Rhiannon's Poem

If you die, I will not dwell,
I'll send my angels straight to hell.
They'll find you with the demons there
and bring you up to heaven's air,

and they'll guard you then, you see,
to keep you for me saf-e-ly.
Then later, when I'm tucked in bed
I'll often think of what you said,

of how I'd cry myself to sleep--
Oh, I am certain I will weep.
But with whispers and with one last kiss
you'll tell me that I shouldn't miss

you, for you're waiting there for me;
and so all things end happily.

Bored/Blizzard

Don and I are back from an evening at Joe's of UpWords and T.V. I'm sick of going over there with Don to play UpWords and watch T.V. I'm bored to death of these evenings. Surreptitous smiles are okay but they aren't much. This whole thing is ridiculous. Here I am taking what little scraps I can get -- a smile here, an hour there. I hate it. It's pointless, it's stupid, it's not even a relationship.

We're digging out from the Blizzard of 2006, as they are calling it. God dumped a bunch of snow on us Wednesday. It's tons of fun to be out playing in it, not so much fun to drive in. Joe's van did fantastic. After they got home yesterday, the guys took me for a ride around the neighborhood in it. It blasted through the snow like a tank.

This is why I let myself love him

Another turning point; a fork stuck in the road. Time grabs you by the wrist; directs you where to go. So make the best of this test and don't ask why. It's not a question but a lesson learned in time. It's something unpredictable but in the end it's right. I hope you had the time of your life.

So take the photographs and still frames in your mind. Hang it on a shelf In good health and good time. Tattoos of memories and dead skin on trial. For what it's worth, it was worth all the while. -Green Day

At night I look up at the stars and I think about all they've seen, whirling away above our heads for thousands and thousands of years. Does it matter, stars, if one girl loves someone not her husband? I wouldn't have done it when the kids were small; I wouldn't have destroyed the family in that way. Don destroyed us but I kept us together. I love Joe because life is short. I love Joe because this love is worth this pain.

Roller Coaster Ride

Lunch at his shop today. Wonderful as usual. Culmination this time, though as usual it took some doing. I feel really full emotionally and it's kind of hard to talk about it, maybe because I've talked about it all so much already. I'm really up or I'm really down; it's a never-ending rollercoaster ride. An exciting rollercoaster ride, which I suppose is why I stay on.

I told him about Jamie flirting with me at the Christmas party. He admitted to jealousy. I told him about being worried I was pregnant. He said he'd be okay with a baby on the way. I'm happy with his responses. Maybe his heart is in it. Maybe he's coming around.

Conversation

He called. I answered. It was a very disappointing phone call. He didn't give me an opening to say my piece, which was "I'm going to do us both a favor and say no. It's been a lot of fun, but it's obvious that your heart just isn't in this." He did say that he couldn't talk to me about anything. I'm probably too naive and unsophisticated in the ways of the world. In other words, I don't know too much about society's dark underbelly -- drugs, cheap sex, fast thrills, what to say and what not to say about these things.

Period

It has come. Right on time. Exactly as scheduled. And what was so weird was that I was sure I was pregnant.

Unhappy

So Wednesday night, I met Don and Joe for UpWords at Joe's place. Don was in the easy chair when I arrived, Joe on the couch. I sat next to him on the couch. Shortly thereafter, when Don got up for a drink, Joe moved to the easy chair. He didn't even say anything. I was shocked and offended and furious. I didn't look at him the rest of visit. I'm still upset. Let's let this whole damn thing be over. Please.

Happy

I tend to mope around because I don't see or talk to Joe as much as I would like to. I decided I should mark on the calendar the times I do see him, because otherwise I forget, and I begin thinking I NEVER see him when actually I do. Turns out I've seen him a whole lot these last two weeks, many times with Don but plenty of times alone, too. So there, things aren't so bad.

I got to be with him for a couple hours Monday. He invited both of us over to watch the game. D was unable to go, being not at home, but said I could go over by myself, bless his trusting little heart. J and I didn't do anything too risky, just made out and talked and got to be together.

I dreamed last night I had a baby boy. He was tiny--I could hold him in one hand--and he had a cut on his temple. If I do have a child, which is doubtful, I would want it to be a boy and would want it to have his last name.

Lovely Weekend

Friday afternoon I went to his shop for some snuggle time. It was very cold so he hooked up a heater for the van then we got naked under a small soft blankie. No culmination as the little soldier no longer functions properly. Friday evening he came to dinner at our house then we went to his for TV and UpWords. I knit and play with the cat and glance at him surreptitously.

Saturday morning at 5:30 a.m. Rhiannon called from South Carolina. We got to talk for five minutes. It seems like a dream. She gets another five minute call at Christmas. D was out all day. I bustled about with domestic tasks then watched Tristan and Isolde by myself. Very much enjoyed it.

Sunday morning D and I met for our standing date in my bedroom. We had just finished when J and his little girl popped over to borrow milk. It was 9:30. "I thought you two were early risers," I heard him say. He invited us to breakfast at his place. Half an hour later we were chowing down on pancakes, sausages, eggs, juice and coffee. It was very cheery with the sunshine pouring in the window, the Disney channel on the TV and us grownups perusing the morning paper. When breakfast was all over, Lauren and I came to my house to play with my McDonald's Happy Meal Barbie set. In the afternoon I ice-skated. My skating continues to improve albeit slowly. In the evening D went to J's to watch the game. I apparently was not invited which is too bad because I had intended to turn down the invitation, as I was feeling jealous and grumpy, but you can't turn down an invitation that you don't receive. Instead, I worked on Kendall's Xmas present (a Gryffindor scarf), wrote to Rhiannon, visited with Michaela and with Kendall, who popped home to get the car. Kendall was sweet. She said she wished she could stay longer but had to go pick up her boyfriend. We hugged and said, "I love you" when she left.

I Miss My Mom

Spiritual Exercises

OceanGuru (who I think is very wise) writes:

Over the years I have found the following exercises to be most helpful:

1) spend ten minutes reliving the ten biggest winning moments in your past. Feel the 'WINNING FEELING" (Maxwell Maltz, PsychoCybernetics

2) Get quiet and think about how you'd feel if you KNEW with no doubt or fear that all your dreams were going to materialize and materialize sooner than you think. Hold that feeling for several minutes every day.

Ovulation Calendar

"You are ovulating between November 24, 2006 and November 26, 2006", says the Ovulation Calculator at womenshealth.gov. November 24 was the day we did it. That was careless of me. I won't be able to do a pregnancy test until a week after December 10, when my next period is due. If it's positive, then mid-February -- 12 weeks -- will be when we can actually talk about it to other people. Stay tuned.

I'm very happy. I'm very worried. And I feel like I've betrayed both Joe and Don.

I Continue In Love

And I always will. I can't stop! What follows is the shocking confession of a married woman about a man not her husband:

The day before Thanksgiving he took me up to Heil Ranch on his motorcycle. It's beautiful up there; we hiked around a bit; also squeezed in some cuddle time. After Thanksgiving dinner with my side of the family, Don and I popped over to Joe's with some Thanksgiving dinner for him. "You should call me tomorrow," I said softly when Don was in the other room. And he did! On Friday we spent several hours together at his place where we got naked, then had lunch and watched Jimmy Neutrino. Saturday night I popped over by myself while on the way back from visiting my daughter Kendall. We had some nice conversation and more making out. Sunday he brought his daughter over to our place and the three of us did puzzles. I spent the day in a happy daze, thinking about how nice it would be to pregnant. Sunday night Don and I went over to his place to watch James Bond and play UpWords. I won again! He was really sweet to me. So I've seen him every day for five days in a row. And it's still not enough. I want him always and everywhere.

I see now how a baby is an expression of love. I never really thought about it with Don. Our babies just happened along and I felt lucky that he tolerated them. It's not like we wanted to build a family as an expression of our love. That's how I feel about Joe, though. I want to have his baby and build a family together as an expression of our love.

Not that having a baby would make any sense. I'm almost 47, my girls are grown up, I've got a career which I want to keep, and I won't be able to stay home with the child. I'm sure there's tons more reasons, including not being married to the guy. But love doesn't make any sense, does it?

