To those on that side of the dateline:

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

This is a test. This is only a test.

“The windows of my soul are made of one-way glass, don't bother looking into my eyes if there's something you want to know, just ask”
-Ani Difranco

Which of Santa's Reindeer Are You?

You Are Dasher

You're an independent minded reindeer who never plays by the rules. Why You're Naughty: That little coup you tried to stage against Santa last year Why You're Nice: You secretly give naughty children presents.

Which of Santa's Reindeer Are You?

Predator and prey

Theo samples Quinn by McBeth.

A predator is any animal that hunts and eats other animals, which are called the prey. Generally, carnivores are predators and herbivores are prey. Predators have adaptations to catch, kill, and eat their prey, and, in return, the prey have special adaptations to avoid being eaten.

Predators play an important role in nature. Many scientists believe they help keep the populations of their prey from getting too large and using up more food and other resources than their habitat can provide. To be successful hunters, predators need to be able to see, smell, or hear their prey.

Predators need feet and legs adapted to running down (pursuing) their prey or to sneaking up on them. Predators need powerful teeth and jaws to kill and eat their prey; many have sharp claws to help catch the prey. Predators do not chew their food but tear it off the bones and swallow it whole.

Good eyesight is important to help predators in locating food. Predators generally have both eyes in front of their heads, so that they are looking forward, which gives the animal binocular vision. Binocular vision permits an animal to judge the distance of an object accurately. This is important when a predator is trying to leap at or run down an animal. Cheetahs and hawks, for example, have binocular vision. (People also have binocular vision, as do other primates and climbing mammals, because arboreal animals need to be able to judge distances between tree limbs for jumping and swinging. Scientists believe that early ancestors of people were tree-dwellers.)

Newborn young of predators are usually altricial (helpless) and depend on their mothers for care. The young are hidden in rock cavities, thickets, and holes; and in the case of lions, cared for by the entire pride (family group). In contrast, the babies of prey animals are generally precocial; soon after birth they are able to get up and run. This is important, because the newborn herbivores are often hunted as food by predators. Baby zebra and wildebeest can stand up and follow the herd only a few hours after birth. The large herbivores of the savanna usually bear only one young, rarely two; in contrast, lions, leopards, and cheetahs can have one to six young, though two to three is normal.

Predators hunt to feed their young and in turn teach them how to hunt. It takes a lot of practice to become a good hunter. Predators hunt their prey in three ways: stalking, chasing the prey down, and attacking in a pack. Some predators, such as the lion and leopard, stalk their prey. They can outrun their prey only over a short distance. They first get close to the prey, moving quietly and staying low to the ground, hiding in the vegetation. When they are very close, they leap and ambush the prey. Lean, long-legged cheetahs first stalk their prey, but then outrun them and chase them down, running at speeds of up to 60 miles (100 kilometers) per hour for limited distances of up to 400 yards (366 meters). Some predators, especially smaller ones, such as hyenas and wild dogs, hunt in groups. When a prey animal is sighted, the hunting pack chases it down and the meat from the animal is shared. The advantage of hunting in packs is that different pack members can take turns in chasing the prey at high speed - expending the prey's energy but conserving that of the individual members of the pack. Animals that hunt in packs must work together to be successful.

-from Discover Africa

happy Chrisnukahkwanstice to you and yours.

Please accept with no obligation, implicit or explicit, my best wishes for an environmentally conscious, socially responsible, low stress, non-addictive, gender neutral celebration of the winter solstice holiday, practised within the most enjoyable traditions of the religious persuasion or secular practices of your choice, with total respect for the religious/secular persuasions and/or traditions of others, and their choice not to practise religious or secular traditions at all... and a fiscally successful, personally fulfilling and medically uncomplicated recognition of the onset of the generally accepted calendar year 2006, but not without due respect for the calendars of choice of other cultures whose contributions to society have helped make Britain great (not to imply the Britain is necessarily greater than any other country nor is it the only BRITAIN" in the northern hemisphere), and without regard to the race, creed, colour, age, physical ability, religious faith, sexual orientation and choice of computer platform of the wishee.

By accepting this greeting, you are accepting these terms. This greeting is subject to clarification or withdrawal. It is freely transferable with no alteration to the original greeting. It implies no promise by the wishee actually to implement any of the wishes for her/himself or others, and is void where prohibited by law and is revocable at the sole discretion of the
wisher.

This wish is warranted to perform as expected within the usual application of good tidings for a period of one year, or until the issuance of a subsequent holiday greeting, whichever comes first, and warranty is limited to replacement of this wish or issuance of a new wish at the sole discretion of the wisher.

what is your deepest conviction?

"A 'No' uttered from deepest conviction is better and greater than a 'Yes' merely uttered to please, or what is worse, to avoid trouble."

-- Mahatma Gandhi

I stabbed myself with my splayd.

Don't ever call this thing a spork.
It isn't one. This creature - the spoon/blade - was invented by WIlliam McArthur in 1943. I learned much about these beautiful creatures when I dated still-beloved-aussie-gal Sara for several years. I brought what I believe is this exact cased set of splayds home from Melbourne along with me. I'm sure it was my kid who lost the one which now remains missing - I was heartsick when I was no longer able to could six of them in the silverware drawer and he didn't seem to be the least bit concerned so sure, let's blame him for the moment.

Here's the important bit: do NOT attempt to use one of these to get food into your mouth if you are not fully and entirely awake with all your faculties to guide you (and the splayd).

They bite. And sometimes they'll even draw blood. It's true! I have a puncture wound in my upper lip where I made a wayward attempt to put lunch into my mouth to prove it.

I missed the hole in the middle of my lips. OW.

That's all. You are dismissed.

Not only does Santa distribute packages, sometimes he also has to adjust them

The Big Man himself paid a visit to a Dodgeville, WI Culver's Frozen Custard restaurant this weekend.

[side note: for those not in the know, frozen custard is just this side of heaven. If you haven't tried it, please add it to the list of things to do before you die. It's just one of those very nice things. Got it? 'K, good.]

Before making his grand entrance Santa prepared himself in his Santerly way, though he clearly didn't know that there were folks out in the dining area with cameras at the ready who could see him *koff* shifting his package around. After he turned to see me snapping away, he laughed a ho ho ho (kids at the next table donchaknow) and said "Don't you know that Santa likes to know when he's having his picture taken?". I winked back at him, replying "Oh yes, but I saw what Santa was busy doing back there."

I shook his gloved hand and we exchanged knowing smiles.

DING DING DING!

There's a contest going on here in the best local weeky paper to find the Gaudiest Holiday Yard Display.

Those of you who know me IRL can probably imagine the joy I've had trying to find them a few good contenders. We wouldn't want to leave any qualified people out, now would we? NO. We most certainly would not; especially after all the time and trouble (and electric bills) they've channeled into entertaining the public. Which I suppose also could possibly be perceived as wanking off for that slim minority who might find overindulgent yard displays uhm, overindulgent. But I digress. Thus far I haven't seen many entries (other than my own, I mean) but I think we may have our winner right here.

Subjective decision, of course, but hey I found it, I claim it. Isn't how that goes?

HO HO HO HAHAHA HO HO HO HAHAHA HO HO HO

HO HO HO HAHAHA HO HO HO HAHAHA HO HO HO

Though I must say the kid-mcbeth would have loved her own personal candy factory had her parents been more of the over-the-top yard decorator types. When I was very young (1st grade through 3rd grade, if wobbly memory serves me right) I used to walk to the house at the bottom of Davenport Avenue all by myself at night. That was still back at a time when parents had not yet been overwarned to never NEVER let their pre-25 year old children out of the house alone without a harness, a bell, a bottle of pepper spray, a cellphone, and a grownup with a concealed weapon. Ah well, that's what a girl gets for being born to Lutherans I guess.

