I had a dream about my mother this morning. We were on a native reservation somewhere in the woods. My friend Jeanette Garcia was there. We were working all together, gathering sticks and binding them together in bundles. On the path ahead of me sat a small round piece of drift wood. As I reached for it, it turned into an owl, spoke to me (words I don't remember) and then flew away. I turned to my mother and she had streaks of blood along her thighs. The streaks of blood became earthworms and I knew from that her time had come. We put her in a birthing chair in a small smokey room and the baby began to push its way out. I heard one of the elder men say from outside the tent that my mother needed to birth a "workhorse". I knew by that he meant a boy baby. The baby slid out into my arms and as I was trying to clear its mouth I poked one of its fragile eyes. It began to cry and sputtered out amniotic fluid. I noticed it was a girl. Donovan tried to hug it and I told him the baby was covered in blood and he should wait for me to clean it. He then tried to cut the umbilicus and I told him he must clamp it first. I remember thinking that this work was enjoyable and fulfilling and that I should get an apprenticeship under my friend Kamy Shaw. She would help me learn. My mother began cramping again and I assured her it was only the placenta passing. I left her to get a bowl big enough to hold it and that part of the dream phased into another one about a double decker carousel with fairies.
The thing is, on the surface of it I understand consciously why my mother may have been pregnant in the dream. Because her liver and kidneys aren't functioning her abdomen is filled with fluid and terrifically swollen, even as her limbs and face are wasting away. This "fluid filled abdomen" is exactly what it is to be pregnant. The fact that she had a baby girl instead of the "workhorse she needed" indicates that I feel like a failure to her. That as a weak woman suffering from RA I am much more ineffectual in helping her than if I had been born a strong boy. The thing that concerned me the most was the presence of the earthworms and the owl. I have been taught that these are symbols of imminent death and as I have always believed, death is also a form of rebirth, thus leading back to the birthing sequence. In essence, I delivered my mother from the womb of my own mother. I am then called to look at the word "Delivered" and understand that it has multiple connotations, one of which is to rescue one from a bad situation. So, here I am knowing what it all means but wondering if it was all made up by my subconscious or if the universe planted the seed in my mind to help me prepare for my mother's death being sooner than I thought.
I did call her this morning and my father said she was fine. The dream still has me in a very thoughtful mood this morning, however.
1.6.11
Howling For All The Wrong Reasons
The doctor says I have shingles. They itch really badly and I've been promised by multiple people that pain will probably follow. The doctor also said that stress can cause them. I told her about my mother and about my new puppy and about Loki the cat's insane pink eye. Then I looked her straight in the eye and told her it probably was stress after all.
Mother called a couple times today. She is still fully convinced that she will die tonight. I told dad she needs to put her advanced directive on file at the hospital just on the off chance she gets put back into the hospital which is really very likely considering they would have put her back in today if a bed had been available. Both the numbers in her blood pressure are in the double digits and the home health nurse says that her kidneys are shutting down. Dad says everything will get better if they can just get her hydrated and back on the milk thistle. She has tricked us so many times that I really don't want to believe her when she says she is going to die tonight but part of me says if anyone is going to know wouldn't it be her? Then again, a very dear friend said that its possible its just the dementia talking and that she could have years left.
BUT it rained tonight and I'm watching a biopic about Allen Ginsberg and his poem "Howl". The puppy is curled up beside me asleep and Mike made a wonderful green chili crusted grilled salmon and latkes for dinner so my tummy is full. The night is cool and I'm contented. If mom passes on tonight its what she wants and if she doesn't then that is just as well because it means that I get to spend more time with her.
Gods and goddesses bless us with whatever is best for us now.
Mother called a couple times today. She is still fully convinced that she will die tonight. I told dad she needs to put her advanced directive on file at the hospital just on the off chance she gets put back into the hospital which is really very likely considering they would have put her back in today if a bed had been available. Both the numbers in her blood pressure are in the double digits and the home health nurse says that her kidneys are shutting down. Dad says everything will get better if they can just get her hydrated and back on the milk thistle. She has tricked us so many times that I really don't want to believe her when she says she is going to die tonight but part of me says if anyone is going to know wouldn't it be her? Then again, a very dear friend said that its possible its just the dementia talking and that she could have years left.
BUT it rained tonight and I'm watching a biopic about Allen Ginsberg and his poem "Howl". The puppy is curled up beside me asleep and Mike made a wonderful green chili crusted grilled salmon and latkes for dinner so my tummy is full. The night is cool and I'm contented. If mom passes on tonight its what she wants and if she doesn't then that is just as well because it means that I get to spend more time with her.
Gods and goddesses bless us with whatever is best for us now.
31.5.11
"Real Women Have Curves... Not the body of a fifteen year old boy."
I just joined a facebook group with the name above because I thought the title was funny. I don't necessarily enjoy my curves one hundred percent of the time and I thought it would be mentally uplifting to become part of a group that did enjoy their curves. Perhaps it would make me more appreciative of what I have. The whole group was nothing but trash talking between fat people and thin people. Pure hatred going back and forth. All the thin posters said that "curvy" was just code for fat. They used words like "fattie" and "rhino". It was ugly and hateful. They made assumptions like all curvy women have diabetes or all curvy women cheap horny women just looking for some. The curvy women were just as bad. In the end I left the group after only being a member for a couple of minutes.
I did a search for groups that represented curvy women in a positive light and couldn't find any. All I could find were groups of skinny women calling other women fat and so called curvy women calling skinny women all kinds of terrible things. The interesting thing is, most of the women who had posted pictures on this group I wouldn't even consider over-weight and I got to wondering if anyone stopped to even look at these women. I am 5'6" and 177lbs. I've been this weight for almost 6 years. The medical world considers me overweight but not obese. I think most of the women who had posted pictures on this group had a lower percentage of body fat than I did. And people were on there calling them "hippos". One person said it was "easier to hit like than to go out and exercise".