I invited him and his little girl over next weekend to make gingerbread houses for Christmas. They might let me come to Worlds of Wonder with them, too. So I have a nice weekend to look forward to. In the meantime, I'm going to concentrate on my work (become the best!) and my spiritual development (meditation, Science of Mind). I'm going to try to think about something besides his smile and his bright eyes every minute of every day the way I usually do.

Marie Antoinette

Went to see MA this weekend, having greatly anticipated it's release since summer. I was tremendously disappointed. It's boring as hell. Pretty to look at, but boring as hell. Several times during the show I was tempted to cut my losses and leave but convinced myself to stay because surely something was about to happen; surely a story would soon emerge from this jumble of random images. It never did.

The film is nothing more than a series of bright and colorful pictures from the life of Marie Antoinette. Oh sure, there was a little rumbling around the edges that things weren't so bright and happy in France but these issues were largely kept out of the movie. The unhappiness of their country scarcely touched them. There was no development of Marie's character, no in-depth look at what she was thinking or feeling. Surely she thought and felt something of depth over the course of her lifetime. The movie ends with the royal couple riding away in their coach. It looked to me like they got safely away. How can you end a movie about Marie Antoinette with her getting safely away?

I'm blogging this from my dashboard widget. So, he called, momentarily. I saw the caller ID, and as I pondered whether to answer, he apparently decided against it. I don't think I can stand by my promise to myself -- to never see or talk to him again.  

Betrayed Secrets

Last week I asked Tarot for a thought on the situation. I drew two cards, an adjective-noun pair. Three of swords - High Priestess said the Tarot: Betrayed Secrets. Uh oh.

I've decided not to go over to Joe's anymore. I can't stand all this endless up-and-down, does he like me/doesn't he, hot and cold that I've been going through. I want it to be over. I'm going to tell Don that I have a crush on Joe and because of that I don't want to see him anymore. That's as far as I'll go with betraying the secret.

I asked Tarot what it thought of my decision. Chariot-Five of Swords, it said. I've been puzzling the meaning. Victorius Conflict? Masculine Conflict, perhaps? That's certainly amusing but it won't stop me from doing what I've decided to do.

Gaining Forgiveness

One way I approach something like this when I am dealing with a person is - I imagine I'm at a beach on the ocean. The ocean waves are smoothly and peacefully coming in and flowing out. I imagine myself coming in from the right side of the picture along the beach. I guess you'd say, 'I enter from stage left' in theater vernacular.

I feel the sand on my bare feet as I slowly walk a ways along the beach with the ocean to my right. When I feel like it I sit down facing the ocean and watch the waves coming and going, easily and peacefully. I get myself in a very quiet and serene mood. Then I see the person I want to talk to coming toward me from my left. They come up to me and sit down to my left side, also facing the ocean.

I tell myself that this is my soul talking with the other person's soul. That we are talking soul to soul. After we are both sitting there for a few minutes and things are peaceful and quiet between us, I open up to the other soul. If I have offended that person, I apologize. If necessary, I explain my position to that other person and tell them why I was upset with them and/or why I did what I did and again apologize to them for offending them if necessary.

Now this is the important part. After I apologize and explain my position I SIT QUIETLY AND WAIT for their response. I DON'T PUT WORDS IN THEIR MOUTH. I WAIT FOR THEM TO SPEAK. Sometimes I hear what they have to say; sometimes not. Either way, I KNOW THAT WHAT I SAID WENT TO THEIR SOUL AND THEY HEARD WHAT I HAD TO SAY.

Sometimes we get into a discussion, sometimes not. But I never say anything for the other person -- I just listen.

After I have said all I needed to say and I feel as if the other soul has said what they have to say, we sit quietly there on the sand watching the ocean waves again.

Then I put a globe around the both of us. Usually a lightly colored golden globe. We are both inside that globe. Then I fill that globe with all the love, light, peace and serenity that I can. We'll sit in that globe filled with light and love until I feel inside that it is enough.

Then I imagine us both moving toward the ocean inside that globe. That globe floats on the ocean for a while and then sinks until we are completely surrounded by the ocean, which is God's Ocean of Love. I imagine the ocean getting a lighter and lighter color of blue until it turns into a white light and both our souls are bathed in that white
light.

When I feel it's time, I open my eyes and forget about it; let it go. I never speak to that person of this experience, but invariably, after a session like this, that person will respond in the outer world completely friendly and warmly towards me. Our dispute has been resolved.

Fullness

I feel so full of joy right now, for all kinds of reasons: because I get to see Joe tonight, because I'll have lunch with him next week, because I'm going to knit Kendall a Gryffindor scarf, because this weekend I am making a long black skirt and going iceskating, because I love playing UpWords, because I just had a hot chocolate, because I am learning the next level of CSS, because I meditate, because I love the Tao, because I have faith in God's universe and everything is going to be okay.

I'm Such a Liar

I could never let it be over. He calls; I come. And I think,"I get to have sex with Joe again!"

Postcard to Her Friend

What you wrote didn't ruin the card, I loved it.

I won't forget.

I loved your family. Heard you're going to Japan! That is awesome! Write me with the details?

Don't forget me.

(heart), Rhiannon

It Continues to Be Over

Don and I went over to Joe's to catch the end of the football game. I thought it would be a nice distraction for me, keeping my mind off Rhiannon's absence. And it was a nice distraction. We channel surfed and played UpWords. I had a good time. I'm so glad it's over, though. I don't want him to call me; I don't want to pick things back up; I want to let them lie peacefully where they are.

Parables

While at the bookstore, Rhiannon made up a little parable that ended, "The little piggie didn't know the dirt." She prompted me to make up one, too. Here's mine:

"They wandered through the bookstore, picking up this book and that, continually looking for the book that had the answers to their questions. They didn't know that only they could write that book."

Update

I've got four more days and three more nights with Rhiannon. She off with the Marines on Sunday night. She'll spend the night in Denver, then early Monday she ships out. Perhaps I'll go watch her swear in. What's weird is that I'm not upset just now. I'm happy. Is it because the meditation practice is working? Or is relaxation a side effect of the cough and cold pill I took this morning?

In other news, I have no desire to see or speak with Joe. None. After four years of obsessively thinking of him it's finally out of my system, driven out by the embarrassment and humiliation of not having my feelings returned.

I don't know where the future will take me, but it will probably be interesting, possibly even adventurous and exciting.

I'm Too Fat!!!!!

Bad news: I'm 6 pounds over my ideal weight. I tipped the scale at 129 pounds at the doctor's today. No wonder my jeans are all so uncomfortable! No wonder I only want to wear stretch pants! No wonder my butt isn't looking any smaller even though I'm working out almost every day! But now I'm getting serious. I'll drop 2 pounds a week for the next three weeks. You'll see. I'll be my old svelt self before you know it.

Valentine

Roses are #990000;
Violets are #0000FF.
All my base
Are belong to you.

The story of All Your Base
All Your Base movie

Today's Lesson: Want What You Have

"Once there was a way to get back homeward" began to play on the radio, and I became overwhelmed with feelings of loss and disappointment. How do you handle it when what you love is gone forever? What do you do when you can never go home? What if you can never get what you want?

I asked Rhiannon about this. She said to want something else. She should know. All her life she's wanted to be an astronaut. She's smart, she's motivated, she's lucky, and even though the competition is intense she could probably do it. She's also colorblind. When she found that out she had to let that dream go.

Here are the steps to learning to want what you have:

(1) Compassion: notice that others want basically the same things you do for the same reasons.
(2) Attention: be aware of what you are doing and feeling, and do it and feel it completely.
(3) Gratitude: practice being thankful for the incredible gifts you currently have.

Truthfulness

Generally I hide my true feelings. It's only anger and difficult situations that inspire me to truthfulness. Provoked by the disappointment with Joe, I had an authentic conversation with Don for once. It was really nice. We actually talked about how we feel about things and what we want in life and we ended up having a real nice day together.

It's Over

Thank God the drama has ended.

Here's what happened: I went over at lunch for some cuddle time. We got naked but he was unable to complete the act. Afterwards we lay in each others arms and talked. I cried a bit at his failing health. "I love you, you know," I said, and asked if he loved me. Pause. Uh oh. Turns out he is infatuated but doesn't have that depth of feeling. So there it is. I truly AM a slut for sleeping with a guy who doesn't love me, and he really IS just a player. No more, though. I can't whore myself out like that any more with a guy who doesn't love me. You know what's even worse? He probably feels sorry for me. Oh God, spare me from that man's pity.

