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)