Suddenly these women who are trying desperately to like themselves and be proud of who they are were being attacked not because they were being physically unhealthy but because they had the gall to try and be emotionally happy. One thing I don't think any of these women understand is that becoming emotionally happy is the first step to becoming physically happy. If these women are supported in their lives to becoming emotionally happy they will become strong enough to be physically healthy.
I wish these women, both skinny and curvy find the strength they need to be happy and healthy and like themselves regardless of the world around them.
I did a search for groups that represented curvy women in a positive light and couldn't find any. All I could find were groups of skinny women calling other women fat and so called curvy women calling skinny women all kinds of terrible things. The interesting thing is, most of the women who had posted pictures on this group I wouldn't even consider over-weight and I got to wondering if anyone stopped to even look at these women. I am 5'6" and 177lbs. I've been this weight for almost 6 years. The medical world considers me overweight but not obese. I think most of the women who had posted pictures on this group had a lower percentage of body fat than I did. And people were on there calling them "hippos". One person said it was "easier to hit like than to go out and exercise".
Suddenly these women who are trying desperately to like themselves and be proud of who they are were being attacked not because they were being physically unhealthy but because they had the gall to try and be emotionally happy. One thing I don't think any of these women understand is that becoming emotionally happy is the first step to becoming physically happy. If these women are supported in their lives to becoming emotionally happy they will become strong enough to be physically healthy.
I wish these women, both skinny and curvy find the strength they need to be happy and healthy and like themselves regardless of the world around them.
The World Doesn't Stand Still
It is almost midnight. Summer break so the kids are all still up. They are watching something on the internet that has them all cracking up. I watched a silly horror movie with Kevin Costner in it. I ate Taco Bell for dinner with a large Mountain Dew. Tomorrow Keira starts her acting classes and Donovan has a dentist appointment. Maybe Barnes and Noble with call me about an interview. It seems as if nothing is different. Everything is good, right?
The fact is my mom called at 2 this afternoon and told me I should drive to Deming because she wasn't going to make it through the night. She knew she was going to die. Arianna came with me, so brave for a ten year old to face what very well may be the death of a loved one. She knew the implications and came anyway. I went. Not because I thought my mother was going to die but because I knew if she did and I wasn't there I would never forgive myself. I told Mike is was like prophylactic guilt protection. I didn't go to what I called the Death Watch because I wanted or needed to say goodbye to her or because I didn't want her to be alone but because I knew I would feel guilty if I wasn't there.
All the grief that a daughter can feel bottled up into one crystalline moment that shatters when my mother said "I made a mistake, I didn't really need you. Go home."
And so here I sit, the world still turning and everything feeling all normal as if it will go on like this forever. But it won't because one day she really will die and what if that guilt isn't enough to sucker me into her drama next time... or the time after that... or the time after that.
The fact is my mom called at 2 this afternoon and told me I should drive to Deming because she wasn't going to make it through the night. She knew she was going to die. Arianna came with me, so brave for a ten year old to face what very well may be the death of a loved one. She knew the implications and came anyway. I went. Not because I thought my mother was going to die but because I knew if she did and I wasn't there I would never forgive myself. I told Mike is was like prophylactic guilt protection. I didn't go to what I called the Death Watch because I wanted or needed to say goodbye to her or because I didn't want her to be alone but because I knew I would feel guilty if I wasn't there.
All the grief that a daughter can feel bottled up into one crystalline moment that shatters when my mother said "I made a mistake, I didn't really need you. Go home."
And so here I sit, the world still turning and everything feeling all normal as if it will go on like this forever. But it won't because one day she really will die and what if that guilt isn't enough to sucker me into her drama next time... or the time after that... or the time after that.
15.2.11
Blogging is good for the soul
"I think she only crawls out of the woodwork to blog when her life sucks."
Yes folks, I haven't posted in forever because frankly, things were going pretty good there for a bit and I thought everything I could possibly post was boring and redundant. It was almost as if I was waiting for that moment when my life turned to shit and got exciting again.
We had that huge snow storm two weekends back and the pipes all froze and we had rolling blackouts which was fun. The kids and I played "Grandfather's Store" by candlelight. I realized that when I used to play with my parents we used what their great grandfather would have had in their store and I was still kind of stuck on that era. I kept coming up with things like "washboard" and the kids kept coming up with things like "atom bomb". Technically we were both right - it just depends on whose grandfather you are talking about. Except Keira who insisted on using words like "giraffe" and "penguin". I think she was using Diane Fosse's grandfather - or Jane Goodall. Or maybe that guy from The Snows of Kilimanjaro, a movie I might point out, that has neither snow nor Kilimanjaro in it.
Anyway, I should have seen it coming - It's like the curse of Valentines Day, right? Saturday an Sunday we house sat for Sabine in Radium Springs and the weather was gorgeous and the river was low. We spent most of the weekend on the sand bar, playing in the sand and the kids watched movies and we had snacks, etc. Sunday Mike was home all day. It was warm and we grilled. I got to see Rebecca's new baby Coraline and it was amazing to hold her and play with her. At the same time it was good to see that Rebecca was wearing motherhood like a new dress. Monday morning was V-Day and I got up feeling chipper with little to no expectations about the day or romance or any silly thing like that. Mike slept late and then we went to have lunch. We talked a little bit about the future and decided that we may as well stay in Las Cruces for a year to save up money for a real move. We've done the poor move twice and it sucks, especially with kids. I'd like to do a prepared move for once.
Michael mentioned he wanted to take me out to the movies for Valentines Day but by the time 5pm rolled around it was like thunderheads gathering on the horizon. I could smell the ozone in the air and knew it was not going to be a pleasant night. A night at the movies with my honey quickly deteriorated into dinner with the kids at "wherever you want". The dryer broke. Michael started getting anxious and throwing up again.
By six am this morning I'd had little to no sleep, almost chopped my hand off in the dryer, fought with Keira about 80 times, and realized I was still so far behind on homework I'd never see the light.
Optimism is just the guy that sets it up so the fall really hurts this time...
