Wednesday, June 27, 2007

My Hero

Chris stayed home tonight. I thought that was really awesome.

What the ?

Your lovely comment had partial impact, but the tally has changed considerably. Could it be that this clever little toy is not based on factual evidence found within the blog?

Online Dating

This rating was determined based on the presence of the following words:

* fucking (4x)
* kill (2x)
* suck (1x)

Parents strongly cautioned ...

Sharon, we need to try harder.

Online Dating

This rating was determined based on the presence of the following words:

* death (4x)
* fucking (2x)
* kill (1x)

The Police and Sleep Deprivation

Last night, it rained like a son of a bitch. I had to drive to The Colony to pick up my SIL & BIL. The roads were bad but still passable, just bad enough to remind me that I need new tires.

We pick them up and Chris drives and we just hope against hope that we won't be late. The roads on the way there were pretty bad. There was a spot on the tollway where it's really narrow and I want to say there was at least 2 feet of water. That was scary. But then again, I kind of freak out about that kind of stuff. I have a fear that I'll be one of those idiots who drowns in their own car. We make it safely and get poured on while waiting to get into the Platinum Entrance. (We had the same seats we had at Coldplay, BTW.) The open act was lame. And this was supposed to be a sold out show. There was hardly anyone there. But by 8:50 the place was packed. It was a very, very cool show. They were tight and Sting can still hit most of the high notes.

I'm going to say that my BIL and SIL might be the most boring people in the world. Every time I tried to talk about something going on or something funny (you know there are tons of people to make fun of, dancing, high fiving, etc.) she would only talk about music, you know, things like "they did that one a whole half step lower than the original". Ok, I took chorus in 8th grade. That's the extent of my music knowledge. So she and her husband have degrees in music. After the show they talked about what they didn't like. Chris and I both loved it. Oh well.

So Chris is drunk because I agreed to be the DD. But even after we got there, I told him that if the roads were that bad when we left that I wouldn't be comfortable driving. He told me I was SOL. So he gets more and more boisterous as the evening goes on. He has one joke and tells it over and over and over again, getting more and more loud because, it's been my experience that if you don't get a laugh, tell it again, louder!!! And be sure to yell in the ear of the person that you are most annoying! I wanted to kill him by the time we got back to their house in The Colony. Fortunately, Corey was watching all the kids, so he drove Chris's truck back, with the annoying passenger. We leave the girls there because the were determined to stay the night there. We get home and my genius husband decided to restart his mail server at work. Well, it wouldn't come back up. So he had to go to work. I had already laid down and he caught me half asleep telling me he was going up there. After he'd been gone for about a minute, I realized that he shouldn't be driving. So I call him and he comes back and I drive him to his office at 1:45 am. He starts some process that takes about 40 minutes to run. We go to Whataburger. We get back and he tells me that it's not going to be any time soon and that I should go home and sleep until he calls me.

Did I mention that when he left, he was barefoot and carrying beer? Classy and defiant to everything we've ever talked about drinking and driving. When I got in the truck, I threw the beer out the window. And he was mad because that was his last one.

So I'm ranting and raving the whole way there and anytime he walks by where I'm sitting while I'm there. He's assessed that he would have been OK to drive (and again, brings up that fucking beer) and that I'm just being ridiculous. All the while, he's almost falling against the counter while eating his taquitos from Whataburger. I tell him that I'm done talking about it because tomorrow he'd apologize and tell me over and over how right I was. Well, I didn't have to wait, he was doing it before I left.

I get home about 3am and fall asleep about 3:30. I had some weird vampire/witch dream about Tom Cruise. It was weird but kind of cool too. I could do things with my mind! (I was a witch, he was a vampire.) Maybe a little too much Anne Rice has seeped into my brain.

So I wake up at about 5:15 am. I'm determined no one in his office is going to find semi-sober, shoeless employee at the office. Since it's a construction company, a lot of the field employees get there really early. I get up and drive up there fully expecting to find him passed out but he called me when I was pulling into the parking lot.