Damn. It costs $200 to get that diaphragm and I haven't even used it.

I'm such an idiot. I ignored the basic advice: if a guy is crazy about you, he finds ways to see you. He calls you. He can't wait to see you again. He puts in the footwork. He works things out. These are basic fundamental rules of male behavior which Joe did not exhibit. I knew he was not working at this but I pushed ahead anyway. And here I am, finding out that the rules are right, the rules can be trusted. Guys don't change. If they love you, they do certain things; things that Joe did not do. I've no one to blame but myself in all this. He did not use me. I used myself. I am now totally embarrassed and ashamed of myself.

Damn. Now it's back to envying roadkill; back to learning to live without him; back to learning to make each day whole and complete in itself, without him.

My song now:
Love hurts, love scars,
Love wounds and mars
Any heart not tough or strong enough
To take a lot of pain, take a lot of pain
Love is like a cloud
It holds a lot of rain.

The meds have arrived!

Hooray, the meds have arrived! Diazepam is indicated for anxiety and sleeplessness, right? So I took one before I went to bed last night in leiu of a sleeping pill. Well, I still couldn't sleep but this time it didn't bother me. I was okay with having insomnia. I guess you can say the pill half worked.

Anti-Anxiety Meds

I ordered diazepam online. Man, I feel better already, just knowing they are on their way. $80 for 30 5-mg pills which I'll split in half, stretching them out for 60 days. That's a good long time and more than enough. I don't need them every day so these should last at least half a year.

Nothing

He didn't call for private time at all this past week. And yea, it hurts. I wish he wanted me. I wish he needed me. I had a lovely spiritual retreat however. I've begun a serious meditation practice as described in Full Catastrophe Living. I'm doing a body scan meditation every morning, breathing at night, and mindfulness all day. I've needed this for a while as my stress levels get pretty high sometimes due to the anxiety of Rhiannon leaving and the pain of piriformis syndrome. I learned an important lesson Saturday evening while Rhiannon and I were drinking chais at Borders Bookstore -- I realized that worry cuts you off from the happiness of the moment. I've been so upset about her going that I haven't been able to enjoy her presence. I stopped worrying immediately upon understanding that. I don't want to be miserable the last two weeks I have with her. I want to be happy. Can I transfer this lesson to my troubles with Joe? I'll try.

Update 1: Joe called while I was typing. We had a longish chatty pleasant conversation. He didn't ask to see me. He asked me to find size 1 swim fins online for his daughter. Nothing about our love or even our friendship. He's a player. He's just playing.

Update 2: I had a Monster Energy drink at lunch and I'm flying. I have a slight headache but the moodiness is gone. Maybe I don't need to see the doctor about that Valium after all. Maybe Monster Energy drinks are all I need. And they are a hellava lot cheaper than a $130 doctor's visit.

Don Suspects

He caught me in a lie, for one, so that wasn't good. I denied the whole thing. One of these days it's gonna blow up in my face. In our faces. Is that what we want? I feel sick.

Went swimming with Joe and his six-year-old daughter on Saturday morn. She had us play a game where Don and I were mer-husband and mer-wife and she was our mer-child. I was totally up for that. She's a perceptive little thing, Joe says. In the evening I went to Joe's alone as Don did not want to go. He was sulking, probably because he knows I prefer Joe to him. Joe and I watched Poseidon naked. Couldn't have done that with Don there. This morning I got fitted for a diaphragm. I think the Instead Softcup would work as well.

I'm not going to call him this week. I'm going to take a break. If he wants to see me he can call me. He might call our house to invite the two of us over in which case I won't go. This week it's private time or nothing.

Nice Things He's Said

• You are a fine looking woman
• You took my breath away when I first met you, and I thought, "I'm in trouble now."
• When you went by, I wanted to fall to my knees and worship.
• My feelings were so intense I couldn't even look at you, much less come and talk to you.

Problem Not Solved

A couple years ago, when we were first flirting with a relationship, I wanted him so badly that I couldn't sleep. I thought that if I got my arms around him the problem would go away. But now here we are, most definitely in a relationship, and it turns out that the days I get to hold him are the ones that l can't sleep. I lie awake all night thinking about all we've done. I hardly slept a wink last night.

I love his body and he loves mine.

Okay, It's Not Over

It is just really different than I expect. I'm over-reacting to perceived indifference.

I think.

Anyway, the most unexpected thing happened: he called up this morning to ask me out to lunch. Apparently he couldn't wait to see me. He said he missed me while I was gone. I went to his shop where we had a wonderful time being physical. I had expected it to be wonderful, but this was REALLY wonderful. And when Bee Gees 'How Deep is Your Love' came on the radio, he said it should be our song. In the evening I went to his place after working out. Again, more wonderful togetherness. I'm floating on a golden cloud.

I don't know what the future will bring. I don't want to think about it. The future scares me. From now on I'm going to try to live in just this moment, nothing else. And this moment I'm very very happy.

I want to stand with you on a mountain
I want to bathe with you in the sea
I want to lay like this forever
Until the sky falls down on me.

New York!

Rhiannon and I spent the last eight days in Manhattan. What a fantastic place! We stayed in a hostel on the Upper West Side and did all the touristy things -- Staten Island Ferry, Brooklyn Bridge, a Broadway play, Empire State Building, Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Rainbow Room, etc. etc. I didn't want to come home.

New Yorkers are all thin, as it turns out, and their dogs are all small. They live in tiny expensive apartments and spend most of the time walking about the city. There are people everywhere all the time. I loved Central Park and Times Square and the subway and the book stores and the street performers and so on and so on.

It was really hard at first. Our room was so tiny -- just a bunk bed, a dresser and a flickering florescent light. I thought I couldn't possible live there for eight days. I had a huge problem with anxiety at first, but once I learned how to live in the city it was great. I can't wait to go back.

Conversation

I know you're getting sick of this but I'm not so here's more. I kept all my questions and comments lighthearted.

C: So, I need to get that PostSecret book back from you some time.
J: Do you want to come here or get it at home?
C: Oh I don't care. Whichever. *pause* Is your secret that you want to break up with your friend's wife but don't know how to tell her?
J: No! (laughing)
C: Then why don't you call me?
J: I've been really busy. I've been slammed here at work
C: That's such a crappy excuse.
J: I hate the phone. I'm trying to get work done, and it's ringing.
C: Sucks to be you, huh?
J: Not really.
C: Sucks to be one person working alone in an auto shop.
J: Better than working with others, all that mental abuse.

A bit about Don and how he mistreated me at the shop, about how Joe hated to watch it.

He invited the two of us over tonight. I told him no, I was busy getting ready to go to New York for a week. Also could he keep David company, if it's not too weird to ask that. I told him about the nameless fear I had of going. He called it existential.

It was a pleasant conversation, and wonderful to talk to him as always. I think we're back to three-way visiting: Don, Joe and me.

Some Hours are Better than Others

I finally called Sunday evening. He didn't pick up so I left a short message. Now it's Tuesday and still nothing. Guess it's over for sure. I've been dumped. Yes, it hurts.

Here's the thought from Ernest Holmes Science of Mind that's getting me through: "Today is the only day in which we live. We have to live each day as though it were complete and perfect within itself. We have to live each day as though all the joy there is in the universe were ours now."

So I tell myself, "Today is whole and complete within itself." It's hard to imagine that a day can be whole and complete without him; sometimes I'm not sure I can be whole and complete without him. But the words slowly seep into my being. Maybe I'll be okay.

Still Nothing

It's now Friday afternoon. I haven't seen or heard from him since Monday, when I called to see if I could come over. Is it too much to ask that the guy I obsess about also obsess about me? Apparently it is. I can no longer ignore the fact that he doesn't care to see me or to hear my voice. *Sigh.* Well, the month of August was a wonderful month. I got to talk to him, and touch him, and be with him. I loved every minute.

Now it's back to my vow of March 4. No more thinking about Joe.

Qualms

So, Joe and I have begun an affair of sorts. Is it an affair if you aren't going all the way? It seems that the diabetes and smoking are taking their toll -- it's difficult for him to properly perform. Birth control is hardly necessary.