At any rate, I meandered down to the house on the corner because the four or five times those neighbors acknowledged my child presence they didn't yell at me. They didn't frown. They didn't tell my parents I was doing something wrong. They just saw me, smiled a quick grownup smile, then went along with whatever they were doing. That was enough to endear them to me really, but what I truly appreciated about them was their Christmas display.

First of all, we were able to openly call it a Christmas display. Because geez, that's what it was: Their yard, Biblical carol and seasonal hymns piped through outdoor speakers, high cost Jesus junk scattered all over = Christmas display. Those were clearer times. Not necessarily better times, but clearer at any rate.

They never minded me standing on their sidewalk, just staring like a complete mini dope at the creche for nearly an hour at a time, singing along with the piped-out tunes. I've always preferred thinking that they actually saw me there and chose not to mind me rather than the alternative (ie: they never even knew a little kid was freezing out there in the cold in their yard, but was singing her heart out to their 'O Come, All Ye Faithful' until she took her last little breath and then broke into a million icicled pieces).

I liked those private moments alone. They made me feel so mah-tour. Funny isn't it? I don't nearly feel the need to show my adultness now, but I still crave those private moments. Candy factories and alone time ... I guess I'm a lot less complicated than I sometimes think I am.

Delicious

baked brie, bread and bruit. Fruit. by McBeth.

Sometimes I have a gut feeling that I should bring my camera along for odd trips or errands around town. Sometimes I listen; I'll slog my camera bag along with me even if I don't end up taking the little beaut out. Other times, like today, I ignore the feeling and end up kicking myself for second-guessing myself.

For example, had I paid attention to that little feeling today I would have been able to show you some really great examples of what I suspect was drunken collegiate snowperson building. One huge snowman had a traffic cone stuck atop his head (I unofficially named him 'conehead', which was followed immediately by a strong yen for the old SNL). A couple of downtown yards later there was another snow person - again with the fancy head decor seemingly considered extra-specially when final touches were considered. But instead of a cone on top, this fellow had a broom shoved into the top of his (her?) head and straight down what would be its snow spine, giving him that loveliest of hairstyles, the broommohawk effect.

I mentioned to KD (who was passengering in Scarletta at this time while I drove) after the second funky snow person that I had considered bringing my camera bag earlier and was now regretting the fact that I hadn't.

Not 20 seconds after saying this, we reached an intersection at which I had the red light. The cross street was a one-way heading right and to the right was a large delivery/cartage truck stuck in a very very wrong position across the right lane, pointed toward the left lane, with its hazard lights flashing.

Seemed a very strange thing for a truck to be parked right there on the side of an intersection and we quickly realized why it wasn't moving anywhere: however it happened to GET there in the first place, the truck apparently backed up into a fire hydrant and had hooked a large metal piece on its rear around a sticky-outy piece of the hydrant. I swear, the driver couldn't have tried to aim that big monster of vehicle onto that relatively teeny target if his life had depended on it.

Me without my camera. Argh.

So instead of sharing today's street scenes, I hope your taste buds can, instead, be tempted with the brie, bread and fruit that friends Barney & Goldy prepared for a recent party at KD's place. B & G both work other jobs but they're true foodies at heart and they try to land catering gigs whenever possible ... and they gig quite well I must say.

If your gut tells you something today - pay attention. Listen. Maybe you decide not to follow through this time, but it won't kill any of us to pause long enough to catch the message. That's the first step, right?

Never enough.

red and blue fence by McBeth.

Some folks like decorating the ol' homestead for the holidays. I've been watching to see if the current spike in heating and electricity costs would have a cause/effect dent in the number of people who do up their yards into freakish seasonal spectacles that they are. Don't get me wrong, I really DO enjoy a light display. There's something that draws me to a lit up yard like a two year old to an electrical outlet; like a moth to a flame, like Homer to a box of doughnuts.

There is a small 'bah humbug'ish chunk of coal inside me - and perhaps inside you too. If nothing else, maybe the joy we can take during this time of year is how fantastically over the top people can, and do, go. I mean... TIPPY top.

There's something quite respectable in their almost desperate and yet deeply committed yearning for more more more and in their indiscriminating decision to never stop until they've overdone it.

Red reindeer

...The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there...

Dairyland Dolls

Mouse, as 'Jammer', passes members of the opposing team (in this case, the Tent City Terrors), to score points for the Mad Rollin' Dolls. This weekend's game was exhibition only and was an exciting lead-up to the season opener, scheduled for January 2006. In the end the TCTs won the match, 116-105,

Yum!

quinn's apple pie

quinn's apple pie by McBeth.

This Thanksgiving my brother arrived with quite a surprise:

He'd developed a sudden yearning to bake.
Pies.
Many pies.

Seven pies, to be exact.

The five that I can remember were this pretty latticed apple (oh yum), a pecan, two different pumpkin versions, and a frozen peanut butter/oreo.

Heaven!

~*~ Happy Birthday Audrey! ~*~

She was barely two pounds when she was born; nearly 14 inches long.
Such a frail tiny tiny little human, she arrived far too early,
far earlier than her parents had ever expected,
earlier than anyone had expected.

She was baptized the day she arrived in the world, because there was a good chance that day might have been her only day.
The hospital chaplain - a kind man with a gentle smile, dripped individual drops of water onto her forhead from a shell and blessed her while her parents watched on.

She stayed in the NICU for months. Her momma and daddy became regular fixtures there.
She kangarooed, she slept, she ate, she grew.

And somehow the trauma and drama of her very youngest very earliest days passed. It felt raw and uncertain but she transformed into a newborn gerbil looking creature into a human infant looking creature. She was able to go home. She learned to hold her head up, to sit, to roll over, to walk. She ran and soon she ran faster than all the people around her. After a couple of years it seemed like a strange dream those early years, as though we'd all just made them up. And now we are, even a few more years away from those first frightening days.

I'm amazed and delighted that today is her 5th birthday.

She'll never be a four year old again.

My sister read to her last night and asked her what her favorite 4 year old memories would be. Audrey replied that swimming at a nearby lake was one of her favorite things to do, and also the time that Beppie (that's me) took her camping. My sis said "I think you went camping with B. and J. when you were three, honey". Aud thought it over for a few seconds and responded, "Well, can I still tell you about it? She took me camping at Blue Mounds State Park and Delaney was there -she's a kid- and ..." and she continued telling her momma alllll about it.

It makes my heart all warm and gooey to know I'm an important grownup to that kid.
She's an important kid to this grownup.

and the five shall become one

Hard to tell from the small image over there, but that'll be an example of the great magic that is Photoshop CS2 within a day.


That digital image actually began as five separate images. I merged them. Played with them. Removed the parking lot and a convenience store from the lower left and right sides, respectively. I cropped it some.


Keep an eye open and you'll see the transformation.

Here's a helpful hint (if you want to be able to view it up just a little closer): click on the image. Go on, you know you want to. Just do it. You'll feel so much better.

UPDATE: tah-dah. Lookie there on the right ... Neat, hunh?

Cupcakes and (de)composition

My niece came to my house to play with me today. You can call me a babysitter if you want, but I really dig the kid. She popped out of her momma three months early, weighing a whopping two-point-what's-the-use-of-counting-the-ounces-when-she's-this-small pounds.

