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Showing posts from July, 2011

Lightening the load.

My lovin' man is being mean to me as he packs. I have already packed my suitcase and need only add the last minute items at the last minute, carefully, to a large back pack owned by a large man child. I also require a messenger bag to include travel info, contact case, various medication, sun glasses, a Nook charger, etc. but he is refusing to carry either of these onboard as his allowed second bag demanding that I consolidate my two bags into one. This is not right.

I am generally a light packer. I don't fuss. However, we are attending an event which requires two outfits a day. Plus a flat iron because it's that kinda party. I have plotted and planned for weeks, streamlining for days. He, on the other hand, has not. Procrastination. This seems reason enough for me to be the deserving recipient of the Extra Bag.

I even offered to share my oversized backpack. There's plenty of room for his softs and wouldn't that be simple? Stubbornly refusing to recognize my specia…


Try as I might, I just can't stay aggravated with Sugarman. He rejects my affections until he has need of me. He primarily wants to be fed and to be let out. He fraternizes with dogs, naps under cars and hangs out on the front porch with slugs. How can he prefer a slug's company over mine? He chases leaves and beats up trees.

When he slinks into my lap, sleepy eyed and temporarily vulnerable, I happily oblige him. I try very hard to pet him just so. So he will stay. I'm a cat lady. However, Sugarman grew up and he's forgotten how he slept curled around my neck. He's forgotten how lovin' we were. It's mean and ugly, the way he forgets.

But, when I see him doing his Sugarman things, in his Sugarman ways, all is forgiven. Because the prince is good for lookin' at. The handsomest boy around can't be all bad.

He's just no good for training.

Never can tell.

Enthusiastic, fresh and a head full of schemes, I embark on an adventure to train, teach and embrace a movement. Home is where my heart is so I gather the chicks close and we nest contentedly.

Once upon a time, there are bitty desks and books and shelves committed to one, two, three little boys. Grade appropriate posters spread proudly. ABCs and 123s. Phonics and number lines. Fuzzy forest animals. Please come correct into this place because anything less is unacceptable. We read and play and make and take pictures.

Fast forward six weeks and forest friends have been mishandled. The shiny, new books have curling edges. Only one desk is intact. We regroup and reignite and relocate to the picnic table that serves for indoor meals.

Six years in, we recline together on the couch and coax one another into ancient history and English literature. They fight. I fuss. They dawdle. I rage. We give up and go away 10 times a day.

When the smoke gets too thick, I attempt clearing with a frenzi…

Wordless Wednesday: Feeding the Beast.

Makes no difference who you are.

Lou Mongello, Matt Hochberg, Len Testa. These people will distort my perspective and feed my obsessions. They will separate the layers and illuminate the most trivial of details. Make me believe in the validity of a fantasy.

If I listen closely and often, I am convinced by grown men that my 40 years are incomplete as I have not experienced the chocolate chip cookie ice cream sandwich at the Main Street Bakery. Or gunned down a glowing intergalactic being with my own laser? And how can I not drop everything to see the treasure room in Injun Joe's cave? One more day without experiencing the multisensory delight of a virtual ride over the west coast including the scent of fresh oranges becomes unacceptable.

While my Walt Disney World obsession didn't originate with podcasting Radicals, I hold them responsible for accelerating, facilitating and encouraging. Now I gotta do it again.

It is not a park but a stage. It is not a ride but a show. It is not a theme but a delicately nurtu…

No, they can't take that away from me.

This spring, on a visit to Laura Ingalls Wilder's home, I was silly with emotion from beginning to end. To be fair, I spent countless girlhood days reading, watching and contemplating the prairies and big woods and farmer boys prior to my miniature breakdown.

Starting in the Wilder's kitchen, every little thing was custom built by Almanzo. Petite versions of cabinets, window nooks, tables and chairs. Almanzo built to accommodate his petite Laura. Almanzo engineered hot water for his Laura inside their bitty kitchen. His elaborately clever system took months to perfect but would prevent endless trips to the water supply outdoors. Our guide was quick to point out that Laura protested over all the bother. She didn't mind so much. The extra work. Almanzo was a Good One, determined to ease her burden. Loving men inspire unrelenting tears in a little house full of strangers.

Man Child: Mom, if you need to drive to Texas I will go with you. I don't want you to go alone.

Who's bad?

• Over the four days of raw dieting, I cheated every day but the first. (But only with a little chocolate. It had to be done.)

• I've given up on Giving Up caffeine after having a massive migraine the day after not cheating.

• I'm too lazy to add the gift card I received to my Nook because I forget that I have to do it on the computer and I'm already on my Nook so I just keep on downloading samples and reading them instead.

• I purposed to have an older Nook because I knew laziness would take over if I had the fancy new one and no reading, only facebooking, would be accomplished.

• I don't remember how to delete samples from my Nook and I'm too lazy to figure it out.

• Because of not being that good of a person, laziness seems to be a constant struggle.

• And chocolate.

Then we sang about the lovin' things.

Entering Day 2 of my raw diet, I only cheated the tiniest bit by having piece of whole wheat toast with my peanut butter and honey. Otherwise being satisfied with salad recipes that include nuts and beans, I am not hungry. A headache creeps around behind my eyes. Maybe the sun. Probably a result of caffeine withdrawal. I could really enjoy a treat if not for the voluntary restrictions placed upon myself.

Following rules is not my favorite. I prefer to set my own and comply with myself. Being not that good of a person includes the sweetness of a Clementine and the bitterness of kale. The kale requires some work as you remove the stems. And, of course, the Clementine needs peeling but with a red bell to add color and a spicy onion, there's a reward to gain. Cabbage gives the interesting texture craved. A peculiar blend of dijon, balsamic vinegar and fruit juice livens up the place. Just for fun, embody the whole dish with a handful of crunchy nuts.