That doesn't bother me as much as the fact that I am the instigator of all our times together. If I don't ask to see him, I won't see him and the affair will fall flat on its face. I think about him but does he think about me? I can't tell.

He's dying, you know

He developed Type 1 diabetes six years ago. He's aging fast, he says. That's okay with me. I said back then that if I couldn't have all of him I'd take a part, and if I couldn't have him healthy I'd take him sick. I still mean it. But now that I have him, I realize how heartbreaking it is to take someone who is sick, someone who is dying before your eyes. I can do it; I want to do it, but I also want to know him while he's still well. I want to have memories of sailing and motorcyle riding and hiking and watching him fix things.

I'm in love with a wonderful guy

"I am in a conventional dither,
with a conventional star in my eye
if you'll excuse an expression I use
I'm in love with a wonderful guy!"

Well, we did it last night, though it took some doing. Today I'm wandering around in a golden haze, as I usually do after spending time with him. Today's worse than usual, though. I had thought that if I finally got my arms around him I'd be able to get some sleep. I wouldn't lay awake at night wanting him. So instead I lay awake thinking about every lovely moment, every word, every look. I don't think I slept last night at all. I don't want to forget any of it. And today I'm saying, "Thank you, God. Thank you, God. Thank you, God. "

I told him I couldn't live without him

But I bet he's gonna make me.

Motorcycle Ride

Went on that ride and it was heaven. I got to have my arms around him in a non-threatening situation which is exactly what I wanted. The most special moment – he put his hand on mine while it rested on his middle. I was really happy as we zoomed around the hills. Back at the shop, we talked. I told him about my feelings without using the word 'love'. We touched more intimately. I admit we probably went too far at that point. We'll have to back off there, but I hope I can still go on motorcycle rides with him.

I like you, you like me, you need touch, I want to give it. You have to stop thinking in terms of right and wrong and instead think in terms of love and respect. What will be the most loving and respectful solution for the three of us? What can we work out that we are both comfortable with?

Do I tell him I love him?

I've had the best time with him this week – had him over for dinner last weekend, talked on the phone a bit Tuesday (during which he invited me for a ride on his motorbike), dropped in to his place with Don for TV and games Wednesday night, had him over again this weekend for dinner and a movie, and on Sunday he brought his little girl over to play at our house. She and I had some private time which I really enjoyed. This weekend was really nice.

Saturday, we all three (Don, Joe and I) sat in our front room watching World's Fastest Indian, which Joe picked out 'cause he thought I'd like it. I looked at him thinking, I am so hot for you. Afterwards, we went outside to party a little. That's a euphemism for smoke some pot. This was only the fourth time I've ever had it. Neither guy had his pipe so Don very cleverly made one out of a pop can. Joe helped me as I have so little experience. He held the can for me, lit it, and clued me in as to inhaling.

You know what's really weird -- having Joe makes things better with me and Don. Partly because I'm happy; partly because I learn from Joe how to joke and tease, and I bring that into my relationship with Don. I'm hoping for that ride on the motorcycle this week. Do I tell him I love him?

Baby Present

I went shopping at lunch today for a present for Sarah's new baby. He's just a week old. I wasn't sure what to get the little guy. Clothes, toys, baby music, board books -- there are so many choices! And should I get him something he can use now or something he'll grow into? After all, there's lots of cool stuff out there that he can use later. So I got him a pack of cigarettes.

I'm kidding. I got him a bead and wire toy. And boy, is he ever cute. He's probably the most handsome baby I've ever seen.

Dream - House on Fire

I dreamed our house caught on fire. It was over by the dining room window where I have the candles. I first thought that the candles had started the fire, but soon saw that the fire had started inside the wall, not outside. I bashed a hole in the wall with hand-size hammers, Don filled the sink with water, and we used cups and bowls to splash water onto the fire. I got the sledge hammer and smashed a bigger hole, and we used the hose to totally drench it. We put the fire out before the fire department showed up. The fire had started down in the basement. That's where Michaela's room is. I could see the spot where it started. I continued to smash up the house with the sledge hammer, then I woke up.

Joe

I find myself in the unusual state of wanting to be worthy of him. I don't feel nearly pretty enough, or interesting enough, or bold enough, or anything enough.

Besides his bright eyes and 100-watt smile, I really like that we can communicate w/o words. We can use words and gestures sometimes, and that's enough. We understand.

Weird

The weirdest thing just happened -- my 16-year-old called just to talk! And not to ask me for money or a ride or to buy her something! She's upset about her ex-boyfriend and apparently needed to let off some steam about it. I'm totally flattered.

Fallen Hero/Fallen Soldier

On Monday, June 26, 2006, Staff Sgt. Raymond J. Plouhar, 30, died of injuries he suffered while conducting combat operations in Iraq’s volatile Anbar province. Thank you, SS Plouhar, for your sacrifice for the ideals of our country. May you rest in peace.

I'm So Ugly

I hate myself because I'm so ugly. My features aren't so bad but my skin quality is just awful. Every now and then I start to think I'm pretty, but then I see a photo of myself and I realize, 'No.' My love for my husband includes a certain amount of gratitude that he thinks I'm attractive; that he even loves me at all. How silly of me to even think someone else might want me! How silly of me to be all mopey about Joe. Like I'd ever stand a chance with him.

Here's What I Should Have Said

When I saw the candy and the coke:

Could I talk to you a minute? (they go outside)

"The complications of diabetes are really severe. I don't want you to go through all that. You're actually pretty important to me, and you have been for several years now. It's one of life's little ironies, I suppose, that you live on my street and my husband gets to be your friend, and all I get is look up at your window when I drive by. The universe mocks me. "

"Be that as it may, I still need to know that you are okay in there. I want you to be doing well. I want you to be around for a while. I don't want you to be killing yourself with this crap that you are eating. "

I didn't spill my guts like that, though I did take away his candy and his coke, and I said, "Candy bars? Coke? What are you thinking?"

My Lai Massacre

On March 16, 1968, a bunch of American soldiers wiped out hundred of villagers of Son My village. Old men, old women, young wives and children -- all killed. There was a huge outcry, of course, when it all came to light.

Do you ever think what would make a bunch of normal young guys snap like that? Most of our guys aren't crazy psychos.

Here's why -- because in Vietnam you couldn't tell who the enemy was. They looked just like civilians. They dressed just like civilians. After a day of shooting at American soldiers, they'd go home to their villages and pretend to be innocent bystanders. Those old men and old women, maybe they weren't carrying guns, but they knew where their rifle-carrying sons were, and as soon as our soldiers' backs were turned, they knew their boys would come out and kill them.

The same thing is going on in Iraq just now. Sometimes our guys snap and kill innocent civilians. But are they really that innocent? They know where the roadside bombs are planted. They know where the insurgents are. By not saying anything, they become complicent in the things that happen.

What if they tortured us like we torture them?

So, they found the bodies of our two soldiers, Pfc. Thomas Tucker and Pfc Kristian Menchaca. They had been tortured to death, mutilated so badly that it was impossible to visually ID them (probably while alive), and beheaded. I figured it would end this way. Probably the whole world did. But where's the global protest? Where's the outrage?

The things that our soldiers did to detainees at Abu Ghraib don't even come close to what the terrorists did to our guys. Yet THAT was all over the news for months. Thomas and Kristian experienced real torture. Real torture is the death of a thousand cuts. It's having your eyes gouged out, your tongue cut out, the bones of your fingers and hands broken one by one.

Wouldn't it be great if we'd found Thomas and Kristian alive, and they told us 'horror stories' of being made to crawl around naked on all fours, and being forced to stand on a box with a hood over their heads, and not having been allowed to attend church service or have spiritual reading material? Oh, the terrible atrocity of the insurgency, we'd say.

Those bastards. I want those guys taken down. I want us to pour our whole hearts into defeating them. Let the hammer strike, and let it strike hard.

A teenage snake

Yesterday Kendall rescued a snake from the little kitty. I hate the little kitty. She kills the wildlife in our garden. I'd rather have a snake than her. It's a small snake, but not as small as the baby one Little Kitty killed last year. It's like a teenage snake. I didn't let it go right away because it would just become a cat toy again. I built a lovely terrarium for it in the back yard from that large glass case out there. Lotsa dirt and plants. I bought live crickets for it, too. Today I went to Petco and bought a set of plastic nail caps. If I can get them glued on Little Kitty tonight, I'll let the snake go free.