She looked like a baby gerbil when she was born. Her skin looked raw and unfinished in that 'put it back, it's not done baking' kind of way. And she lived in a box with special lights and lots of tubes and soft touching and diapers made of gauze pads because that's how small she needed a diaper to be. I swiped one of her pre-pre-preemie diapers from the hospital during one of my visits there. After I left I put the diaper on a rubber chicken I had hanging on the credenza back at work so I could remember just how incredibly small and frail and alive she was. It was a good way for me to remember to keep the joy and sadness and fear and all those Big Human Emotions all together near one another in quite a physical way. If I ran into trouble with one I could always call on one of the others toot-suite. Yes?

So she's going to be five soon, this one. This kid who has the energy of 29 horses and the smile of several constellations' worth of twinkling stars. We have a certain way of doing things at my house. She wants to do six different art/coloring projects while watching Kid TV while playing a board game while building a Lego tower with her toes. Audrey has a tendency to be very much like her aunt in this regard and the primary rule of business came quickly for us both:

First things first, one thing at a time.

Today's first thing, we decided, was to be the cupcake making. We made a mid-cupcake-making trip to the grocery store when we accidentally ran out of vanilla. And because Audrey 'would really really love a little drink of the grape juice like that little girl on tv is drinking, but I prefer the purple to the see-through kind'. What can I say? I'm a sucker for her batted eyelashes and she needs nutritional juice products.

Cupcake making was good fun for both of us. She learned to crack eggs by herself today. I'd measure the other ingredients and she'd pour them into the bowl. I held the hand mixer (she can't stand loud noises) and she licked the beaters when the mixing was done. And when it came to decorating time, she had roughly 13 different shakers of varying sizes and shapes containing sugars and sprinkles and nonpareils and themed crunchies (four of the shakers had come together as a 4-pack... the Scooby-Doo theme, donchaknow: Scooby snacks, dog bones, dog tags and some other completely unidentifiable sugary shape in neon colors. That'smygirl though, going for the sparkly shiny neon bright whatever it might be.

We don't usually put frosting on our cupcakes unless it's a special special occasion, so I suggested that she put the sprinkles right on top of the batter and we'd bake 'em in. She took me seriously, opening every lid so she could get to aaaaaalllll the shakers without having to get mad if her fingers got slippery and she couldn't open one of them (yes, she said that was one of her big concerns). She used up several containers' worth of sprinkles and sugars on those 12 cupcakes and she had a ball.

We put the decorated cupcake batter into the oven, set the oven timer, and attended to the next two tandem items on our busy list: funeral and aquarium cleaning. I hadn't noticed that at some point during this past weekend one of my fish died. The four year old with hawk vision noticed immediately when she asked to help me feed them. I pulled out the net, tried my best to give her honest (honest, not scary and revolting) answers to the questions she asked about dead stuff. I showed her the tail section only when she asked to see the dead fish I had essentially scraped off the bottom of the filter, in pieces. I suggested that it might make her feel even sadder if she saw the whole dead fish (without adding the 'in 15 rotting pieces' part) so how about we just look one last time at the tail and I'll take it outside.

'How come you take dead fish outside?', she wanted to know. I silently asked myself whether answering 'well darling, anything larger than a rabbit turd will clog the toilets so out he goes!' would affect her adversely for the rest of her life. Yeah, probably.
Instead of insisting on absolute accuracy in my reporting, I gave her a short 'circle of life' lesson, at the end of which she insisted excitedly that she could help me dig a hole in which to bury the fish.

Cool. I'd appreciate the gravesite company.

A few minutes later the fish was buried. She added the sweet touch of childhood to our brief ceremony when she asked me to fill her watering can with some of the old water from the fish tank. I brought out a small plastic container of water which she poured over the buried fish.

When I asked her why she had chosen that particular spot on which to dump her water she confidently replied that she was pretty sure that giving some of that water to the dead fish 'it might get back alive'.

The post-funeral visitation took place in the living room. While nibbling cupcakes and sipping juice Aud decided that the remaining two fish left in the tank would both be named Oinky. We visited the fish store later, and she named one of the two platys 'Sleeping Beauty' and the other platy, Oinky. As are the two new tetras and the suckerfish.

So that's Oinky, Oinky, Oinky, Oinky, Oinky, Oinky and Sleeping Beauty. Alrighty, I think the system is simple enough for even me to remember.

The car ride out to her house after the post-cupcakes post-funeral post-snack post-fish tank cleaning was a deluxe guessing game. Here's how that game is played:

• think of an animal.
• give some semi-telling clues about what that animal looks like/says/eats/lives
• pretend you are that animal. Demonstrate the look/sound/etc.
• have the other person guess what you might be.
• it's extra funny if your aunt guesses a completely wrong animal. If you say you have a pouch on your tummy, she might say something like 'what? that pouch isn't to hold your groceries in?'
• if there are two animals you are especially fond of, keep using those two animals over and over and over and over. Like, say... oh, a puffer fish and a giraffe. Your aunt will never be able to figure out the 'I have a long neck' clue you give her, not even if you use that animal nine times in a row.
  

I hope we have more play dates soon. Its appearing as though Thanksgiving will be a kidtastic time. My two nephews (brothers, aged 6 mos. and 2.5 years) will be coming with their momma and daddy to the family gathering. I've already warned J. that he'd best stretch his back in preparation for the 'MYYYYYY turn to climb on cousin!' game. That's another especially fun one.

These little people, they grow and leave and do what all young who survive nest living are meant to do. Seems to me that the flash of those tender little childhood moments are just like the Scoobysnack sprinkles that Aud so generously covered the tops of her cupcakes with ... sweet, crunchy, and I can't possibly seem to get enough of them to fit on the top.

Two - two - two treats for one

The Williams-Sonoma shop, despite being a very pretty and oh-so-kitchenlicious store, did not have the rubber plunger ring I have been seeking to replace on my French Press pot -and now with a greater renewed fervor since the plastic began breaking off so I drink itty bitty slugs of stained plastic along with the dark roast I've just brewed and stewed...

Instead, while meandering around the store touching and oohing and feeling and aahing and 'ooh lookie here'ing at KD, I found something new and altogether different: liquid Turbinado sugar.


I am a huge Turbinado sugar fan. I like the larger sugar crystal size (why? who cares. I just do.) I like the depth of the molassesesque flavor. Raw sugar is one of the few things I actually make a point of finding... I very rarely use refined white sugar in the beverages I drink.
This was a long time coming. I finally got to thinking: I'm a product of my society and I am what I put into myself. SoooOOOooo, perhaps I could try a slower more thoughtful pace and more natural foods. I feel a little embarrassed about the whole munchy-crunchy-granola-ey attitude but never fear, I'm nowhere near ready to build a cabin in the mountains and cease bathing 'for the good of Mother Earth'. I started small: honey in tea, turbinado in coffee.

So yeah. This sugarshots stuff is like a new toy. An expensive new toy at $9/bottle, but I suspect it will probably last longer than I think it will; cane sugar is sweeter and therefore I'll use less to get the same sweet as its refined white sugar sister. I tried in vain to find a Will-Son. link; it's only available for purchase in-stores.
However, here are a couple of places you can go to buy the good stuff online if you can't wait:
There's that bastion of good taste, or you might try the pillar of tempting teas, or if you're reaaaally tweakin for it, go straight to the crack dealer.


Oh noooo, don't you even feign thinking the treat-doling is over just yet.

Nope nope nope~


Ginger Almond dish soap.
I sniffed at least six of the varieties they had and, in the end, this was The One.