Contentment comes in all kinds o…

Wordless Wednesday: Raw Diet

If the sun should tumble from the sky.

Lovin' Man, a radical vegetarian in his former life, is unhappy this day. There is no more heavy whipping cream or lovely grilled croutons. He longs for beefy stir frys and olive oil drenched chicken with mash. Bacon is out.

In an effort to confound my body and determine the cause of certain ailments, I have taken to eating a raw diet. Not permanently, of course, but you wouldn't know that from the look on their faces. Apparently, I have insulted most of my family by insisting that salad, deliciously hearty with cannelini beans, is an appropriate main course. Likewise, fresh pineapple spears are not a worthy dessert for a house full of chocophiles. Deplorable, to be sure.

"Where's the meat?" "I'll just have corn." "How about we go out to eat?" "Mom, what's your favorite food besides salad?" "Somewhere along the way, I became a man."

Truth be told, all commentary may or may not have been mild as I had no caffeine to…

"It's called a Time Turner, Harry."

My old job entailed answering upwards of 50 questions a day. What's that for? Why do I have to? Why do you have to? How did that get here? When will this happen? Can I? Will you? Why not? Why, why, why?

And listening. What if the lamp fell off the table and we didn't have any lights and you couldn't see to make lunch and then we couldn't eat or make cookies or have fun and then we went outside and what if the baby ran away and we lost him and would we call the police and would they turn on their blue lights and what if they thought we were bad guys and took us to jail and oh, it's time to eat and these questions don'treallyrequireanswersonly patience.

Patience requirements shift to Them as they learn to be patient with me as I learn to stop answering my own questions out loud. They don't like that. They want to do it themselves in spite of all I know which is less today than yesterday. A young man learns to displace or he will belong to his mother forever…

As I lay dying.

The raw skin remaining from Ernest Hemingway's adjective shaving makes me wince. Contrastly, I'm neither a fan of the painstakingly detailed journalism of chair making by Defoe's Crusoe.

Skip the nihilism of The Stranger or even King Lear and let's have a onehitwhoneedsanother Wonder like To Kill A Mockingbird. In the epitome of the Southern Gothic, Scout's honor reaches high.

Or the inspiring humanity of Alan Paton. Cry the Beloved Country invokes melodies and tranquilities on a turbulent canvas. Or The Good Earth quenches a dusty thirst with Buck's satisfying rhythm. Tasty and succinct.

Oprah cannot plunder the essence of Their Eyes Were Watching God. It's a soulful, albeit tragic, fine romance. Dickens offerings of A Tale of Two Cities and Oliver Twist compel wonder. Comic genius and social commentator.

Larry McMurtry spins a western epic with craggy heros and brittle heroines. Khaled Hosseini solves the absurd perplexity of hopelessness.

Milne and Barri…

Joy comes in the morning.

"That love is all there is Is all we know of love." ~ E. Dickinson Loving men teach Littles to swim as they fuss and fight but are better for it. Loving men have lonely hearts clubs and pet sounds but now music is in Them.
Loving men trust mamas to have their way and never depreciate emotional investment. Loving men train their eyes to seek clarity under heavy cloud cover. Loving men won't smash a spider for no good reason. Loving men are men indeed and discernibly concealed from boys. Loving men buy the kind of peanut butter you want and white bread even if they prefer organic. Loving men sugar coat a sad day and spice up a sweet year. Loving men take the long route to go the distance.

Wordless Wednesday: Too wild to tame.

We all need the clowns to make us smile.

We use to live next door to a pill popping Nazi sympathizer who belted Journey songs over a hot tub motor during the wee hours. A hurricane came through town enabling his vision of an addition on his house to include said hot tub, compliments of insurance monies. Other additions included an emaciated barking dog and a motorcycle parked just outside our bedroom window. About a half hour after his 4:30a dip in the hot tub and vocalizing session with Steve Perry, he would rev the motorcycle's engine endlessly before heading off to work as a mechanic of sorts. Coincidentally, we kept a newborn baby's cradle on the inside of said window. This newborn's Poppy remembers well her serenading neighbor and his chop shop from Poppy's detecting days on the local police force.

His woman was mean to wide eyed little boys. Demons lived in her tree, she said. Wide eyed little boys were not a welcome addition. I'm still slightly irritated at Lovin' Man for convincing me not to …

Hot, grouchy and unmotivated.

I'm not that good of a person:

I only check local news one time a week.

I made wraps two nights in a row instead of a proper dinner.

I lost three pounds but am fairly crotchety about the lack of treats.

There are dead heads and brown leaves and weeds and a mulch lacking patch in my garden.

I'm going on my fifth skipped Pilates class.

Six pets is too many.

This side of horizon.

"Why do you use chopsticks?", my brilliant bro asks, slightly smirking. Tongue firmly planted in his cheek. He was not a sushi eater. My nonchalant reply: "Just for fun." And the tone changed. It might never have occurred to him.

Hours and days and weeks are spent filling orders for needs. My primary need becomes to decipher and ensure that These People have what they need. I need to show up and smile. I need to actually get in the pool when I'd rather not. I need to create the list and duplicate in every medium available. I need to make the appointment but my new glasses can wait. I need to facilitate the ease of the next lesson by teaching this one. I need to think ahead, then count the cost. I need to show my work even though they're not watching. I need to wish they would hush but not say so. I need to say so. I need to hit reset because everybody needs a fresh start. I need to see the play each day. I need to hear all about it even at 11:43p and I thi…