Yes folks, I haven't posted in forever because frankly, things were going pretty good there for a bit and I thought everything I could possibly post was boring and redundant. It was almost as if I was waiting for that moment when my life turned to shit and got exciting again.
We had that huge snow storm two weekends back and the pipes all froze and we had rolling blackouts which was fun. The kids and I played "Grandfather's Store" by candlelight. I realized that when I used to play with my parents we used what their great grandfather would have had in their store and I was still kind of stuck on that era. I kept coming up with things like "washboard" and the kids kept coming up with things like "atom bomb". Technically we were both right - it just depends on whose grandfather you are talking about. Except Keira who insisted on using words like "giraffe" and "penguin". I think she was using Diane Fosse's grandfather - or Jane Goodall. Or maybe that guy from The Snows of Kilimanjaro, a movie I might point out, that has neither snow nor Kilimanjaro in it.
Anyway, I should have seen it coming - It's like the curse of Valentines Day, right? Saturday an Sunday we house sat for Sabine in Radium Springs and the weather was gorgeous and the river was low. We spent most of the weekend on the sand bar, playing in the sand and the kids watched movies and we had snacks, etc. Sunday Mike was home all day. It was warm and we grilled. I got to see Rebecca's new baby Coraline and it was amazing to hold her and play with her. At the same time it was good to see that Rebecca was wearing motherhood like a new dress. Monday morning was V-Day and I got up feeling chipper with little to no expectations about the day or romance or any silly thing like that. Mike slept late and then we went to have lunch. We talked a little bit about the future and decided that we may as well stay in Las Cruces for a year to save up money for a real move. We've done the poor move twice and it sucks, especially with kids. I'd like to do a prepared move for once.
Michael mentioned he wanted to take me out to the movies for Valentines Day but by the time 5pm rolled around it was like thunderheads gathering on the horizon. I could smell the ozone in the air and knew it was not going to be a pleasant night. A night at the movies with my honey quickly deteriorated into dinner with the kids at "wherever you want". The dryer broke. Michael started getting anxious and throwing up again.
By six am this morning I'd had little to no sleep, almost chopped my hand off in the dryer, fought with Keira about 80 times, and realized I was still so far behind on homework I'd never see the light.
Optimism is just the guy that sets it up so the fall really hurts this time...
31.1.11
Shedding the Pounds
I've been trying to lose weight the last couple of weeks - I've been exercising by riding my bike to school, eating better, drinking only water. The first week I gained 6 pounds. I was livid but Michael said it was only water weight and when I finally lost it I had also lost two pound so regular weight. So, in the spirit of bettering my life I began spring cleaning and in the spirit of water weight I gain a whole bunch more stuff before I was able to get rid of other stuff. So now my house is trashed but I got rid of 3 bags of garbage and several boxes yard sale goods...
18.9.10
Selfish
I decided, since everyone is out of the house and its my birthday weekend, I'm not going to clean the house alone.
17.9.10
Power Dynamics of the Patriarichal Home
I feel like I'm stuck in some power struggle I don't quite understand. Mike fought all night to sleep on my side of the bed. I've slept on the same side of the bed for 14 years and suddenly last night he started sleeping on my side of the bed and refused to budge. I slept on the couch for part of the night, tried to sleep on his side to no avail and finally wrestled what little space I could on the edge of my side. As soon as I got up to wake the kids this morning he resolutely moved back into my spot. What is going on here?
I know I'm a little OCD that this even matters but seriously - you run your life a certain way for 14 years and then someone up and changes it without explanation, without remorse.
Keira's another one. She looks me straight in the face this morning and tells me, "I have no clean clothes." Her drawers are filled with stacks of clothes we bought her at the beginning of school and here's the kicker: Some of them still had tags on them. So when I put the nice new jeans on her she throws and absolute shit fit. Yelling, screaming, kicking. You'd think I'd suggested we lobotomize her the way she was carrying on.
Ari and Donovan have chosen their sides, the quit doing homework two weeks ago and have been lying about it ever since.
I'm tired. My psychologist says the only one I can control is me but it feels like when I stop trying to control them they either give up or gang up on me. The house is trashed because no one will clean it but me and I haven't had time. Homework isn't getting done by anyone but me. And I don't even get a side of the bed anymore. And this is where I'm supposed to come up with some startling revelation that will help me deal with myself and the world around me but you know what? I got nothing.
I know I'm a little OCD that this even matters but seriously - you run your life a certain way for 14 years and then someone up and changes it without explanation, without remorse.
Keira's another one. She looks me straight in the face this morning and tells me, "I have no clean clothes." Her drawers are filled with stacks of clothes we bought her at the beginning of school and here's the kicker: Some of them still had tags on them. So when I put the nice new jeans on her she throws and absolute shit fit. Yelling, screaming, kicking. You'd think I'd suggested we lobotomize her the way she was carrying on.
Ari and Donovan have chosen their sides, the quit doing homework two weeks ago and have been lying about it ever since.
I'm tired. My psychologist says the only one I can control is me but it feels like when I stop trying to control them they either give up or gang up on me. The house is trashed because no one will clean it but me and I haven't had time. Homework isn't getting done by anyone but me. And I don't even get a side of the bed anymore. And this is where I'm supposed to come up with some startling revelation that will help me deal with myself and the world around me but you know what? I got nothing.
16.9.10
I Curse Her For Leaving the World the Coward's Way
"I didn’t want any flowers, I only wanted
To lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty.
How free it is, you have no idea how free——
The peacefulness is so big it dazes you,
And it asks nothing, a name tag, a few trinkets.
It is what the dead close on, finally; I imagine them
Shutting their mouths on it, like a Communion tablet."
-Tulips Sylvia Plath
I know that need for peace that she speaks of. The image of pale white palms open on white sheets is almost religious, I have seen pictures of Jesus and Mary with their palms facing outward like consolation. But the hugeness of the peacefulness, and the permanency of it... That is what scared me away.