It's another outrageously expensive item (for dish soap?!) but I felt lavished tonight. I suppose I should say 'further lavished', after two cocktails and a tasty salad with KD at the new employer of the mutual friend who introduced us just over a year ago.

Want to hear my rationalization for this purchase?
Okey-dokey, here ya go:

I do dishes. I do a lot of dishes. J. has helped with dishes and decided that he'd rather scoop the litter boxes than do dishes. That's how much he dislikes dish washing. I'm with him... sometimes I find it calming but generally speaking it's just a major pain in my ass and a mess across the available counter space.

Why NOT find a pleasant bottle of dish soap that will take me to a happy place each time I have to wash another sinkful?

Why not indeed.

the kids finally got on God's last nerve

Last night's discussion on the local news about the high winds warnings was no joke.

Our condominium association handiman happened to notice this tree - ripped right from its base but without the root ball - down near the smaller of our two playgrounds this morning while he came to our property to take care of something altogether different.



The power lines had been ripped down due to the felled tree and were laying across the ground near the playground, just waiting to electocute the next unsuspecting fun-seeking child.

Thankfully, it was at such a time that no children had seen the fun new natural play structure laying between their playground and the fence. The past few hours have been filled with Large Trucks, menin warm outdoor clothes carrying chainsaws and no electrical power.

But no minipeople were harmed, and all should return to normal very shortly. As the handiman and I chatted and exchanged information we agreed that if it isn't one thing it's another.

It might be official...

I am temporarily and slightly unwell.

My mind is giving me fits. Noisy one moment, not letting me sleep, not permitting me to get one thought flowing before it sends another to interrupt.

And then - and so rudely then - closing up shop early. A siesta, so to speak, only not selectively cited for the searing spike in afternoon heat (because at this time of the year in Wisconsin there may be a peculiarly permissive unseasonably warm front floating blissfully by, but I can assure you there is most definitely no afternoon heat spike).

I'm frightened, a little.
I'm tired of the nutsness, a medium amount.
I'm worried that I might need to shrink away from people, a lot.

Because people are people are people and there must be a proper explanation for everything, donchaknow. Why am I where am I what am I doing/hiding/seeing/hearing whatever it is that I may be, they'll want to ask.


I'll want to strike out at them and they won't even know it.

I don't want to cause harm. To anyone.

I just need to get through it in one piece.

Fidget, boxing

Just look at the wonderful freebie pre-fab home that came (no further purchases required) with the new bathroom sink yesterday*.


*occupant not included

The evil behind a smile

From the Walmartmovie site

Everyone has seen Wal-Mart's lavish television commercials, but have you ever wondered why Wal-Mart spends so much money trying to convince you it cares about your family, your community, and even its own employees? What is it hiding?

WAL-MART: The High Cost of Low Price takes you behind the glitz and into the real lives of workers and their families, business owners and their communities, in an extraordinary journey that will challenge the way you think, feel... and shop.

If you live in the United States, please find a local screening in your neighborhood and ATTEND!

Outside of the United States? Not a problem.
Canadians can grimace along with us.

And even if you live elsewhere on the globe, you still might be able to share in our dismay.

So what are you waiting for?
GO!
GO!
GO!

golden garlic jelly

we stopped at the final booth this weekend at this season's outdoors Farmer's Market. I was occupied with hemming and hawing over the sweet dills or the regular dills. I asked the seller the difference ("sugar", he replied with a chuckle)

KD? She made a beeline for this beautiful garlic jelly, which she plans to enjoy with a dab of cream cheese on some good wheat crackers eventually. If I smile beatifically and use my very best manners I might be able to have a few nibbles also.

I pulled out cash to pay for our purchases and looked into the face of the gentleman selling the goods.

I said to him (mostly out of nowhere), 'Oosterwyk?!'
He looked at me with a confused smile. Was he supposed to know me?

"You were one of my high school teachers!" I gasped. It was only as I said it that I realized it. Isn't that strange how sometimes you can't even identify what is happening until you begin putting the words to it and then it all unravels, or re-winds, or whatever it needs to do to make sense again?

"Chemistry?"
"Yes. I did very poorly in your class. But it was certainly not for lack of trying on your part."

"The real zinger is seeing my old OLD students. They've grown up ... but I haven't!"

What a hoot. Twenty years ago he was teaching me chemistry; now he's using his chemical knowledge to make some beautiful jellies, preserves, and pickled goods.

Some days it's worth getting up just for the surprises that might happen.

a new reason to not sleep well

According to the Milwaukee Sentinel, this grandpa is now finding out how mean those money-grubbing movie moguls can be.

I imagine the poor fella is a good-hearted, hard working kinda guy. He doesn't know how to use a computer and is pleading ignorance as to how his then-12 year old grandson downloaded four movies, but gramps says that his grandson didn't know that downloading the movies was illegal and that once the four movies were downloaded out of curiosity, the 12 y/o deleted them from the computer and that was pretty much that.

Now enters the MPAA on their raggedy - uh, I mean their shining steeds, gold and gems glistening in the sunlight. Let's not slap granddad on the wrist, or have a Very Serious Conversation with the young lad, no. First, lets tell gramps that he can settle the issue by giving us ohhh, whaddayasayyyyyy $4,000. Yeah, that sounds good.

What?!
Grandpa doesn't HAVE four thousand dollars to wipe our sweaty palms with?
Harrumph. FINE.
We're taking our marbles and we're shuffling home to Hollywood, but not before we leave our bill for $600,000. Because ..... (whispering to co-steed-riders) 'why are we suing him for this much now?'
Oh yes! Because we can!

Now I can understand the effects of millions of folks playing on peer-to-peer file sharing programs. I've used them, in part to try to grok what the heck was such a draw to them. I found the couple I've tried very confusing and hard to manuever, which may be saying more about the antiquing of my brain than anything else. But for a megamillion industry to come after a retired grandpop who has no idea how to *work* a computer for the sins of a 12 year old? That steps right over the line from the sublime to the ridiculous.

Admittedly, I have a teen child of my own, one who I am aware has an Ipod full of tunes that he could not possibly have purchased out of his own pocket money. So chances are very good that he may possibly have looked into peer-to-peer file sharing at some point. Or it is also possible that his friends have loaded tunes onto his Ipod, who knows. In our home we've taken an unspoken 'don't ask, don't tell' policy. Today I emailed the article about grandpa and his 12 yr old grandson with the subject line 'LET'S NOT SEE THIS HAPPEN NEARBY, EH?!'. That's about as close we've come to an actual conversation.

No, wait. That's not exactly true.

I hollered down the stairs to him a few moments ago that whatever he might be doing online on his portion of our shared networked connection HAD to be stopped or paused or something because I could not access web sites and I would stop it myself in my own special way if I had to keep yelling.

There, that's closer to an actual conversation.

No?

Well, if he responded ('okayyyy.') would you count it as a conversation then?