We get home about 6 am and I get to sleep until about 8 am. While driving around the early hours listening to the radio, I hear that I-35 southbound between 407 and Valley Ridge is shut down because it's underwater. So I drive the long way to 1171 and get on 35 there. This has been the longest fucking day and it's only noon.

I have to work tonight and I agreed to cover some one's shift. So I am working from 4-7:30. My kids are NOT going to be happy about being there. I had hoped Chris would offer to stay home tonight but he didn't. The girls are going to nap and so am I. They were still awake at midnight and had gotten up at 6 am. So they are in prime condition!

Friday, June 22, 2007


Edited to Add: I made a link! If you click here and scroll down, you can actually hear a sample of the song: Bloodrock D.O.A.

When I was little, we had to stay with a babysitter while my mom (and "dad") worked. There were different ones, but this one's name was Wanda. For real. She dipped snuff and spit in a Folger's can. A red Folger's can. I don't know how old I was, but it was old enough to remember. I was four-square adamantly against being left at a babysitter's house. I didn't like it. Not at all. And one of the biggest problems was NAP time. The weirded-out idea that you could lay down with a bunch of strangers and go to sleep in the middle of the day. Blech. So anyway, my mom actually told Wanda that I didn't need to take naps, so DON'T MAKE ME. And Wanda didn't. When it was naptime, everyone would lay down on the wood floors while Wanda would rock the babies with a floor fan beside her. The sound of that fan was so calming. And the rhythmic rocking of the chair ...

But there was always a moment when I would turn my head and open my eyes toward the kitchen or the bedroom. That's where Wanda's teenaged kids, Tooter (a boy) and I-Forgot-Her-Name (a girl) would be waiting for me. And they'd give me the motion and I'd head toward them. If they were in the kitchen, we'd be going outside. I'd swing on the aluminum swingset, while Tooter sat at the top of the slide and I-Don't-Remember-Her-Name leaned against the car. And they'd talk and I'd kinda listen.

If they were waiting in the bedroom, it meant we'd be listening to records. And the 45 that they played over and over and over again was a song about a plane crash. The lyrics have been BURNED into my BRAIN, but I've never heard the song since then. I just now googled a few lyrics and FOUND IT!!! It's real. I didn't make it up in my crazy desperate little-kid-lost-in-the-desert "memory."

It's called "D.O.A." and it's by a band called Bloodrock. I wish I could find a .wav file or anything. I want to hear it. It's DAMN dark. And it was very early in the 70's as I recall ...


Laying here looking at the ceiling
Someone lays a sheet across my chest
Something warm is flowing down my fingers
Pain is flowing all through my back

I try to move my arms and there's no feeling
And when I look I see there's nothing there
The face beside me's stopped it's holy bleeding
The girl I knew has such a distant stare

I remember
We were flying low and hit something in the air
I remember
We were flying low and hit something in the air

Then I looked straight at the attendant
His face is pale as it can be
He bends and whispers something softly
He says there's no chance for me

I remember
We were flying low ( along ) and hit something in the air
I remember
We were flying low and hit something in the air

Life is flowing out my body
Pain is flowing out with my blood
The sheets are red and moist where I'm lying
God in Heaven, teach me how to die

I remember
We were flying low and hit something in the air
I remember
We were flying low and hit something in the air

It ended, I think, with a heartbeat growing ever slower and a breath that finally stops. It had a mighty impact on me at that stage of my development.

New Tats

Have you seen this yet?

I can't decide if it's mondo cool or major bunk.

Wednesday, June 20, 2007

If we weren't homeschooling,

this would be my kid's future.

Tuesday, June 19, 2007

I'm about to get angry. You won't like me when I'm angry.

Today, I spent the day with my MIL. I imagine I feel a lot right now like Mary does after a day with Momo. She's one person that I would fucking LOVE to say what I'm thinking. I would love it. But I sit in silence because it's all I can do.

Then we come home to a house with no a/c. It's hot in here. 80 degrees to be exact. Not sweltering but hot enough that your body just knows something isn't right.