It's Over Now

What do you do when what you love has gone? You had something once, something beautiful and wonderful, but it's gone now and will never return.

It must have been love, but its over now
It must have been good, but I lost it somehow
It must have been love but its over now
from the moment we touched till the time had run out

Like gray-haired Charles remembering Roxaboxen. Like me and Joe on the sailboat. Like my childhood, and my children's chidhood.

It must have been love, but it's over now
It was all that I wanted, now I'm living without
It must have been love, but it's over now
It's where the water flows, it's where the wind blows

Rhiannon has gone to Minnesota to be a camp counselor. In October she'll go to bootcamp, and sometime after that, to active duty. What if she never comes back? How can I live without her?

Here's some good news from Iraq

Reported by Scientific American:

"In the 1990s the Garden of Eden was destroyed. The fertile wetlands between the Tigris and Euphrates rivers were diked and drained, turning most of 15,000 square kilometers of marsh to desert. By the year 2000, less than 10 percent of that swampland--nearly twice as big as Florida's Everglades--remained. But reflooding of some areas since 2003 has produced what some scientists are calling the "miracle of the Mesopotamian marshes"--a return of plants, aquatic life and even rare birds to their ancestral home."

You can't tell from reading the piece who diked and drained the fertile wetlands, or what might have happened in 2003 that made their restoration possible. Weird. You'd think that would be important in understanding the whys and wherefores of land management and restoration in the area. Or is even Scientific American driven by political ideology, such that they can't even bring themselves to say the words?

Media is Naive and Gullible

Here's letter the OpinionJournal received from a U.S. military officer stationed in Iraq. He asked that his name be withheld.

*** QUOTE ***

I am currently stationed here in Iraq and have been here for the past 11 months; I am an adviser to the Iraqis and meet them on a daily basis. I have been in many locations in the country and am involved on a daily basis together with the Iraqis fighting the insurgency.

The media manipulation by the insurgents is brilliant and extremely effective. The press has become a puppet for the insurgents; the insurgents know exactly what they are doing with these "massacres" (quoted here because the investigation has not been completed, nor have any charges been filed) and the political nightmare they will cause the current administration. Bodies are produced for film, and there is zero fact-checking by the media--the media eat up this "news" like there is no tomorrow. A couple of hundred bucks paid by the insurgents to a few guys/ladies in the town where this "massacre" occurred to make up some bad news and pine for the BBC's or CBS's or whoever's cameras is a nice month's salary for many and money well spent by the insurgency.

All the Arabs (Sunni and Shia), Kurds and Chaldeans I have come to know well here will tell you that Arabs are emotional people who tend to exaggerate. A lot. Experience has shown that "50 insurgents hiding out in XX location" is five, at most 10. "Three hundred dead" at the morgue is at most 40. "A huge cache with WMD" is 45-50 weapons. It is a cultural norm and is accepted over here as a norm. It is reported in the West as fact. With no fact-checking.

When we convoy, all in the town/village know when and where there is a bomb/IED/VBIED that is targeting coalition forces. This is not so true in Baghdad, but in the outlying towns all know. What is the culpability for those people in the village/town? Would the Marines be guilty in the U.S. under the same circumstances?

I do not know whether or not the Marines are guilty. A Marine's job is to "close with and destroy the enemy by fire and maneuver," and I can guarantee its effectiveness. But the insurgents have the ear of the press. Hopefully the politics will be put aside for the investigation and the facts will be told, whatever they may be.

*** END QUOTE ***

Piriformis Syndrome - Oh the pain!

My piriformis syndrome / hip bursitis is getting better. Every week the distance I'm able to walk increases. Last weekend I worked in the yard for a couple hours! I feel so encouraged. Maybe sometime in the future I will actually be pain free.

Here's the story on this: Nine months ago I was doing calisthenics in front of the TV when something in my hip went 'pop'. Ever since then I've hurt. As the months went by the pain slowly increased and I became less and less able to get around. Finally my family insisted I see a doctor. The orthopedic surgeon I went to diagnosed piriformis syndrome and said physical therapy should give me 60 to 70% relief of symptoms so off I went. Twelve P/T sessions and over a thousand dollars later there was no improvement. The pain was as bad as ever. People told me that acupuncture often improved pain symptoms -- gets the body's chi in harmony and all that, so I gave that a try. I did four sessions and each one freaked me out. I can't stand the thought of all those needles stuck in me. It didn't hurt but it was really hard to just lie there like a sick porcupine unable to move. I maybe could have 'stuck it out' (hee hee) if it helped, but it didn't, so back to the orthopedic surgeon I went for a cortisone injection. No perceivable result from that either. I tried a Rolfing session. That felt wonderful while it was going on, but afterwards the pain was there just as bad as before. NSAIDs (like ibuprofen and acetominophen) worked just fine to control the pain and let me get some sleep, but I don't want to take those things long term. They are killers in the long term.

While doing research on this problem on the internet, I bumped into a reference to a book, 3 Minutes to a Pain Free Life. The commentator had had good results from the exercises prescribed within. I bought a used copy for five bucks on Amazon. Lo and behold, the exercises are working for me, too. Two exercises specifically are reliving my pain: 1) squatting with toes turned out and 2) the yoga position called The Cobra. I do these several times a day. The author suggests holding them for 30 seconds each, but I hold them for a minute or two. I can feel the muscles and tendons relaxing, stretching, and letting go.

Today's Adventures

Aren't much to write about. I popped in to Whole Foods at lunchtime for a few essentials, came away with a chocolate parfait -- creamy chocolate mouse layered with chocolate cake and berries. Not essential, and not at all conducive to maintaining my girlish figure, but oh so yummy.

I saw a disturbing video on Google Video today. It was of a freshly born baby girl lying naked in her hospital bassinette. She lay there uncovered, shivering, and all alone, while someone filmed her and voices echoed about her. She cried occasionally, and moved convulsively the way babies do, but no one picked her up or comforted her in any way. And all the while someone filmed her. I yelled at the screen, "She needs to be swaddled, you idiots! She needs to be held!" I felt sorry for the poor little thing. The description reads, "The firstborn child of Chris and Isabelle Burkholder demonstrates her newborn skillz as she clutches her blanket, cries out, gets quiet, and actually clasps her tiny hands as if to pray." She's probably praying to be delivered from such a cold, heartless and ignorant family!

Baby Driver

My daughter Michaela has finally got her permit. She drives to school almost every day, with me in the passenger seat yelling, "Oh my God! OH MY GOD!", clutching the hand rest, saying "Take turns at ten miles an hour -- TEN MILES AN HOUR FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE!!!!" and stomping stomping stomping the imaginary brake pedal. It's quite a good way to wake up in the morning -- gets the old adrenaline rushing.

The fewer, the prouder, the female Marines

Rhiannon did it. She signed with the Marines yesterday.

She's got a deferred deployment, as she was already committed to her summer job as a camp counselor at Camp Courage, a camp for disabled and terminally ill kids. She worked there last year, too.

So, her schedule from here on is:

1) next couple weeks: finish semester (mostly A's, I'm happy to report)
2) end of May: visit friends in Texas
3) summer: Camp Courage, Minnesota
4) September: New York with Mom for a send-off vacation
5) October: Marine Corp Recruit Depot, Parris Island, South Carolina!!!

Rice Krispie Treat

I had to dig something out of my very full trash can, so I borrowed my co-worker's so I'd have someplace to put my trash as I dug. He didn't have much in there, just a few napkins and a nice thick Rice Krispie treat, wrapped in Saran Wrap. I took it out and ate it.

No Miscarriage After All

Good news: Baby and mother fine so far. Placenta is blocking uterus, which in the long term is not good (can't go through labor with it like that) but there's a good chance the thing will migrate in the course of the pregnancy so all will be well. Mother reports that baby is now the size of a jumbo shrimp.

Possible Miscarriage

My sister just called, to inform me that our sister Ramona, who is 12 weeks pregnant, is experiencing bleeding. Ramona will go for an ultra sound today to see what's going on. They really want this baby.

Our smelly visitor

A good friend of my daughter's has been staying with us the past few days. She's a great person, but she smells. She smells like she's got a yeast infection. I'm glad I'm not the one spending lots of time with her.