The secrets we share

And, one that makes my heart ache:



the back side reads "I LOVE HER ANYWAYS".
From PostSecret

Fi'ty Qs

1. Your name spelled backwards.
- htebcm
2. Where were your parents born?
- m-in Iowa and d-in Wisconsin
3. What is the last thing you downloaded onto your computer?
- a plug-in for Photoshop (that didn't work, grr)
4. What's your favorite restaurant?
- I don't have a favorite. Lao Laan-Xang, I guess.
5. Last time you swam in a pool?
- It would have been this year because I know I've had my swimsuit packed several times but I'll be dipped if I can remember where I was.
6. Have you ever been in a school play?
- School and community theater, yes.
7. How many kids do you want?
- I got more than I expected and yet just enough: one beautiful weirdo manchild.
8. Type of music you dislike most?
- Ganstsa rap. Bleeahhhh.
9. Are you registered to vote?
- Yeppeedoo.
10. Do you have cable?
- Nope, I've never had cable. But if one of these questions was 'what do you not-so-secretly covet?' that would be the answer.
11. Have you ever ridden on a moped?
- Yes! What a riot that was!
12. Ever prank call anybody?
- Lots of times! My son doesn't like it when I make him do the dialing anymore though. (kidding. only a joke.)
13. Ever get a parking ticket?
- Sure enough, have two of them to be paid right this minute.
14. Would you go bungee jumping or sky diving?
- I'll probably do both eventually, but I'm guessing I'll enjoy the skydiving more.
15. Furthest place you ever traveled.
- Melbourne, Australia
16. Do you have a garden?
- Every year I plant annuals and cross my fingers for the perennials. And veggies and herbs too. Oh yes I do.
17. What's your favorite comic strip?
- I don't have a favorite. Oh wait, yes I do or at least as close as I come to having a favorite: 'Life in Hell'.
18. Do you really know all the words to your national anthem?
- Oh, say can you see that I really do know all the words? And I don't shoot for the high note at the end unless I'm fooling around.
19. Bath or Shower, morning or night?
- Showers during daytime hours, baths at night. Unusual for me to bathe daily, though. I think daily bathing is an unnecessary waste of water because I don't do that much stinking to require a daily wash.
20. Best movie you've seen in the past month?
- Wallace and Gromit: Curse of the Wererabbit (great grown-up humor)
21. Favorite pizza topping?
- oooooooo! Sauerkraut + canadian bacon
22. Chips or popcorn?
- Yes please.
23. What color lipstick do you usually wear?
- Currently either 'fig' or 'pomegranite' by Burt's Bees.
24. Have you ever smoked peanut shells?
- Was this an important step in every teen's emotional development?! Should I have smoked peanut shells? How exactly is this done?
25. Have you ever been in a beauty pageant?
- Uuh...yeah, right. Cos that'd happen.
26. Orange Juice or apple?
- Apple CIDER, please.
27. Who was the last person you went out to dinner with and where did you dine?
- KD and I had breakfast (not dinner) Sat. morning with a long-time friendly aquaintence of hers. As we were finishing our tasty meals, a stranger approached our table, asking 'Are you staying at the hotel?'. We looked at one another, shaking our heads 'no'. He handed us a certificate good for two free breakfasts (which, apparently, was one of the perks given to guests staying at the hotel which, apparently, he had been though for some unknown reason he wasn't able to use the several certificates he'd been holding). So three meals cost us $7. Yay.
28. Favorite type chocolate bar?
- Cowgirl Chocolates for the cayenne & frou-frou factor; Butterfinger for cheap n'fast.
29. When was the last time you voted at the polls?
- That would have been during the last local and presidential election.
30. Last time you ate a homegrown tomato?
- Last week. *burp*
31. Have you ever won a trophy?
- Several times, yes. 6th grade, for a book I wrote. In high school, the Optimist Club's 'Student of the Something or Other' award. Many medals for musical competitions past. Chronic silent overachieveritis. Don't worry, I've come a long way in super-underachieving where I once couldn't stand to look lazy. (hmm, the more I think about that, I don't exactly sound healed yet do I.)
32. Are you a good cook?
- While we might have to more narrowly define "good", I'd say yes. When I try.
33. Do you know how to pump your own gas?
- Oh for goddess sake, yes.
34. Ever order an article from an infomercial?
- You bet! The little steam cleaner thing and pilates DVDs. At 4:13am anything can start to sound absolutely necessary.
35. Sprite or 7-up?
- Sprite.
36. Have you ever had to wear a uniform to work?
- Yep, at the security job I worked and at Hardee's.
37. Last thing you bought at a pharmacy?
- Flashing LED bat pin, masks, superglue.
38. Ever throw up in public?
- Oh yes, much to everyone's dismay.
39. Would you prefer being a millionaire or finding true love?
- Well, let's see. First of all, I got the lovin' stuff so if this was real-time and reality-based decision making, I'd go for being a millionairess. Then I could proceed with the KD 'When I Win The Lottery' plan (plus or minus a few details of my own choosing - which I guess would make it the MCB. PLAN.)
However talking merely rhetoric here ... If someone external to me was offering me the choice of one or the other, I'd prefer to take the money off their hands. With someone wiser than myself to help me manage that concern, I wouldn't have to focus on the day-to-day financial matters and I could set about finding the true love on my own without an external presence offering it to me. And besides, if some stranger offers you either of those items you'd best take a look at the goods before you make a final decision anyway. Cash is cash but how could someone else possibly know what my true love would look like?
40. Do you believe in love at first sight?
- I do, yes.
41. Ever call a 1-900 number?
- I did. Thought for a spell about getting into the phone sex biz and spoke with one of the operators about it. (I decided not to, in the end)
42. Can ex's be friends?
- Given that one of mine IS, I'd say yes. We weren't very nice to one another during the first year or so post break-up, but eventually hurts were healed and we both found our ways beyond self-importance to embracing the other in a supportive way.
43. Who was the last person you visited in a hospital?
- My older sister, who just gave birth to a daughter.
44. Did you have a lot of hair when you were a baby?
- Not so much. I made up for that later in the time my sibs and I refer to as "the bad perm hair years".
45. What message is on your answering machine?
- "Hello. You've reached 123-4567. Nobody is able to take your call right now but if you'll leave your name, your number and a brief message we'll return your call as soon as we can. Thank you." I'm told that the most recent recording of this message could give the 'time & temperature' lady some stiff competition. Hee.
46. What's your all time favorite Saturday Night Live Character?
- Four-way tie: the "hot tub" intellectual lovahs, Colonel Angus, the Brothers Gibb and "can I pierce my ears pleassse Rick?" girl
47. What was the name of your first pet?
- 'Bulgy Eyes'. One of those black fish with - well, figure it out.
48. What is in your purse?
- a lipstick, my miniwallet, allergy eyedrops, the end of the Lifesavers roll, a receipt, a mouth insert (fits underneath the top row of teeth, flashes neon colors)
49. Favorite thing to do before bedtime?
- Sex. Or reading. Or cat snuggling. It depends.
50. What is one thing you are grateful for today?
- I'm grateful for having been reminded of some strange and unexpected things that have happened over the years. So much happens, so much rolls right on by. Its good to stop and re-remember. yeah.

tunnel vision

"People are capable of good and bad. As long as we continue perpetrating these absurd two-dimensional stories that everything is black and white - you're either good or bad - then the longer we'll misunderstand how many interesting stories you can tell in the space that exists between the two."
-Sam Mendes

You may call me Madame Highness

McBeth.

Of course these are mine and if I have to say this even one more time I think I'll faint. Fine. One last time: yes, they're compressed coal.

Let go of your skeptical, furrowed slitty-eyed ugliness. That look does not favor you.

I keep a red and blue velvet display case outside my home, lit by floodlights (specially ordered bulbs, naturally. The jewels can only be done fair justice to in the proper lighting). I post five very rough looking guards at all times of day to monitor the comings and goings of those who wish to gaze upon me and my gems.

Each day when it is postal delivery time I unlock the thirteen locks keeping my tiara safe. I have one of my henchpeople hold a mirror for me while I put on the earrings, the brooch, the necklace -- all my favorite sparkling baubles.

I walk to the cluster lockbox on the opposite side of the street waving to my townspeople and the grateful citizens who like to know where their taxes are going.

Elbow, elbow, wrist wrist wrist.