Now the need for the quiet, for peace, is not so alluring and I can gain peace and happiness from my day to day mad rush. I can take a minute before the family wakes to write this journal. I can sit on my meditation pillow and ask the goddess or gods for Grace. I can ask them to grant me peace and tranquility. Yesterday they gave me the gift of the flowers. Today I can only imagine what they will send my way. Tomorrow, perhaps I will get no peace at all.
But the important thing is that I know what Sylvia wanted and I know she finally got it. I commend her the strength she had in going through with it but at the same time I curse her for leaving the world the coward's way...
-Tulips Sylvia Plath
I know that need for peace that she speaks of. The image of pale white palms open on white sheets is almost religious, I have seen pictures of Jesus and Mary with their palms facing outward like consolation. But the hugeness of the peacefulness, and the permanency of it... That is what scared me away.
Now the need for the quiet, for peace, is not so alluring and I can gain peace and happiness from my day to day mad rush. I can take a minute before the family wakes to write this journal. I can sit on my meditation pillow and ask the goddess or gods for Grace. I can ask them to grant me peace and tranquility. Yesterday they gave me the gift of the flowers. Today I can only imagine what they will send my way. Tomorrow, perhaps I will get no peace at all.
But the important thing is that I know what Sylvia wanted and I know she finally got it. I commend her the strength she had in going through with it but at the same time I curse her for leaving the world the coward's way...
15.9.10
Jung Would've Laughed...
I dreamed about bad poetry and old high school gyms all night. I also dreamed that my old boss got a promotion and was moved into the basement. The faculty down there was dirty. One of them was an FBI agent wearing a wire. They almost killed him until I hit one of the glass walls with a baseball bat. The climbing wall was made out of pvc, plastic and duct tape and little kids slept in the folded up bleachers. Maybe Freud would laugh too.
Dreams aside, I've started to get a complex that the world it out to get me. I know that sounds crazy but if you can't sound crazy in your diary where can you sound crazy. The only people who read this understand that I was already crazy years ago anyway. Anyway, when I need to do homework the internet quits, when I want to clean the house the kids go on strike. It is as if every time I want to get something accomplished some thing goes on the fritz, as if I'm still in a dream. A very frustrating nightmare. I know my shrink (and probably Freud, too) would say that my need to control the world around me is short circuiting the things I most wish to control. My kids represent my ability to control my family's future and ensure they grow up to be good, well rounded people with stable futures. The internet represents my need to have stability in my life where the bills always get paid, the power is always on and we always have a roof over our heads. Despite my best attempts I just can't seem to keep my bills paid on time. Maybe that has something to do with the strange current of incoming funds that seems to dry up suddenly, or maybe it has to do with the fact that I tend to spend money on stupid shit instead of important things.
I think Jung would see this as a stage in my process of individuation. I'm recognizing the issues lodged deep in my psyche and now I just have to figure out a way to fix 'em. And I do recognize, as I mentioned in my last post, that I'm controlling and co-dp. I guess I'm also a little high strung and over-dramatic at times. (The world is out to get me?)
By the way, its really hard to take the morning seriously when the sun hasn't even gotten up yet.
Dreams aside, I've started to get a complex that the world it out to get me. I know that sounds crazy but if you can't sound crazy in your diary where can you sound crazy. The only people who read this understand that I was already crazy years ago anyway. Anyway, when I need to do homework the internet quits, when I want to clean the house the kids go on strike. It is as if every time I want to get something accomplished some thing goes on the fritz, as if I'm still in a dream. A very frustrating nightmare. I know my shrink (and probably Freud, too) would say that my need to control the world around me is short circuiting the things I most wish to control. My kids represent my ability to control my family's future and ensure they grow up to be good, well rounded people with stable futures. The internet represents my need to have stability in my life where the bills always get paid, the power is always on and we always have a roof over our heads. Despite my best attempts I just can't seem to keep my bills paid on time. Maybe that has something to do with the strange current of incoming funds that seems to dry up suddenly, or maybe it has to do with the fact that I tend to spend money on stupid shit instead of important things.
I think Jung would see this as a stage in my process of individuation. I'm recognizing the issues lodged deep in my psyche and now I just have to figure out a way to fix 'em. And I do recognize, as I mentioned in my last post, that I'm controlling and co-dp. I guess I'm also a little high strung and over-dramatic at times. (The world is out to get me?)
By the way, its really hard to take the morning seriously when the sun hasn't even gotten up yet.
14.9.10
Hangs her head in shame...
Ok, so I've been a horrible blogger and an even worse diary updater. Usually when I've gone this long before updating I give a really long recap post so you all know what has being going on. This time I'm not. Sorry but here is the recap: Shit happens. And it happened to me. A lot.
I'm working on two things in my life right now, my need to control not only every minuscule detail in my own life but also those around me, and my co-dependency (from her on out referred to as co-dp). I'm pretty sure these things go hand in hand but if I chose to take them as two small problems instead of a giant humongous single problem, its less overwhelming. I'm reading a bok called "Co-Dp No More". I'd love to say I'm no longer trying to control everyone around me but I haven't made that much progress. I have made enough progress to recognize that I am a controlling bitch that suffers from roughshod insanity when things are out of whack. So that is some kind of progress.
In school we are studying the Confessionalist poets Lowell, Berryman, and Plathe. I realized shortly after we started that they too suffered from roughshod insanity. A ton of poets and writers were. Completely, shithouse insane. I feel like I'm in good company. This is a good realization in my life because by recognizing the problem we can take steps to solve it, right?
In the meantime, I feel fall in the air and I love it. I want for it to be mosquito and allergy-less.
I want the smell of pumpkin on my hands, the smell of chimney woodsmoke and fresh baked bread. I want everything that is fall. Summertime has officially become a doo-doo head and needs to go to away. I think I want to use this as my commonplace book. I have been keeping my commonplace book in my backpack but it is giant and heavy and it makes so much more sense to post it here. A commonplace book is a journal filled with art and poems, stories and vinettes written by you but also by people that you admire. Its like a collection of moods and emotions. I've never done one online before and I think it might be tricksey but I'm going to work for it.