And we were invited over to April's for dinner about a week ago. Initially she tried to get us to come over on Sunday. But being Father's Day, I told her that we'd rather stay home. So her suggestion was that we'd do Tuesday. She even went so far as to say she wasn't cleaning up and asking if we were following a particular diet. So it sounds like a done deal, right? It's almost 4pm and I haven't heard from her. WTF? It's getting on my last nerve.

Now I'm going to turn my a/c back on and see if it's blowing air at all. Last summer we spent $400 have freon leaks patched and having our unit recharged. Mother fucker.

Friday, June 15, 2007

What am I going to DO with myself? with my life?

All I know is, this isn't it.

This is pretty sweet.

SEAT ADVISOR -- It's got concert venues with all the seats highlighted in a sliding scale from green (good), to purple, to yellow, to red (bad). I just checked out Billy Bob's for Loretta tickets. First of all, the show doesn't even START till 10:30. And the BEST tickets left are at table E1, which is close to the back, all the way to the left. It's purple, but I think not. FYI -- The map for Billy Bob's is misleading because it shows the seats in relation to the honky tonk stage. The main stage is on the OTHER SIDE. So ... it's got all the seats shown in front of the honky tonk stage in GREEN, but they would really SUCK if the show was on the main stage. Where's Willie's picnic going to be this year?

UPDATE: Insane. The 4th of July Picnic is going to be in Seattle, Washington. WTF?

Wednesday, June 13, 2007

Keeping Up With the Jones'

I've often felt that I'm too driven to be like everyone else and I've actually done things for appearances. It's something I deal with on a daily basis but at least I'm aware. But am I passing it on to my kids? Is driving by and looking at houses that I can't realistically afford influencing them? Probably. What can I do to stop it? I think it's in every one's nature to want MORE. OK, maybe not everyone but most people...not my BIL who is now by choice living in his car. I have more than I ever thought I would have. I have more than my parents had.

So why am I not happy? Last year about this time, I was obsessed with buying the house across the street because it was huge and had a pool. Now I've moved on to another one a couple of blocks away. And this one doesn't have a pool. But it's huge with a monstrously huge yard.

I have an adequately sized house. I have a nice car. I have a boat. I get to stay home. I never go without anything I need and rarely go without anything I want.

Why am I so damned spoiled?

Friday, June 8, 2007

Here's another one.

I found it on The Old Bill.

Dig it

I want one of those magnets. This pic rocks.

Considering the current conversations ... *

Cultural, historical, sociological, stereotypical, archetypal ... I am examining that graphic and coming with all the aforementioned types of thoughts.

* Note the clever use of consonance with the hard c consonant.

Owning What You Believe

So I'm at the point that I'm ready to completely dissociate myself with anything Christian. But even typing that is hard for me. I've sent my kids to a religious preschool for two main reasons: most of them are in churches and to appease my in-laws. Plus the carpool line was a big bonus! Anyway, I felt it was important to expose them to what most people believe. It's not what Chris and I believe. I can't speak for him, but I don't think he believes in God or a supreme being. I'd like to think there was a God but I don't know necessarily believe it's true. So I guess I fall into the agnostic category. I find it extremely interesting that all of the Christian holidays and celebrations coincide with pagan holidays. And I find Wicca stuff very interesting as well. Now I can't say if I believe in reincarnation, so Buddhism probably isn't for me. But I like their philosophies on life are really good and are certainly applicable.

So these are my rambling, nonlinear thoughts. But I'm scared to death to share them with most people. Mainly because I really freak out that someone might try to 'save' me or my children. Will there be a point that I'm comfortable in my nonconformist thoughts that I'd be able to speak about them?

Sunday, June 3, 2007

Happiness Pie

I am loving this song by Death Lurks on the Brain Candy soundtrack. I know ... I know ... I'm far behind. But at least I get to enjoy it NOW.