I have practiced this royal wave for many years - long before I was singing into the top of the Tickle deoderant container; I am adept and natural at looking as magnificent as my public expects me to appear.

Do not doubt for an instant that I have made note of your expression. Expect a visit from one of the henchpersons soon. We'll hastily remove the smirk from your face forthwith and forsooth.

yet another stray

McBeth.

On Monday of this week a small pack of neighborhood children rang my doorbell.
As in the case of the headbanging red-headed sparrow and the storm-tossed hatchlings, they'd found a stray and as per their usual, they bring the hurt/sick/lost creature to my doorstep because - well, because they can. And because they know I have the same soft spot in me to ensure that the critters get the care they need.

This time we didn't need the emergency vet clinic, thank goodness. This little black kitten was healthy and loud and looking lovely, all his claws and his dangly bits still attached. Strangely enough, he had a narrow white strip of fabric safety pinned around his neck, but no other ID. Rather than taking him to the Humane Society (which is part of the usual 'here's where the critter needs to be' song and dance), I made him comfy in the laundry-1/2bath downstairs, safely away from the three of our cats.

That first night he stayed with us J. took little black cat into his Den of Iniquity (aka the computer room) to hang out with him. Little black kitten hopped right up on J.'s lap and shoulders, purring happily without moving for four continuous hours until J. put him back in the bathroom.

The not-so-happy ending to the story: when I called the Humane Society in search of little black cat's owner's who I was just certain would be frantic to find him, I learned that nobody had called to report his disappearance.
That made my heart break just a little bit.

The much-happier ending to the story: J's friend, also a J-name, had been talking with his mother about getting a pet recently, and the timing of this lost kitty perfectly coincided with their decision-making process. They came to our house two days ago to meet little black cat. He climbed up on J's mother's chest and promptly purred himself to sleep.

Little black cat went home that night -to stay - with them. Yay. : )

bright eyes

The tomato from my garden may have bright eyes, but my own eyes don't feel very wide today. I putzed my way through both classes, barely staying awake through the Greek mythology stories that usually hold my attention so tightly that I usually find myself closing the notebook and putting away my pen wondering how the hour could possibly have already passed. My 35mm class is frustrating - I'm doing something wrong, somehow, somewhere. My negative strips aren't developing properly and I'm not sure if it's something I'm doing in my shooting or if it is something I'm doing during the development process.
We're supposed to be purposefully overdeveloping light-on-light photos that have been bracketed ... shouldn't be hard, but I can't seem to get it to work quite right. I'm hoping to get back out either later today or early tomorrow to find more light-on-light images to shoot (with a roll of 24 exposures it's a matter of finding 8 images, since 8 images x 3 bracketed shots = 24). Tomorrow afternoon I may leave early from my digital photo course to go spend some time in the darkroom. I'm not sure my digital instructor will be thrilled with that choice but I'm only going to get further behind in the 35mm class if I can't manage to properly shoot, develop and print at least one full roll of that light/light project, and THEN do the whole thing again using a dark-on-dark theme.

Sigh.


Meanwhile, I'll go on anthropomorphizing the owl eyed tomatoes I'm growing or what I should probably say is "did grow" since a hard frost fell with a thud last night, leaving very little left to bloom or flower for the remainder of 2005. Hoot hoot.

Drainage and haemorrhoea in need of a remedy

What I could read of the label:

Symptoms and Conditions for which Female Remedy is Recommended.
If you have chronic weakness, bearing down, or perversions incident to life-change.
If you have uterine catarrh, suppressed or painful periods or ovarian dropsy.
If you have suspicious growths, disposed to tumor or cancer, or hemmorhage.
If you have painful or irregular men{struation?}, haemorrhoea, or are unwell most of the time.
If you are suffering from retroversion or {something} of the womb, induration or enlargement , hyper{something}, ulceration or drainage, and the many unending evils that are present in {something} female complaints.

The Circle Game

And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We’re captive on the carousel of time
We can’t return we can only look behind
From where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game -Joni Mitchell


in the case of this particular carousel shot, there are no painted ponies; not a one. Lit with over 20,000 lights but no horses. There are all sorts of other oddities mounted on that profoundly large toy - allegedly the world's largest carousel, in fact. Unicorns and elephants and lions and mermaids and dragons and llama only knows what else, but no, no dappled geldings showing their frozen wooden teeth.

you ought to come visit the dairy state sometime; we'll hold your hand throughout the self-guided tour here at the House on the Rock, where you can walk for six hours through the spooky creative macabre collections of collections and then celebrate the completion at the confectioner's shop where they sell the best caramel apples (and taffy and fudge and mints and barks and and and...).

the weekend of many surprises

A first anniversary weekend away from everything at a near but far-enough-away-to-feel-like-far-away B&B, a trip to the very very strange House on the Rock, and just after the clock struck midnight between Friday and Saturday - Saturday being the actual real true 1st anniversary of 10/22/04 when we first met for a cup of coffee and parted 3 hours later - my girlfriend bent down onto one knee and offered me both a ring (this ring, the ring, such a pretty ring) and a proposal.

My response to her double-whammy was immediate amazed wordless stupefication, followed by giggling, which lasted until I finally squeaked out 'yes'.

I'm at a temporary loss for an explanation ~ why this positive plague of goodness gracing my life? I feel full and oddly (for me, oddly) optimistic.

licen(se)tiousness

Yes yes, I'll get to the story of the skunk that scared the bejezzus out of me (and likely I, she) as I stood outside in the nose-drippingly cool night earlier this evening while reading Blanche Passes Go (Barbara Neely) under the meager low-watt porchlight bulb. If it weren't for the fact that I was born into this world a jumper, already easily startled and long ago accustomed to eeps and acks and shrieks and starts of various strains well, I have new reason to be and yet one more reason to knock off the ole smoking wagon so I don't have to GO outside to light up and do my reading. But I digress.

But anyway.
Anyways.
Did you ever notice how some people say 'anyways'?
As in: 'We have 1 anyway + 1 anyway. How many do we get when we combine them?'

Two.
Anyways.

Good grief, that drives me bats.

Another thing I can hardly bear is to listen to people use incorrect grammar. Repeatedly use incorrect grammar, as though they're trying to push somebody - any one - until their buttons simply jam tight into nose bustin' position.

This comedian, he says with a poke in the air and an elbow nudge to the audience, he says ... my wife and I, he says. We have an open relationship. It's as open as the South Dakota plains, yessirreeebob. She's on the west side of the state open and waiting for me while I schtoink anyone displaying a vaginal opening here on the east side. Harharhar~

Ba dum bum!
tinny canned audience laughter follows

I like the comedian; he's got a generally funny routine and he's smart as hell. He can sit with each of the show hosts and chat without sounding like he's still got a cob up his ass. But cripes I have to admit that my imagination takes me places it ought not take me. I can't figure out if he is he making up that part of the schtick to get the laughs or if he's getting laughs at the expense of his marriage.

I guess famous dudes get all sorts of latitude that regular schmoes don't.
But what the hell is that about?! What, because someone has something I want means I get to fuck him and then! - somehow - I acquire his magical lucky charms? Whatever happened to the old-fashioned crush? Flames, remember them? When someone had charm and charisma and made you feel all gooey inside, back in the pterydactyl days, when holding hands, or pterydactyl wingclaws, was about all you could muster without bursting a blush out the tops of your earlobes?


I was once involved -'in a biblical way', as the kids say- with a married guy. Hooked up in South Bend, Indiana where an NFL charity event was taking place. I dragged a girlfriend along (and by that I mean female friend) since my Interest had a pal who also needed some cheering up. oh-Ho! Cheer them up we did.