I made a vow

I will not try to see Joe.
I will not go out of my way to see Joe.
I will not think about seeing Joe.

Today -- again -- he didn't come over to say hello. He walked right past. I don't know what it is going to take, girl, to convince you.

He forgets me.
He doesn't want to see me.
He doesn't want to talk to me.

Today, March 4, is my new anniversary.

Success

At age 04 success is ... not peeing in your pants.
At age 12 success is ... having friends.
At age 16 success is ... having a drivers license.
At age 35 success is ... having money.
At age 50 success is ... having money.
At age 70 success is ... having a drivers license.
At age 75 success is ... having friends.
At age 80 success is ... not peeing in your pants.

Who are you if you can't remember?

Michaela's 17-year-old boyfriend got a concussion while snowboarding on Monday. Monday night Russell was still having trouble with short-term memory. Michaela talked to him on the phone late, keeping him up 'cause he wasn't supposed to go to sleep yet. He couldn't remember past a minute. What if he never gets better? Would it still be Russell? I guess it would be, but it would be a Russell caught in a perpetual now, the eternal shining moment, nothing behind and maybe nothing ahead either. Never getting old, always 17. All there is is now. It's like achieving immortality. Who are we if we have no future to plan for, no past to warm us on bleak days? We could hardly even carry on a conversation. We'd be like the animals. Maybe it's our memories and our planning, our dreams and our regrets, that make us human.

Paleo Diet

This week I began the Paleo Diet. Luckily I've already been eating pretty healthfully so this new way isn't too much of a shock. I do love my muesli and milk and peanut butter, though, and will have to give that up. Basically, the diet calls for the elimination of grains, including whole grains, no legumes and no dairy either. This cuts out most Mexican, my favorite food genre. I'll eat lean meats and tons of fruits and veggies. When I'm hungry, I'll eat more veggies. I'll let you know how it goes.

My weight this morning was 120 lbs. It's been consistently low, I'm happy to say, hovering at 120 - 121 for the past week. Oddly though, my backside isn't slimming. Still got the same largish butt. Largish for my frame, anyway. Like most of us, I want a smaller behind. Because my weight is pretty low, I've decided not to cut calories any more and instead focus on my workouts. In January I started every-other-day weight lifting, and in mid-Feb added aerobics on the off days. My goal is stronger bones and toned muscles. Hopefully the effects will show within the next month.

My stuff

My photography
My tarot
My religious studies
My digital art
My drawing
My house
My cooking
My bodybuilding
My family
My friends
My SCA

Who would Jesus bomb?

I saw this question question on a bumper sticker today. A simple question, a simple answer, from simple-minded people. Jesus of course would bomb no one, so let's make the question a little tougher: Who would Jesus bomb if he knew someone is going to poison a schoolhouse full of kids? Anyone? No one? If no one, why not?

How many schoolhouses full of kids need to be on the hit list before Jesus will order out the bombers? There must be some number, some quantity of people whose deaths are just too many. Maybe it's not schoolhouses, maybe it's ports, or towers full of people, or whole cities. Would Jesus order the use of fatal force then? Surely there is a time when Jesus would use the power at his disposal in order to protect the people that are in his charge.

Or maybe not. He's God, after all, and we've seen God's modus operandi -- God just sits back and lets it happen. Personally I'd rather have a leader who was more pro-active.

FEMA wasted millions in Katrina aid

And still, everyone clamors to put them in charge of disasters. Ridiculous. What a fucking big screw up, and the governments of New Orleans and Louisiana are even worse.

Miserable

So, saw Joe at the Rec Center again, him swimming with his little girl, me working out. We waved at each other through the glass. He pointed me out to his daughter, and she waved too. In this way we pretend we are friends. I watched them swimming, smiling, having fun and was jealous jealous jealous. Last time I saw him I spoke to him too, and I spent the day being all warm and glowy with the after-effects. This time I didn't speak to him. These after-effects are sad and blue.

Life is only worth living when you love with all your heart

And from now on, I'll do my best to do that. My best moments in the past have been the one's when I loved immensely -- the people, the places, the things that I was doing. In the future, I will let that feeling flow and grow. I love this moment. I love these people. I love everything that I have.

Looking Forward to the Future

It's amazing how much cool stuff there is to look forward to. Lots of it falls under the category of Simple Pleasures, but occasionally something more exciting is thrown into the mix.

For me, there's Veronica Mars to watch tonight with the kids. The Olympics start this weekend. Tomorrow night is archery practice. I'm making valentines with my nieces Saturday afternoon, and chatting with the Joseph Campbell Mythology Group on Saturday night. I'll work on my photography this weekend, and maybe go ice skating too. Next week is the annual University Communications Chili Cookoff. (My chili won a prize last year!) Maybe I'll go to Borders with Rhiannon again on Friday. Plus there's cuddling time with my husband. This summer I'll go camping with the SCA, maybe work in a trip to Albuquerque and maybe a trip to somewhere else as well. Who knows, maybe I'll take sailing again. If Joe teaches, I will!

We Pawns

I bumped into the name of an old college friend of mine today. I was getting the School of Journalism newsletter onto the web, and there it was. Sheila. But is it really her? The woman's picture is only a little like the girl I remember. There was an email address. I wanted to contact her, to say, is it you? Are you the Sheila that went to Steamboat Springs with Daisy Trench? Do you remember the pics we took of each other by the auditorium?

I felt silly doing that, so I did something even sillier. I sent her a poem that she wrote long ago, and I asked: Sheila, is this your poem? If she recognizes it, that will prove it's her without me having to ask all these personal questions.

The poem is called 'We Pawns." She wrote it when someone broke her heart. She would never tell me who it was.

We Pawns
So what gives you the right?
Am I such a burden now?
To you, I guess I was just a bug on a pin.
A specimen for all your friends to examine
And exclaim "ooh" and "ah"
While looking at you enviously.

What gives you the right
To toy with my feelings, you fool?
Do you know, I really loved you?
I doubt you care -- not even
In the deepest corner of your heart.

Heart? Heart? Do you have a heart?
Or is it just a piece of data processing?
A little microfiche stamped "heart."
A miniaturized computer with tabs
That say "motives" and "drives."

You will never know how happy I was with you.
Did you ever guess that one night
I actually pinched my knee
Because I couldn't believe that it was you
Sitting across the table from me!

And that's not like me, either;
Usually, emotions are broken down
Into little components with "reason" and "judgment"
Imprinted on them.

But for this once, I decided
To dispense with the analysis of emotions.
Just experience them, maybe it will be better.
After all, emotions are not concrete.

For this, I was dealt a blow.
No return, only your greed.
Blind at the time, I fulfilled your need.
I guess I was just a pawn.

Well, we pawns have feelings too.
And believe me, it won't happen again.
Thanks for the scar on my heart
Which will prevent me from ever
Experiencing love as with you.

You took what you wanted and left me in the street to die;
And I did die, a thousand times,
As a friend joked that maybe
You'd given my bracelet to another girl.
That hurt! So bad, like a knife
Reopening a wound. My bracelet;
Why couldn't you have given it back, only two blocks away?
It won't fit you. It's made for a tiny wrist -- like mine.

On Death

I went to my dad's last night to help pay bills, as I've done every week without fail (practically) since Mom died five years ago. Dad's 70 now. His hair's been white for a while but suddenly last night, he looked old. Suddenly last night he looked like he might becoming frail. It was easy for me to imagine being at his funeral the way we'd been at Mom's.

He told me a story of a hawk that he saw catch a sparrow. The hawk perched on his back fence and ripped the sparrow to shreds. He said it was horrible to watch. I spent the evening thinking about how death stalks each one of us. It lurks right behind. We might die violently or gently, but we are gonna die. Remember that, and let it make each moment sweeter.

Welfare Sucks

Welfare sucks. It creates a bunch of worthless idiots. Case in point: the black welfare mom who chewed out New York City mayor John Lindsey: "I've got six kids and each one of them has a different daddy. It's my job to have kids, and your job, Mr. Mayor, to take care of them." What baloney! What arrogance! These people need their welfare checks stopped. I've worked hard to take care of my kids. Why do I have to pay for this kind of crap from her?

