybil
But I posted over at Bored Housewife
Don't worry, I'm just testing the waters.
No sudden changes on the horizon or anything.
I just feel like that site was more ME in a way.
I abandoned it when I was overwhelmed and stressed out and I needed an escape from everything, and the only one of my "responsibilities" that I could elude was that one.
I don't know if I'll get more involved in blogging again if I switch back, or if the URL hosting my words will in any way affect them, but I'm considering it.
I have also started doing a daily writing exercise to pump some life into my fiction attempts.
I may start posting those, a la Spontaneous Fiction
, but I may not.
(I mean, I'm not THAT good!)
Go read my real post.