Happiness and sunbeams and cute little puppy dogs / These are the things that I've seen with my heart / Life is a happy game if you don't forget to smile / But every now and then, your face, it harbors a frown.

Sadness is a barnacle clinging to your bright boat / You won't let it sink your spirits if you'll only learn to float. / We are all sea captains, sailing on life's rough seas / Come on you Magellan's, come with me / I've got Pie; / Happiness Pie.

I guess you want to know what's in this pie. / Well, there's two cups love, a cup and a half of understanding / A tablespoon of good old-fashioned compassion / Sugar to taste, and you know what.. / The ovens are our hearts.

Happiness Pie.

See the sad man in the corner, he is gross and he is old / People steal his shoes and make him eat mold. / His life won't be bad if he does what he is told. / He should be an alchemist, and turn his pain into gold. / Golden Pie.

Happy tailors, happy workers, happy farmers, happy girls, happy widowers, happy free-lance artists, happy welders, happy world happy drinkers, happy thinkers, happy musicians, happy beauticians, happy mayors, happy pears, happy call girls, happy hula boys.

Happiness Pie / Happiness Pie / Happiness Pie

Tagged again -- Eight Things About Me

I've been putting this one off, because it seems like it could be a really boring subject, but I've decided to go ahead and tackle it so it's not looming as unfinished business. I cannot keep myself from participating.

I was tagged by the Disgruntled Housemother, Heather. Hm, so here goes ...

1. I'm wondering how I'll get through the rest of the week that's ahead.

2. I can read tarot and I used to know how to cast runes. I haven't practiced with runes in awhile, but I love tarot. I especially like looking at other decks to see how the same basic archetypes are still illustrated in the cards. I don't really do many full-blown readings lately because it absolutely wears me out. I used to have the necessary endurance for prolonged emotional and mental effort, but it's just not there anymore. It's not just reading what the cards say, it's intuiting what the entire spread is saying on a personal level. And that's just emotionally draining, especially when you can see that look of expectation on someone's face while they're hanging on every word to try to figure out if it's "true" or not. Or what it "means." It is what it is.

3. I love listening to country music sometimes. I love music period, on a deep, primal level, but there is something about a few country artists that just really speaks to me -- Gram Parsons, Mike Stinson, Jack Ingram, Loretta Lynn, a few others ... And it has caused me to realize that a lot of what's classified as "rock" really sounds suspiciously like it has its roots in country. Billy Bragg even sounds "country" on the Mermaid Avenue CD. Very. Anyway ...

4. I'm extremely worried that I'm only up to number 4 and I can't think of a single thing. I'm going to take a little cocktail break and come right back. Blogger will save this for me, which is awesome.

5. I have a dirty, cluttered house and I hate it. It's not like I'm someone that is OKAY living in this kind of mess. I'm not. I absolutely fucking HATE IT. So you'd think I'd do something about it, right? That's the rub -- It overwhelms me. I do just a little bit (like today, I cleaned out a little corner of the garage) but then I make a mess that's even worse when I'm through "cleaning." For example, after cleaning that little corner of the garage, I went to the backporch to say something to the tot. And then I noticed that the snakes could be put into the new habitat. So I dumped all the stuff from the biggest snake's bowl (a fishbowl) and realized he had escaped. That's the second snake that's gotten out of one of those fishbowls. So there's his empty bowl sitting there now. And I emptied out the two smaller snakes into the habitat, but decided they needed new mulch. So I got the tot to hold the two snakes while I went up to the top of the hill to throw the old mulch on the compost pile and then to the other side of the yard to scoop some more processed compost and soil. And then back to the porch to get the snakes and put them in the habitat. *deep breath* There's a big ol' mess I made with the empty fishbowls and digging tools, but I'm just wring out. Thus, I never get ahead and never will. (Am I manifesting?)

6. My best dog, and then my grandfather, and then my best cat all died in the same year. The dog and my grandfather died in December and then the cat died the following November. It was dark.