Never mind getting used as a loaner fuck buddy to some retired NFL feller while his hotel roommate sat on the can taking a shit in their hotel bathroom with the door open, watching us in the mirror. And I can mostly forget about the things we did that caused me to bleed. The fact is, my Interest had a wife and kids at home.

Wife.
Kids.
Home.

I thought I was something special, oh yes I did.
Goddammit, I bled for him.
He was sharp and sly and he had such a sexy voice. I talked to him weekly, at least. If ever a wooer there was, he wooed with the best of them.
But even after that particularly strange weekend, the one I thought would be a changing event in some way, it just wasn't. He was still married, he still had a family and every single connection he had, legal and emotional and physical, was solidly to his own family, a place I came to understand that I clearly did not belong.

I found no solace in him or in my hopes of what might be if if if .... if maybe I just gave it a little more time.

I was an interloper.
I liked that for a while: I liked being bad, I liked being stealthy and young and sexy to someone I should not be involved with.

What I could not permit was, not unlike the comedic vaginal opening, I was a piece of tittilating female flesh - nothing more.
NOTHING more.

I may as well have been a squash sitting in the sun with a hole cut in it. And yes girls, the boys they do use veggies sometimes so don't go gettin' all oogie about it, just deal. That's life. It's nothing personal, just like fucking you and walking away with no sense of committment or future or --

see? it's easy.

It's easy, he says to the audience of canned meat on vacation from the midwest, seeing LA and cal-ih-forn-eye-ay for the first time, new babes not in the woods but out on the streets where they've never before been, that's what they are. Street meat. That's her. That was me.

It's easy to shut your eyes and pretend you don't have to wake up to see your own reflection in the morning. Just pretend you're not you, she's neither your wife nor herself. Pretend she's a squash! Harharhar.

Harharhar the canned meat laughs back.

All I can say is this: The price of my freedom was far less dear than the cost of my need for attachment.

*~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~*

Oh, and that picture up there? That's my brand spankin' new purse, if you can believe it. Made from two old license plates, it was oh yes it was. My sweetie knew I'd been creaming over several Very Expensive Handbags for sale at a local store that was closing a location. But lemmetellya, even at steep 'EVERYTHING MUST GO' discounts, those handbags with their felt storage bags were still huh-wayyyy out of this gal's price range. So I waited. and waited. And then I remembered another favorite shop that also sells adorableness and it so happened that K. had a coupon worth a great discount at that shop. I made a careful decision (advice: if you decide to get a license purse, be advised that the little oblong tictac looking sachels don't hold much more than maybe some $, a lipstick and keys. Pretty small.) and ordered the square. With the discount I could afford the purse.

Best of all, I can use my new handbag as a defensive tool when I walk in the dark cuz my-oh-my, it may be old and recycled but the reflector stuff on the plate still works!

LITTLEARTH makes some really great products so shimmy on over and take a gander or four. Their products are all recycled items; nobody had to sit in a sweat shop for low wages, no toddlers were put to work to make them, no new forestation was cut to make them ... just nifty new uses for old stuff.

And the canned meat rose and joined in, "Amen".

Manifest this.

Thanks to Capital B for living and breathing and sharing.
She's a rockin' chick with a proud pussy.

Manifest this motha fucka #1:
Every living thing comes from and returns to (get it?)

Manifest this Muddafucka #2:
Let Pussy speak to me through every living thing. As all creatures move and grow, let them bring forth the open ness and warm ness that flows in the energy of Pussy...the life force on which we all depend.

Manifest this Muthafucka #3:
I'm sick of my genitalia being used as an insult. Are you? It's time to let my labia rip and rearrange this. Here we go:
"That was so Pussy of you to help me move to my new place! Especially since I'm living on the 13th floor. You've really made this a Pussy move!"

Manifest this Motherfuckrr #4:
The power of Pussy could be blinding. Do not misinterpret its strength and fear it. Do not try to control it. It is light, rich and full of warmth. Use it wisely and with jeweled intentions.

Manifest this Muthefucka #5:
The Egg says, "Don't forget me, Muddafucka!"
The Egg must not be understated. Let the Egg be the symbol of all courage!
Here we go:
"Honey, that took Eggs for you to tell your customer off for not tipping you 20%!"
The Egg, like courage, is a delicate intricate shell surrounding ever-changing nutritious life!
Let the Egg be the teacher and the Pussy be its nest.

Manifest this Motherfuckrr #6:
Employ the Pussy!
*teacher
*whore
*philosopher
*president
Pay her well!

Manifest this Motherfuckrr #7:
The Pussy is a traveler! No matter where your Pussy energy leads you, let the Pussy be your clock.
Allow the 'ticking' to be measured by
gathered and dispersed
gathered and dispersed
gathered and dispersed
one should not outweigh the other...

Manifest this Mothafucker #8:
Let Pussy manifest and let freedom sing!

Hallelujah

I've heard there was a secret chord
That David played, and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
It goes like this
The fourth, the fifth
The minor fall, the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah

Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah

Your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you to a kitchen chair
She broke your throne, she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah

Maybe I have been here before
I know this room, I've walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew you
I've seen your flag on the marble arch
Love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah

There was a time you let me know
What's real and going on below
But now you never show it to me, do you?
And remember when I moved in you
The holy dark was moving too
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah

Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah

Maybe there's a God above
And all I ever learned from love
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you
And it's not a cry you can hear at night
It's not somebody who's seen the light
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

*the Rufus Wainwright version is.the.best.

I know what kind of love this is

I know what kind of love this is
After all, I was there when we made it
And I know why I did what I did
To end a lifetime of wallflower shade
With Buster Brown
The big man in the town
When no one was around

I know what kind of love this is
I know what kind of love this is
I know what kind of love this is

The man in black said, "You won't mind
It'll be over before you know it
You can pretend that you are blind
If it will help you to get over it"
In my parents' bed
Pretending I am dead
Remember every word he said

I know what kind of love this is
I know what kind of love this is
I know what kind of love this is

And when I wake he will be gone
And I won't see him until the classroom
It's just a tale of right and wrong
That they will whisper inside the bathroom
How she lost the game
She'll never be the same
He doesn't even know her name

I know what kind of love this is
I know what kind of love this is
I know what kind of love this is

(Dar Williams, Cry Cry Cry -1998)

One in a million

There is nothing wrong your vision.
Even if you are the only white pumpkin in a patch of orange,
you are fine.
you are good.
you are pumpkin
also.

Not the largest?
Not the fanciest?
Tough to carve?

So what.

From whom did you get the idea that you are supposed to be
something different
than exactly who you are?

Are you not truly you?
Can you value the stem you grew on?
Has the ground supported your growth and
has the rain fed you?

Do not fret for the orange you are not, little white.
You are perfectly created.
You are whole.

the stem of this meme: a heavenly sevenly.