I found a long lost friend on facebook and she accepted my friend request but now she ignores me and doesn't answer my wall posts. Ok, I can see being pissed off at me and I totally understand holding a grudge but why accept my friend request? Why not just ignore it? Another friend that is still kind of angry at my treatment of her in highschool accepted my friend request with the caveat that we not talk about the past. That makes complete sense to me and I respect her for it immensely. We've both grown and become different people so it is important to leave the past behind us. Maybe I'm reading into it, maybe the more recent add is not still mad at me from high school but is just too busy to respond. I'll set it on a shelf and let it stew a little bit.
5 days until my birthday. Thirty four. This number doesn't hold any fear or angst for me. I just really don't give a shit. I remember when I was a kid, every morning on my birthday my mother would ask, "So, do you feel any different?" I remember I always tried very hard to reach down inside of me to find a 'differentness' but I never could find one. I guess the last couple of years I've just stopped looking for the element of change inside of me. I am changing all the time, making myself a better person; more spiritual, more giving, more patient. My age doesn't have anything to do with that. Wisdom comes with practice not with time. Again, I guess those go hand in hand.
I'm going to apply for a job. I know this ruins my "June Cleaver" credibility but to be honest the house doesn't stay any cleaner with me being home than it would if I were bringing money to help pay the bills. My house is a shambles. I'm sorry. It will be clean when I retire. I've have one of those spectacular perfectly clean and tidy homes when I retire. Right now I'm doing what is important: Helping Keira learn to writer her letters, helping Ari with her spelling lists, helping Donovan with his "Allow ballcaps to be worn in school" petition, and keep my own grades up.
Next? Maybe a poem.
I'm working on two things in my life right now, my need to control not only every minuscule detail in my own life but also those around me, and my co-dependency (from her on out referred to as co-dp). I'm pretty sure these things go hand in hand but if I chose to take them as two small problems instead of a giant humongous single problem, its less overwhelming. I'm reading a bok called "Co-Dp No More". I'd love to say I'm no longer trying to control everyone around me but I haven't made that much progress. I have made enough progress to recognize that I am a controlling bitch that suffers from roughshod insanity when things are out of whack. So that is some kind of progress.
In school we are studying the Confessionalist poets Lowell, Berryman, and Plathe. I realized shortly after we started that they too suffered from roughshod insanity. A ton of poets and writers were. Completely, shithouse insane. I feel like I'm in good company. This is a good realization in my life because by recognizing the problem we can take steps to solve it, right?
In the meantime, I feel fall in the air and I love it. I want for it to be mosquito and allergy-less.
I want the smell of pumpkin on my hands, the smell of chimney woodsmoke and fresh baked bread. I want everything that is fall. Summertime has officially become a doo-doo head and needs to go to away. I think I want to use this as my commonplace book. I have been keeping my commonplace book in my backpack but it is giant and heavy and it makes so much more sense to post it here. A commonplace book is a journal filled with art and poems, stories and vinettes written by you but also by people that you admire. Its like a collection of moods and emotions. I've never done one online before and I think it might be tricksey but I'm going to work for it.
I found a long lost friend on facebook and she accepted my friend request but now she ignores me and doesn't answer my wall posts. Ok, I can see being pissed off at me and I totally understand holding a grudge but why accept my friend request? Why not just ignore it? Another friend that is still kind of angry at my treatment of her in highschool accepted my friend request with the caveat that we not talk about the past. That makes complete sense to me and I respect her for it immensely. We've both grown and become different people so it is important to leave the past behind us. Maybe I'm reading into it, maybe the more recent add is not still mad at me from high school but is just too busy to respond. I'll set it on a shelf and let it stew a little bit.
5 days until my birthday. Thirty four. This number doesn't hold any fear or angst for me. I just really don't give a shit. I remember when I was a kid, every morning on my birthday my mother would ask, "So, do you feel any different?" I remember I always tried very hard to reach down inside of me to find a 'differentness' but I never could find one. I guess the last couple of years I've just stopped looking for the element of change inside of me. I am changing all the time, making myself a better person; more spiritual, more giving, more patient. My age doesn't have anything to do with that. Wisdom comes with practice not with time. Again, I guess those go hand in hand.
I'm going to apply for a job. I know this ruins my "June Cleaver" credibility but to be honest the house doesn't stay any cleaner with me being home than it would if I were bringing money to help pay the bills. My house is a shambles. I'm sorry. It will be clean when I retire. I've have one of those spectacular perfectly clean and tidy homes when I retire. Right now I'm doing what is important: Helping Keira learn to writer her letters, helping Ari with her spelling lists, helping Donovan with his "Allow ballcaps to be worn in school" petition, and keep my own grades up.
Next? Maybe a poem.
5.11.09
Crossroads Woman
My surgery is scheduled for December 10th and while I am super thrilled about maybe getting rid of the pain I am still at a point where I am mourning that part of my life. Though I am being physically ushered from the mother stage into the crone stage earlier than my body planned, I also find my spiritual life following along behind.
I'm doing a big paper for my Honors Art and Mythology class where I take a really in depth look at the social and historical factors involved in the Demeter and Persephone myth. It has pulled down, headlong, like Persephone herself into the Underworld. I see the symbols left by the myth everywhere. In Underworld, we find that Selene has been brought over as a young girl to vampirism by the "King" of the vampires. This directly correlates to Persephone being forcibly removed to the underworld.
In John William Waterhouse's Narcissus we find a young girl picking flowers, oblivious to the dangers in the world around her. Indeed, Narcissus were the favored flowers of Persephone and Zeus told Hades where he would find her.
In the Matrix sequels, we find a character named Persephone who is married to a gangland boss type character who owns a club called Club Hel. Her husband figures into the story as being in charge of lost souls.