To Do Before I Die

Raise good kids -- and love the heck out of them
Play a team sport
Learn to play a musical instrument with some degree of skill
Learn a foreign language
Explore a foreign country
Learn to sail a sailboat
Ride horseback on the beach
Visit a real castle
Get published: book, article, or letter to the editor
Go cross country by bus
Go on a pilgrimage or vision quest
Dance! Learn a style and go several times, enough so you get good at it.
Learn NATO phonetic alphabet
Go caving
Take a road trip around the state, visiting all its interesting and unusual places
Swim in the ocean
Eat a fresh durien
Eat mangos fresh from the tree
Read a book that's considered influential
Go target shooting with guns or bows and arrows
Join a Living History group
Go skinnydipping
Roleplay
Teach a class
Get good at reading tarot cards
Memorize a poem (or several!)
Love someone even though it makes no sense
Ice skate on a river
Hold a butterfly
Hold a baby chick
Be present at a death
Plan a funeral
Join a community, any community, and work to make it work
Get banned from somewhere for improper behavior
Be the boss
Be in a play
Teach someone illiterate to read
Be able to entertain a group with a story
Visit a concentration camp
Attend a really huge rock concert
Be responsible for kids: babysitter, camp counselor, etc.
Visit the Panama Canal
Visit a rainforest (there's one in Oregon)
Go on a backpacking trip, 3-day minimum
Go camping
Go whitewater rafting
Ski or snowboard
Climb a mountain
Go to a Rainbow Gathering
Be there for a total eclipse of the sun
Take a ride down a subterranean river
Ride a mechanical bull
Be a nude model for an artist or drawing class
Visit New York City's library and Central Park
Go see Lady Diana Spencer's grave
Make a friend and sustain the friendship over many many years
Get a master's degree
Become really and truly myself
To Be Continued . . .

Melissa Plaut, New York Hack

I'm fascinated by bloggers who make the big time. Lots of us are. Bloggers are reality shows over the internet. We like to see how and what other people are doing.

So here's another one: New York Hack. I read about her in Yahoo News this morning. She's a cab driver in New York. Unlike myself, she posts her real name and pictures of herself on the site. It's kinda cool to see New York from a cab driver's perspective. She's down with the real people of the city. New York is such a fascinating place. So much hustle and bustle. Will Melissa Plaut get a book and T.V. show like Stephanie Klein did?

http://newyorkhack.blogspot.com/

Stephanie Klein: Another Blogger Makes Good

Stephanie Klein, Greek Tragedy. A voyeuristic peak into a chatty girl's life. She's become immensely popular, has a huge following. She's landed a book deal (Straight Up and Dirty) and I hear they are going to make a sitcom based on her story. Why she's so popular: her blog is a real life Sex and the City. She's young, she's pretty, she's chatty, she talks about everything (nothing is too sacred or personal to share), she blogs in the nude, she posts lots of pictures. She lets herself be known.

I don't do that. You don't know who I really am. It has to be that way. I'm a wife and mother of teens -- I can't be known! I post stuff here that's secret to myself. I don't mind letting you, gentle reader, know all. I've told you that I love someone else. But I can't have my husband or my kids finding out, now can I?

http://stephanieklein.blogs.com/

What a great weekend!

Friday Jan 27: Right after dinner, Rhiannon and I took off for Borders Bookstore. We love hanging there. We snag two comfy armchairs right next to each other, order up two hot drinks (usually chai) (a comment on their chai recipe: too much pepper), scour the store for interesting books then spend the rest of the evening reading. It's great. Right before we left, guess who called up? Joe. He wanted to come over and see Don, allegedly to show him the new interior he's put in his van, but I bet it was really 'cause he was out of pot and wanted to score some from my husband. I'm glad I wasn't there.

Saturday Jan 28: My birthday! To celebrate, I went shopping at Costco with the free pass they sent me in the mail. The included brochure neglected to mention that Costco only accepts cash, debit cards or American Express. I drove all the way out there, fond out my Visa card wasn't good enough, had to drive all the way back to my bank, then all the way back to Costco. I was pretty pissed but went to all that trouble because I had my heart set on shopping at Costco for my birthday. I bought a ton of stuff but don't think I'll get my own Costco card. I'll sponge off my Dad if I need to shop there again. After that, I took a friend and her kids to see Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, showing at a Cinema Savers near their house. The movie was much better the second time. I was able to see it as itself this time instead of constantly comparing it to the book like I did last time. I was even able to be less upset about Dumbledore. Emma Watson and Daniel Ratcliff are so cute! I love them both. Back at home, there was a present from Kendall waiting on my bed -- a little Faberge egg with a chocolate truffle inside. Don and Rhiannon made lemon poppyseed muffins, stuck them full of candles and sang me Happy Birthday. Don gave me a beautiful opal and white gold ring. I should stop being a bitch to him about what he cannot do (can't support the family, can't be a good dad) and just be nice about what he can. When the presents were opened, we settled down to watch "Sideways." I was amazed by the wine discussion. It illustrated to me once again the value of going deep within a subject, letting it move you and learning all about it. This mastery of subject is one of the things that makes life sparkle. I frequently spend Saturday evenings chatting with my buds at the Joseph Campbell Mythology Group. Couldn't today, though -- our router's down so I can't connect. A sad note: the Challenger disaster happened 20 years ago today.

Sunday Jan 29: Off to the gym for a session with the weights. I'm getting stronger, no doubt about it, but I'm not getting any slimmer. The waist and hips are just the same as when I started this program six weeks ago -- possibly because I'm having difficulty with the controlled caloric intake. I keep cheating. Afterwards I stopped at the cemetery to do some more comparison shots with different lenses. Then we were off to Dad's house for a family party. Ray, Maria and Tessa came with all their kids. The four of us had a rousing discussion about religion and morality. I say morality doesn't come from religion. They, being religious, have swallowed their church's teachings that sans God there is no morality. Fools. Don't they know that all, even sacred writings, even God, comes from within ourselves?

Goals for the New Year

Today's my birthday! As the clock of time ticks onward toward my death (a motivating thought) I ponder, what do I want to accomplish this coming year?

1) Master the art of conversation
2) Take good pictures
3) Become a good tarot reader
4) Increase web design skills
5) Pass Level 3 in ice skating
6) Get the ol' body in shape
7) Understand Ultimate Reality
8) Live by all of Charity's Laws

Rhiannon and the Army

Rhiannon, 20, has been toying with joining the military for more than a year now. She finds the thought of boot camp intriguing. Could she survive it? Dang that Rhiannon -- tell her about a challenge and of course she wants to try for herself. Plus there was that incident in AmeriCorps, when she so impressed her supervisors that one of them, an Army major, told her he'd write her a recommendation to West Point if she wanted to go there. She pondered that possibility for a while. It'd be great to get college free.

Now she's decided she wants to follow her love of languages and become a linguist. She's found that the Army runs a total language immersion college and she wants to go. The Army will pay for it all. She talked to a recruiter about it yesterday. (She expected them to be good at their jobs, she said, and boy where they ever. They made her feel very cared for. Of course, she's smart and funny with an hour-glass figure -- they probably couldn't help themselves.)

If she passes the linguist test, the odds are good that she'll sign on.

Dang.

I've been dreading this for years -- the day when she leaves for good. Being a camp counselor, joining AmeriCorps, running off with the Rainbow Family -- those were all temporary separations. Joining the Army is permanent. She'll be an adult when she gets out and she'll live somewhere else. I almost sank into depression but luckily my affirmations and the things I've learned in Religious Science came to my rescue. It's not bad that life changes. Even though Rhiannon's gone, things will continue to be bright. And interesting. And even exciting. Heck, it could be a good thing for all of us.

Michael Moore and his PhotoShopping ways

On MM's web site today, (www.michaelmoore.com) there are pics of Chris Matthews and Osama bin Laden, apparently the best of friends.

The pictures are both funny as heck and tremendously ironic.

They are a fantastic illustration of the way Michael Moore makes his movies. With these Matthews/bin Laden pictures, Moore took real photos, cut them up, pasted them together and ended up with a lie -- something fake made of something that originally was real.

In the same way, when he makes his movies he takes real video footage and interviews, cuts them up, pastes them together, and ends up with something that looks real but actually never happened -- a lie PhotoShopped from bits of truth.