7. When I was about 8 years old, I saw an Emerald Witch doll at a Target in Dallas. It wasn't a Target we usually visited -- We were over in a different part of Dallas to visit a friend of hers and when we left, we stopped off at that store. And I saw that doll. She had purple skin and green hair and I wanted her so badly. I didn't get her and I still want her. I don't want to sit her on a shelf and keep her as a collector's item -- I want to take her out of the box and play with her. I want to feel her purple skin. So I wonder if there are things that the tot begs for at the store and I say NO and that will be the very thing she's still wishing she had over 30 years later. I must ameliorate that by getting her everything I can.

8. I am just so very tired and I wish I wasn't. The part that bothers me the most is that I cannot go to sleep or stay asleep, yet I'm exhausted. My eyes should close before my head even hits the pillow at night. But I have to take all kinds of things to force my body to go to sleep, or lay there with my mind racing all night long. It's a conundrum.

I tag Sharon. Duh. And ... Donna -- I don't think she even knows we're putting the band back together! I would tag KATIE, but she might be busy having a baby right now. And I'm not tagging anyone on a MySpace blog because I don't want my "lives" intertwined. Crazy. Oh! I'll tag Billy Goat Beardman! After almost a year with twins he should have LOTS of free time by now. I'm breaking Rule #3.

The Rules:
1. Each player starts with 8 random facts/habits about themselves
2. People who are tagged write a blog post about their own 8 random things and post these rules
3. At the end of your blog you need to tag 8 people and post their names
4. Don’t forget to leave them a comment and tell them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.

Answering your question from the post on May 25.

OP: The New Mary Magdalen -- I'm writing this as a post rather than a comment because I want to use the auto-save feature while I'm drinking my coffee this morning.

I would never send Belle to VBA and one of the main reasons is -- I wouldn't want to hear the CRAP that she would come home singing. And I would have to tell her, just like I always do, that's what SOME people believe. I tell her that she's perfectly free to believe it also, but she needs to know the basis for it first. It's all history. Some of the kindest, gentlest books to get started with are books on Buddhism for children. We especially like I Once Was a Monkey: Stories Buddha Told. Another one that relates back to the story of creation is Big Mama Makes the World. I wish I could remember the first book we read about Buddhism ... it was actually about Prince Siddhartha and we got it from the library. Anabelle LOVED it. One of my own personal favorites is Circle Round: Raising Children in Goddess Traditions. As an aside, another one we really like is All I See is Part of Me. And you already HAVE Goddesses: a World of Myth and Magic. As far as I'm concerned, it's ALL myth and magic. But there are elements of each that begin to form words to live by.

It was Voltaire who said "If God did not exist, it would be necessary to invent him." Humans need something larger to believe in. Before Christianity came along, people looked at what they could see -- the cycle of seasons, childbirth, the moon, ocean tides, etc. And as with every religion, it's important to look at the historical context. During the dawn of Christianity, civilization was literally crumbling. It was the end of the world as they knew it. People needed a reason to live, to stay hopeful, to do their duties. So they came up with the idea that if you work hard and struggle through this life, you will be rewarded in death. Bless their souls, they needed that. But then they thought EVERYONE needed that. And they decided to KILL the people who didn't believe as they did. Some of the most interesting (and heartbreaking) tales are that of the Inquisition. Here's something that's interesting to me -- almost every single aspect of Christianity can find its beginnings in paganism. The Trinity - Father, Son, Holy Ghost - Maiden, Goddess, Crone. Christmas actually comes from the Winter Solstice. Easter from Ostara. The Christians knew that they couldn't convince the people over to their way of life if there weren't some fabulous parties to go along with it (the people were already celebrating their pagan customs), so they took the holidays that were already in place and gave them a new meaning. History. I could go on and on, but there are books about it that present it well.