A sometimes used character in the Persephone myth is Hecate, Goddess of the Crossroads. She is sometimes styled as a psychopomp who journeys with souls into the underground, her torches lighting the way. She is the goddess who presides over crossroads where three roads converge and I find this especially telling in the trinity of the Three aspects of Woman. If Persephone is Maiden, Demeter is Mother, the Hecate is Crone. Persephone is, more precisely on the cusp between maiden and mother, she was a maiden but her innocence, her childhood is "dead" and she has tasted of the pomegranate, a fruit that mimics eggs in the womb. Demeter is on the cusp between Mother and Crone. She is mother but her child has grown and left home. Her action of bringing winter to the world is a symbolism of her now barren womb. Hecate too, is a woman on the cusp of a great journey, for she is the wise woman of cronehood but can also travel into the world of the dead. This leads me to believe that all the main female characters in the Persephone myth are one woman and that woman is all women. We are all at the crossroads. In honor of that realization I jotted down this poem:
Crossroads Woman
At dawn, her shadow sat like fat limbed Cupid upon the wall.
She bathed in the sweet nectar of Narcissus blossoms,
Her journey was just begun.
At noontide, her shadow stretched like the silken locked Kore
She bathed in the sharp, tart juice of the pomegranate,
Her journey half done.
At Evening, her shadowed rounded like Hecate upon the wall.
She bathed in the heavy scented musk and clove,
Her journey undone.
She was a woman at the crossroads, and had always been so.
She bathed in the sweet nectar of Narcissus blossoms,
Her journey was just begun.
At noontide, her shadow stretched like the silken locked Kore
She bathed in the sharp, tart juice of the pomegranate,
Her journey half done.
At Evening, her shadowed rounded like Hecate upon the wall.
She bathed in the heavy scented musk and clove,
Her journey undone.
She was a woman at the crossroads, and had always been so.
1.11.09
Dia De Los Muertos
Charles T. Snyder
Alberta Synder
Marion Snyder
Thomas Fetters
Price Chisolm
Richard Fetters Sr.
Richard Fetters Jr.
Jean Block
Bertha Ronkko
Andy Ronkko
Donna Barber
Julie Morgan
Bonnie
Hector Telles
Alberta Synder
Marion Snyder
Thomas Fetters
Price Chisolm
Richard Fetters Sr.
Richard Fetters Jr.
Jean Block
Bertha Ronkko
Andy Ronkko
Donna Barber
Julie Morgan
Bonnie
Hector Telles
29.10.09
A Dream on the Wings of the Wind
It was really windy two nights ago. A cold spell roared in on the wind and the temp dropped so quickly during the day we got snow. Anyway, the wind sounded just like the ocean. The trees blew, the leaves rattled and it sounded like waves rushing in and out. I must have heard the sound in my sleep because I had a dream about the ocean. I have had, throughout my life, a reoccurring dream about a river in the Gila. The rocks are flat and red, sometimes trees, sometimes people, sometimes scrub and sand. It differs from dream to dream but its always the same place. This time the river was the ocean. The kids hadn't been to the ocean in a long time, Keira never. They were afraid of it but I bullied and badgered them into going to dip their feet in the surf. I have Keira and in my arms and the older two run ahead. When we get to the surf, however, the waves are twenty feet high and they go over our head. I struggle and fight to surface knowing that while I can hold my breath for a little time, poor Keira's lungs are much smaller and won't last as long. I fight and fight but to know avail. Then I realize that the fighting isn't getting me anywhere and I relax. In that moment, I am so calm, so happy, I have my baby in my arms and I'm drowning.
That's where the dream ends. It was still predawn at that time and I got up and stood outside. The wind was blowing so hard. I was clueless as to what the dream meant but I realized that it wasn't a scary dream, I didn't wake up crying or afraid. Just calm, thankful for the wind, loving my children.
That's where the dream ends. It was still predawn at that time and I got up and stood outside. The wind was blowing so hard. I was clueless as to what the dream meant but I realized that it wasn't a scary dream, I didn't wake up crying or afraid. Just calm, thankful for the wind, loving my children.
28.10.09
Cosmetology... I don't think so
I did a bunch of things with the kids again today. I'm finding more and more often that I'd rather hang with the kids than do my homework. I"m such a mommy. Well we got some liquid latex from a friend of ours and tried very hard to make elf ears by dipping spoons in the liquid latex. We got one that looks kind of like a regular human ear, one that looks like a leper's ear, and one that looks roughly like a deflated boob. I'm not sure what I'm going to tell them. I think they are going to be out of luck this year because I am short on money and even shorter on time. If anyone out there has ideas and/or extra elf ears let me know. Then I got bored with the ears. Its liquid latex so it literally can be categorized with watching paint dry except for the fact that Keira thinks it smells like "buttocks". I think that's her super polite for year old way of saying it smells like ass. I'm staring at one of the mutant flesh colored spoon condoms now. Its mocking me.
We got invited to two Halloween parties this year (four if you count the two we can't get to) and one of them is a birthday party that includes trick or treating in a very cushy-cush neighborhood. I'm happy we'll be going with Becca because I was dreading going alone and Mike wanted to stay home and hand candy out this year. I envy him. So little kid party, some trick or treating and then over to Bill and Rachel's for the "Family Friendly" party. Love it. Did I mention trick or treating in the rich neighborhood?
So after I got bored with the ears I decided to do the other thing I've been promising the kids we'd get to. We dyed their hair. The picture at the top is Donovan's before picture. Now its like 6 hours later and my back is permenantly torqued, my hands are stained various colors and there is a huge dollop of blue on the bathroom floor. Stupid mobile home builders, who puts maroon carpet in a bathroom? Mike always drips on the damn thing coming out of the shower and then I step on it 15 minutes later and think I've stepped in dog piss. Oh? You don't want to hear about wet carpets? You'd rather see the after pictures? ok.
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Building up suspense in an obnoxious way.
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Don't try and adjust your screen. My kids really do have leprechaun green and peacock blue hair. The bottles said "Demi-permanent". I'm not sure what that means. Is it better that semi? Or worse? Who knows. All I know is that my back is killing me and my kids look fantastic. And smart. Did I mention Ari got on the A and B honor roll? Yeah buddy. Blue is code for "Damn I'm smart!"