Today's fun, a meme I'm borrowing from MercuryFern (and thank you Merc, for not tagging me, because that most definitely would have to go under 'things I can't do': respond appropriately and as though I'm in control of my alien brain when tagged with a pressure-drenched fun meme)

Seven things I plan to do before I die:
~travel internationally (again. more.)
~earn my college diploma
~write/photograph and publish a book
~own an unattached single-family home with a garage
~actively protest at least 25 reprehensible acts (does this count as 1?)
~forgive my mother
~get beyond the things from my past that won't change

Seven things I can do:
~map sore spots on people's backs using my hands, then mend.
~keep secrets
~make an out-of-this-world slow cooker chicken soup from scratch
~all of my own home improvement projects, so far.
~adore people with whom I disagree
~tie a cherry stem using only my tongue
~laugh so hard I either pee my pants or shoot something out my nose

Seven things I cannot do:
~run five miles without stopping
~multitask well unless manic
~stay on task with any project
~drive a motorcycle
~take the labels I made off the kitchen cabinets, even though they don't exactly describe the contents accurately anymore.
~be het
~keep up with house cleaning

Seven things I find attractive in others:
~dark humor
~forearms
~self-respect
~self-loathing
~potent sexuality
~a well-rounded belief system, regardless of absolute adherance
~their resistance against trying to save me, change me, make up my mind, fix me or otherwise act on a need to alter me in any way

Seven things I say most often:
~but why?
~this is another project I'm working on.
~because I asked you to.
~thank you
~"I'm a dirty hippie?" (sez my son, when asked what I say most often. Not true.)
~shit -or- damn (son and I aren't sure which I say more frequently)
~oojieboojiewoojie (to cats)

Seven celebrity crushes:
~Angelina Jolie
~Susan Werner
~Cap't. Jean-Luc Picard
~Robin Williams
~Juliette Marguiles
~Lyle Lovett
~Kate Winslett

Aerial Navigation

She thought it a good thing that there was still some practice time between now and All Hallows Eve since her skills had taken an unexpected downturn since last year's flight.

Amorous Elk

Fantastic tyrant of the amorous heart. How hard thy yoke, how cruel thy dart. Those escape your anger who refuse your sway, and those are punished most, who most obey.
-Matthew Prior

No thank you.

There are some people who consider a job related to matters of the heart and the of the psyche something they'd never in a million years want to try.

I happen not to be one of those people. I like the brain. I like the unpredictable nature of human beings. I favor matters of the heart.

But I'll tell you one thing ... the job you never need concern yourself with seeing me try to get? Dome walker.

Those little bug looking fellas up there in that picture were just hanging this side of living and breathing by one teeny rope yesterday morning. I was dropping KD off at her job after a reconnaissance mission to get her car dropped off/repaired/picked up and, because she works right up there near the capitol building, I noticed them dangling between life and death before kissing her off and wishing her a good day.

It made me wonder what those men (and, perhaps, women?) who tether themselves to little D-rings say to their loved ones in the morning before they head out to work to do who knows what. And what exactly DO they do up there? Dangle participles? Wave to passers-by? Wish they hadn't had so much orange juice with their breakfasts?

Watching them up there brought to mind one of a series of life-long nighmares that have followed me: The Falling. In this particular nighmare I fall. Fall and fall and tumble and roll and bounce off unseen hard things, spinning faster and harder and more out of control. I imagine that if a rope broke - okay, if the rope and the back up rope and the backup rope's backup rope broke -- well, the resulting fall from the top of the state capitol dome would effectively be my Falling Nightmare brought to life. And then fairly quickly, to death.

I would have like to have had the entire morning to snap shots of those guys up there with their fantastic view. I would have liked to have found a way to ask them questions, maybe by passenger pigeon or two-way radios or something. I'd ask them if they could tell how many fingers I was holding up, I would have asked if they could see that dorky guy in the suit and the too-tight tie coming up the block and if please please pleeeeeeeze they could shine a pocket mirror from up there into his eyes, just to confuse him and maybe make him think it was the beginning of the end of the world.

Yeah. Probably best nobody lets me up there where the view is spectacular. I'd never want to come down.

Mama and Scarlett

McBeth.

She's real.

She's real snuggly.

She's real pretty.

She's learning a variety of eating methods.

She smells good.

She cries very clearly.

Her parents swear the atoms they consist of will burst from amazement and from love.

I swear they are correct, and that they'll reassemble themselves, over and over and over.

Time Prioritization

"Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under the trees on a summer's day, listening to the murmur of water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is by no means a waste of time" -John Lubbock

Quiet, in black and white

"Remember the quiet wonders. The world has more need of them than it has for warriors."
-Charles de Lint

Welcome, little one

Scarlet Aurora, I'd like to be the first one to tell you in such a webly way that I'm awfully glad you're here.

I don't know what you look like yet. Your daddy tells me that you're pink and healthy and fat and absolutely lovely. I think that's a very good start for a seven pounder. I think that says great things for someone who begins her life at nineteen inches. When you're 14 you'll probably roll your eyes and get embarrassed that your papa ever called you fat, but trust me, this is something wonderful and by the way he says it he means to hold you fast forever.

He'll hold you so tightly in his heart - always, always. From that very first moment he saw you emerge from your mama to the last time his eyes will one day cast their final gaze upon you - he is your father, you see. He will be engulfed with fear and love like he's never ever ever known before. He'll scream at people to protect you. He'll threaten bodily injury to scary people to protect you. And trust me, he's neither a screamer nor a fighter, but he's a good and loving man and now he's your daddy so if he senses a threat against you he will do all he can to protect you, little cub.

You are his from now on, child.

And you don't know this yet, but you'll have years to come to understand it: you are blessed. You are so lucky! The people you will call 'mama' and 'papa' (though probably not in the order they'd like, and surely not as quickly as they'll long to hear it) have anticipated you. They've dreamed about you. They've hoped for you. They've cried for you to be here. Sometimes they felt scared and hopeless; they wondered if they would be able to create you, to make you, to carry you, to birth you. They weren't always sure that things were going according to plan. (Here's a little heads-up for you, little one: your parents, they're much calmer about letting things be what they are than am I. I fiddle with stuff because I get antsy but your mama and papa? They're usually very calm and 'oh, things are good and we're waiting to see how this will turn out'. You'll probably get used to it; it still mystifies me.)

And now you're here! Imagine that!
You're here!

I am not sure you'll like me. I like to burp. Farting is fun too. Tho' the more I think about it, you and I ... we may have quite a few things in common here at least for the first few years of your life. I'm a big fan of naps.

I hope I'll be comfortable for you to snuggle with. If I'm not, you can just give me a little yowl and I'll be glad to wriggle you around until we've found a more comfortable position. I'm not delicate and small like your mama; I hope that'll be okay with you. I'm rather softly padded. Your cousins seem to think its okay thus far. You can compare notes with them later. You'll probably want to meet them all first.

Oh, and your oldest cousin is very excited to meet you. He's 16 years old and though you probably won't be playing together in the traditional sense of the word, he's going to make a GREAT climbing tower for you. He lets Audrey and Charlie climb all over him already, so he'll be well practiced and nearly broken-in by the time you're ready to climb him. He runs your other cousins around and around in circles until they fall over in exhausted panting giggles, and even when he's pooped out, he still plays with them. Because good grown-ups do that. And, well, he's still in training himself, but I'm pretty sure he's going to be a good grown-up when he's all done being a kid. J. is a good cuddler with your baby Theo cousin too, so I'm betting he'll be very quiet and gentle with you when we meet you for the first time this weekend. He just folds Theo over his shoulder, right up there next to his next all safe and snuggly and they hang out together.

I bet you and J. will have some fab hangin' out time.

And one more thing: if you tell him any of your secrets, they'll be kept safe. I know this. He's a very good secret-keeper.

Scarlet, I'm glad you're here.
Thanks for being in my family.
xo

Love,
Auntie

Happy birthday, Sylvia

On the occasion of your 70th birthday, I'd like to offer my unending love and support in thanks for the safety net you provided to me by helping to connect me with others who experienced voices, visions and mood swings.

(and the next time you are in the midwestern U.S., please let's share a meal and conversation again)