Here's where I draw the line around here -- no dogma. Histories, philosophies, theories -- but there is no One Answer. Our spiritual nature is what it is. It's the same for every living thing and it's not something we are meant to know in a lifetime on earth. People can believe what they want to believe, but that doesn't make it so. I used to envy people the comfort that they seemed to draw from their religion, but then I realized what they were clinging to -- RULES. If it's actually a RELIGION, then that's what it is -- a set of RULES. It would be nice to know that if I'm good (by following 10 simple commandments and "accepting Jesus as my lord and saviour") I will go to Heaven to be reunited with my loved ones and finally with You-Know-Who. But that's just a myth in only ONE of the holy books.

By the way, the pagans call the afterlife, or the place we go after we cross the river of death, Summerland. I like that. Summerland. Sometimes we need to use certain words to explain our experiences, our beliefs, but they are only words. I wish I could remember the exact quote ... I used to have a little quote that I had cut out of something and put in my scrapbook when I was a teenager. It was some abbey, monk or holy person that said it and it went something LIKE this, "If God is truly all powerful and forgiving, then his subjects need not fear that freedom of thought will prove disastrous." I wish I could find that exact quote again.

Saturday, June 2, 2007

Maiden Mother Crone

You know, I always thought Crone was such an ugly word. And I certainly never wanted to be one. But in truth it's a woman who's lived the length of her life. However, only has it as what comes to mind: ugly, old, wicked. When really it should be bountiful, knowledgeable, magnificent. So at 32, I'm not a crone. Neither are you by the way. With a 6 year old, you are hardly ready to transition to the letting go part of parenting.
You made me think on my own place in my family. My Mom was 46 when she died. So you are very close to her age. So I was about Christopher's age, in relation. I can't imagine dying that young. And it's changed the whole dynamic of my family and not just my immediate family. It's hard to go through life without a mom. She was someone that I could tell anything and she wouldn't judge. I feel like my brothers are lost without her. My Dad has completely moved on. It makes me sad that my kids don't know her.
Ok, I was going to be all deep but now I'm getting bummed out. I've decided to live forever.

I have now lived longer than my paternal grandmother.

It's getting surreal. I just now realized that I've now lived to be older than my paternal grandmother, who I never met. She died two years before I was born. She died when she was 42 and I'm now 43. All of last year, I would think to myself, "This would've been Frances' last year on earth." But now I can't think that anymore. I'm older now than Frances ever survived to be. Seems unusual. Because there's that whole PARADIGM where I lie directly in-between, one generation removed, from my daughter and my grandmother. I'm not a mathematician, but I can see how this works. It's a vortex almost, where I am both looking behind to myself as a child, and ahead to my octogenarian self. It's profound.

So anyway, it used to seem kinda like 42 was old enough. To know that Frances died when she was 42 was to find yourself thinking that (after all) 42 isn't really THAT young. She was already OLD -- Pam was young, therefore Frances was not. That was kinda how I looked at it until just this past several months. When I actually turned 42, it was kinda like reaching the "Jesus age." I had made it. I should probably figure out the meaning of MY life or something like it. Didn't so much work that way. I didn't figure out a damn thing. I'm 43 now and I do not know one single secret. I still do not know My Life's Purpose. But the pressure's a little bit off too, you know. Well, I didn't figure out when I thought I would, so maybe it's going to take a LOT longer ... no need to rush. 42 is really very, very young. There are soooo many more things for me to do. So even though I walk around feeling ancient and INVISIBLE because I don't LOOK the way I USED to, I should realize that the benefit of becoming invisible is that I can now proceed to live the rest of my life in relative comfort and satisfaction and keep thinking ... thinking ... thinking ...

I can't remember when I last referred to it, and I know it bears the strong possibility of sounding trite, but I really am going through a sea change. I've thought about starting yet ANOTHER blog to categorize that little seed of my other life. In the same way that we use baby books to record milestones, I feel the need to commemorate some of these new and fabulous realizations. And then there's that guilt that I'm on the computer too much ...

Friday, June 1, 2007

What do you see?

Damn, that was seriously the best card I've ever gotten. There was one card out there that was made just for me and you found it.

The birthday celebration is overdue. I propose someplace with cheap drinks or a long happy hour.

I will NEVER give up my dream!!!