26.10.09
Catch a Tiger By The Toe
My really sweet older kitty Kizmet has got this really bad regurg issue. We've had her for about 13 years and ever since we adopted her if she ever eats or drinks to quickly she immediately loses whatever it was she drank. When she gets sick she makes this really strange high-pitch mewling noise that is very distinct and I've learned that if I get her when she makes that noise I can get her onto the tile so she doesn't yarf on the carpet. Lately, however, she's started to dash under the bed when I head for her and my maybe-authentic-but-threadbare-persian-rug isn't exactly benefiting from the fact that Kizzle is marking it indelibly with her own personal essence. So it has been an adventure that always starts with the mewl. She mewls. I carefully move forward with my hands up in a gesture of innocence, making noises of my own, "Here kittykittykittykitty. pstpstpst. c'mon sweetie." She eyes me warily and changes position, aiming for the bed. "It's ok, Kizzle, c'mere kittykittykitty." I lunge and she, who is considerably fast for a puking fourteen year old cat, darts out of reach under the bed. I shudder knowing I'm going to have to move that bastard queen to get at the mess.
Today went differently, however. I actually caught her back foot. She couldn't run away, she only has back claws so she couldn't scratch me and she was a little busy yarfing anyway. So I held her by her back leg while she puked onto the thick maroon pile of the almost shag carpeting we have everywhere the Persian isn't. I realized shortly afterwards that cleaning cat vomit off of tightly woven Persian is ever so much easier than out of shag and thanked the goddess she hadn't puked in my bed.
25.10.09
Visual Aids
I have started reading a bunch of pagan mommy blogs and I realized how long its been since I posted pictures of my kids (5 years! Can you believe it!) so I thought I'd add some of the most recent ones.
Ari a little over a year ago
Donovan last May
Ari a little over a year ago
Keira in her Halloween 09 costume
Donovan last MayIts so weird how quickly time flies.
All Things Considered...
and I think that's what happened. I didn't consider all things before posting my previous rant on the injustices of hatred. Some people that I've never met and probably will never meet said some nasty things that hurt my feelings and made me cry. People saying nasty things all the time and it doesn't make me cry. I live for writing workshops and art critiques where people sit in a circle around you and tell you how much you/your art sucks. Tough skin is a trademark of the arts industry. I'm more likely to be offended if my art isn't mentioned at all than if its torn apart because then at least I know its worth the effort of the critique. Shouldn't I have felt the same about PPD? That people mentioned it at all is a GOOD thing, it means we've gotten peoples attention. It means that maybe one person will learn that we aren't evil.
With all that in consideration... what happened?
PMS - Now before you feminists go all crazy on me for being a traitor to the gender, let me explain. I know we've been working to remove the stigma of PMS inhibiting our ability to be rational. I know men have said for centuries that women can't make good decisions because they are led by emotion and not logic. But sisters, I have to be honest with myself. I get PMS. Sometimes its subtle and indiscernable but sometimes its a raging torrent that makes me cry at Disney Vacation commercials. Sometimes I cry because I can't chose between a white cable knit sweater with wide cables and an identical white cable knit sweater with narrow cables. So maybe I freaked out a little. But I'm ok now and I am back to respecting that this is AMERICA and we are given the freedom to voice are opinions even if said opinions are mean.
Dononvan and Ari are watching The Wizard of Oz to Dark Side of the Moon by Pink Floyd. I love that my kids are interested in the same things as me. Distracted much? Uh yeah.
Anyway, back to what I was saying before. In my stories I always have the main character come to this dramatic realization and shift and the workshoppers are always telling me that its not realistic but I just proved them wrong because I had a dramatic shift of opinion. God, I'm boring myself now.
With all that in consideration... what happened?
PMS - Now before you feminists go all crazy on me for being a traitor to the gender, let me explain. I know we've been working to remove the stigma of PMS inhibiting our ability to be rational. I know men have said for centuries that women can't make good decisions because they are led by emotion and not logic. But sisters, I have to be honest with myself. I get PMS. Sometimes its subtle and indiscernable but sometimes its a raging torrent that makes me cry at Disney Vacation commercials. Sometimes I cry because I can't chose between a white cable knit sweater with wide cables and an identical white cable knit sweater with narrow cables. So maybe I freaked out a little. But I'm ok now and I am back to respecting that this is AMERICA and we are given the freedom to voice are opinions even if said opinions are mean.
Dononvan and Ari are watching The Wizard of Oz to Dark Side of the Moon by Pink Floyd. I love that my kids are interested in the same things as me. Distracted much? Uh yeah.
Anyway, back to what I was saying before. In my stories I always have the main character come to this dramatic realization and shift and the workshoppers are always telling me that its not realistic but I just proved them wrong because I had a dramatic shift of opinion. God, I'm boring myself now.
22.10.09
I posted This Article a couple of days ago, so proud that we had found our voice and were able to try and spread a little tolerance into the world. I had heard whisperings and murmurings in the pagan world about comments that followed in the wake of that article but by and large ignored them, suffused with a golden glow of community spirit and pride for humans at large. I was proud that we had made such strides as late in terms of racial and socio-political tolerance. We, as a country, elected the first black man and a woman was in the running. The bias of 'good 'ol boy' politics was seemingly going by the wayside and I had real hopes that religious tolerance would closely follow.
So many of us have differences of opinion. So many of us have contrasting points of view on religion, politics, and race that it has become a cliche to avoid such topics in public. Emotions seem to be tied so closely to those topics that the mind/mouth connection seems to have temporary failure and people spout out the first thing that comes into their angry and indignant mind without first considering the effects their comments will have on others.