Valentines

On Sunday, I packed up all my valentine fixings and went to my sister's to watch the game and make valentines with the kids. Tessa's troops (She's got ten. Really.) are always so excited when I show up. They run around like crazy yelling, "Aunt Daisy's here! Aunt Daisy's here!" Then, all talking at once, they tell me their news du jour. It's great for the self-esteem.

Well, I haven't made valentines since my daughter Michaela was in elementary school. We set up in the dining room and I set to, cranking out one work of art after another. I listened to the game with one ear (our team lost) but mostly I focused on valentines. I was a valentine-making dynamo. Doilies and hearts and glue and glitter everywhere. I left them all there, drying in rows on the piano. They were for the kids, not me. I can't wait to do it again.

Lace and Flowers

Today a co-worker told me she saw a blouse at an upscale department store that totally reminded her of me; said it would be perfect for me. It was all antique lace and flowers, with flowy sleeves and an old-fashioned bodice. Sounds lovely, yes? But this is exactly why I never wear that style -- because people think I'm lace and flowers even though I wear sports jackets over jeans and a t-shirt. I like to be feminine and graceful. As a matter of fact I make it a point to be. People are always so surprised when they find out I can shoot a rifle and ride a horse, but don't know anything about growing roses. They think I'm so delicate and girly. If I wore lace and flowers, I'd be a ridiculous caricature of myself.

The Power of Affirmations

I've been doing affirmations for a month or so now. The ones that have really worked for me so far are:

"I am beautiful." It's amazing how quickly this one has worked! Yea, I still have my same face, but I FEEL beautiful now. And people look at me like I am.

"I have many friends of all ages." This one has helped me to being open to all ages of people. Yes, I can be friends with people who aren't my age.

"There is abundant love for me in the universe." I just started this one. Two days ago I went to a cooking class full of people I don't know. I said this to myself whenever I felt the fear arise, and I was able to be open and friendly, instead of my usual scairdy-cat shyness. The others responded to me in a positive way. It was wonderful!

Don't Look Back

Make a decision then go forward. Do the best you can and don't look back. You can't live your life with regrets.

I say this to encourage myself to live this way. Sometimes it seems that all I've ever done is live my life with regrets. It's not working for me. I have to accept that I didn't say what I didn't say. I didn't do what I didn't do. Why look back now and wish I'd done different? It's all water under the bridge, as they say. I can only go forward from where I am.

Anniversary

I was cleaning out my closet and came upon Mom's old purse, the one she took to the hospital the day before she died. I keep thinking I'll give the purse to the Salvation Army but I never do. I keep it to remember what it was like to be at the hospital. I stayed awake all night with her in intensive care. My siblings had planned to, but when they fell asleep I didn't wake them up. My wakefulness was a gift I gave her. She died in the morning, and after an hour or so of grief and shock, we took her stuff and went home.

There is absolutely nothing like taking someone to the hospital and leaving next day with a bag of their stuff. I can't even describe it.

Mom died five years ago this month. Dad still takes it pretty hard.

If Only

Here's how I feel about Joe:

No matter if the sun don't shine
Or if the skies are blue
No matter what the end is
My life began with you.

From No Matter What by Boyzone

I'm Discouraged Today

I'm discouraged because I can't keep my body as beautiful as when I was younger -- I'm skinny all over except for my waist and hips. I'm discouraged because Joe loves me and I love him but we'll never be together. Because my kids are teens and I don't know how to parent them anymore. Because I can't really talk to my husband. Because I'm shy and scared of people and can't stop.

But you know what? Kendall gave me a floating orchid candle for my bath yesterday. She thought of me and bought me something. I'll think of that and be happy.

Why are poor people so fucking fat?

Who is paying for the huge quantities of food that they are consuming? It takes some doing to hit 250, but they are doing it. They can't stop shoveling food into their mouths.

Type 2 Diabetics are Idiots

The New York Times is running a series on the country's diabetes 'epidemic' as though it were a real disease. It's a sickness caused entirely by the individual's behavior, and these people are idiots. Here are some quotes from people afflicted with the condition:

Mr. De La Vega nodded. "We love eating trash," he said. "We grew up eating McDonald's, and I still find myself eating candy and chocolate cake." People got huffy about their doctors. "Mine tells me, 'Lose weight, exercise more,' " Ms. Matos said. "Let him live my life and see." Mr. Rivera said: "You know what I think? I think there's a cure. We're the poor, so they don't want to give it to us." "Listen, if I want to eat a piece of cake, I'm going to eat it," Elsie Matos said. "No doctor can tell me what to eat. I'm going to eat it, because I'm hungry. We got too much to worry about. We got to worry about tomorrow. We got to worry about the rent. We got to worry about our jobs. I'm not going to worry about a piece of cake."

Why not stop with the doughnuts and fried calories and eat salads, drink diet soda?

James De La Vega laughed. "We've got cultural differences," he said. "Here, for a guy to eat a salad, he's a wimp. He'll eat a big portion of rice and beans and chicken. The women can't be chumps, either. A woman can eat a salad but has to eat it on the low. She has to do it quiet. They make fun of you: What are you, a rabbit?" Mr. De La Vega said: "Nobody here goes out and gets an apple. They get cake. People here associate diet as unhealthy. If you're dieting, then you're sick. You look at the people on the streets, they're heavy. That's the way we grow up here."

Me again: These people are idiots. Why should I pay for their health care? I'll only agree to that if I can dictate their diet and lifestyle.

Dreams

I went to bed late last night, slept soundly, dreamed good dreams of visiting with my sister then woke suddenly before the alarm, filled with dread, as though there were something important I had not done, or some important decision I had made wrong.

More sleep, more dreams, these ones of driving with Joe in his van, then stopping to make out in a tangle of arms and legs and blankets. Joe had the face of my husband, though.

FanFic Parody

A friend wrote this mockery of fan fic, to make fun of the idiots she runs into.

Starbringer59: i am liek hawt n standin in teh gardnn. hello i sayz ur hawt leggy wanna cybre plzkthx.
Mississippienne: Then Legolas slaps her, once and very hard. Then he walks away.
Starbringer59: leggy slpas me n i m rely sade n start cryin leggy why u slaped me n he cums back n hugs me n crys im so sorrie plz forgv me n i do.
Starbringer59: than leggy n i get maried n gangulf n teh elf kinge (sorre i forgit hiz nam) cum n tehy mak us teh king n quenn off teh hol midle earht.
Starbringer59: leggy n i rul good ovre teh land n we hav mane kidz. i have triplts harry pottre hermone potter n giny poter, n tehy grow up n nede r help 2 fite teh dark lorde voldimort n we fite him until he diez.
Starbringer59: kan u rate my fanfic?! plzkthx but dont rate if ur gona say bad stuf cuz ill droun my kiten iff u do.

Oh the Pain

Woke up this morning with muscles aching from my workout yesterday. I'm in week three of the Six-Week Fat to Muscle Makeover. (See book of that name on Amazon.) Week three adds a couple more weight routines. It's the arm one that killing me, weakling that I am.

The program is working great so far. I've been able to increase the weights almost every time I go, and even though I've cheated on the prescribed diet, I've lost four pounds. I'm back in my regular jeans (hooray!) and by the time I'm done I'll be back in my skinny jeans.

I saw a lady at the gym yesterday whose body was a bad example, a terrible warning of what my body could become -- is becoming -- if I don't get in shape. She was slender all over and even had a lovely small waist, but her ass was massive. It was completely out of proportion to the rest of her. She probably has a desk job just like I do. She sits all day, like I do, and any extra calories go straight to her hips.

The Julie/Julia Project

Julie Powell. A blogger has hit the big time. Totally cool and good for her! Her story: shel felt stuck in a nothing job with a life going nowhere, so she started cooking. She set herself the task of working through Julia Child's "The Art of French Cooking" in one year. That means she's making two or more recipes a day. That's a lot of kitchen time. She blogged about it, talked abou what it was like to kill a lobster and search for unusual ingredients. A loyal readership gathered round who encouraged her, bought her groceries, didn't let her give up. The story ended happily with a new book ("Julie and Julia") and a new career for her (she's now a food writer for I-don't-know-who). I'm proud of her.

The Julie/Julia Project

Hope

I'm not sure if my hope will ever see the blog.
But just knowing that it is out there makes me happy.
Someone read it on it's journey, someone saw.