Last night I finally gave in to curiosity and started out reading the comments following the article that is posted. Immediately I felt set back. The ocean I was treading had become so thick. I read with burning face the comments people had posted about pagans. Some had called us "deluded", some called us "circus freaks", "freak shows", one person even said we should make amends with the fact that we were "possessed by evil demons". The one that hurt the most was the person who claimed we were only going through a phase and soon we would realize our mistake and come back to the fold. Pagans then started posting back and it became a huge flame war. I read all three pages of comments and realized that one element was missing. No one realized that whatever are religious or political views were, we are people. We have hopes and dreams, secret insecurities and strengths. We eat and sleep, love, hurt, mourn, support, nurture, and express joy the same as anyone else. The comments were quick, brutal, and unemotional as if the commentors didn't realize what they were saying was hurtful. No one backed down, no one side won. It was a neverending, meanspirited, battle of words and it hurt me deeply to read it.
I didn't post a comment, not because I am a better person, but because I didn't want to perpetuate the hate. There was enough anger on that board without me adding my two cents. I considered the comments of both sides all night and still have that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.
No one cares anymore. How is that for a broad generalized statement. The pagans who organized Pagan Pride Day did it in an attempt to educate the general public about paganism and to build bridges between pagans and other religions. But no one wants those bridges. People hate as if the hate itself is the important part, not the group they are hating. It doesn't matter if you are a pagan hating Christians or a Christian hating pagans, the result is the same. That rush of adrenaline, that smug, self righteous attitude that you are better than whoever you are criticizing. I understand the allure of hate. I too have angrily told the Jehovah's Witnesses to stop proselytizing on my front stoop, I have told the panhandlers to stop begging and get a job, I've hated on adulterers and hypocrites, fundamentalists and politicians, pot-smokers and lax parents. It was the hate that made me feel more important, better about myself. It had nothing to do with whether I was right or wrong.
When I lived in Philadelphia I had a coworker who became my friend. She was a gorgeous black woman with beautiful blue eyes and a honest, quick wit. When I told her I was pagan she put her hand on my shoulder and looked at me with concern in her eyes. "Awww, honey. Don't you know you're going to go to Hell for that?" The hate and the judgement were noticebly missing. This was just an honest woman who cared about the status of her friend's soul and that has stayed with me longer than any of the hate mongering I've received because of my religious choices. I appreciated her faith, her honesty, and her caring. She appreciated that once she had made sure I had all the facts, I was an adult and capable of making my own desicions. We never spoke of it after that. She never condemned me, she didn't stop being my friend. She was a good person and I will never forget her. I have often tried to emulate her since then. To be honest, caring, and a friend no matter what choices others make. In the end, it is their choice to make and they are all adult enough to make that choice.
What we need to concentrate on is making sure that we follow the essence of goodness. I can talk all day, spouting cliches about the repercussions of your words and actions being like ripples on a pond or the single beat of a butterflies wings causing a hurricane across the world but those are trite and old and no one listens to them anyway. So instead I chose not to post a comment at all. I came here instead, to get my thoughts in order. To work my way through the pain I felt when reading those hurtful words and to hope one of these days, posts like this won't be necessary for me anymore. Or for anyone.
So many of us have differences of opinion. So many of us have contrasting points of view on religion, politics, and race that it has become a cliche to avoid such topics in public. Emotions seem to be tied so closely to those topics that the mind/mouth connection seems to have temporary failure and people spout out the first thing that comes into their angry and indignant mind without first considering the effects their comments will have on others.
Last night I finally gave in to curiosity and started out reading the comments following the article that is posted. Immediately I felt set back. The ocean I was treading had become so thick. I read with burning face the comments people had posted about pagans. Some had called us "deluded", some called us "circus freaks", "freak shows", one person even said we should make amends with the fact that we were "possessed by evil demons". The one that hurt the most was the person who claimed we were only going through a phase and soon we would realize our mistake and come back to the fold. Pagans then started posting back and it became a huge flame war. I read all three pages of comments and realized that one element was missing. No one realized that whatever are religious or political views were, we are people. We have hopes and dreams, secret insecurities and strengths. We eat and sleep, love, hurt, mourn, support, nurture, and express joy the same as anyone else. The comments were quick, brutal, and unemotional as if the commentors didn't realize what they were saying was hurtful. No one backed down, no one side won. It was a neverending, meanspirited, battle of words and it hurt me deeply to read it.
I didn't post a comment, not because I am a better person, but because I didn't want to perpetuate the hate. There was enough anger on that board without me adding my two cents. I considered the comments of both sides all night and still have that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.
No one cares anymore. How is that for a broad generalized statement. The pagans who organized Pagan Pride Day did it in an attempt to educate the general public about paganism and to build bridges between pagans and other religions. But no one wants those bridges. People hate as if the hate itself is the important part, not the group they are hating. It doesn't matter if you are a pagan hating Christians or a Christian hating pagans, the result is the same. That rush of adrenaline, that smug, self righteous attitude that you are better than whoever you are criticizing. I understand the allure of hate. I too have angrily told the Jehovah's Witnesses to stop proselytizing on my front stoop, I have told the panhandlers to stop begging and get a job, I've hated on adulterers and hypocrites, fundamentalists and politicians, pot-smokers and lax parents. It was the hate that made me feel more important, better about myself. It had nothing to do with whether I was right or wrong.
When I lived in Philadelphia I had a coworker who became my friend. She was a gorgeous black woman with beautiful blue eyes and a honest, quick wit. When I told her I was pagan she put her hand on my shoulder and looked at me with concern in her eyes. "Awww, honey. Don't you know you're going to go to Hell for that?" The hate and the judgement were noticebly missing. This was just an honest woman who cared about the status of her friend's soul and that has stayed with me longer than any of the hate mongering I've received because of my religious choices. I appreciated her faith, her honesty, and her caring. She appreciated that once she had made sure I had all the facts, I was an adult and capable of making my own desicions. We never spoke of it after that. She never condemned me, she didn't stop being my friend. She was a good person and I will never forget her. I have often tried to emulate her since then. To be honest, caring, and a friend no matter what choices others make. In the end, it is their choice to make and they are all adult enough to make that choice.
What we need to concentrate on is making sure that we follow the essence of goodness. I can talk all day, spouting cliches about the repercussions of your words and actions being like ripples on a pond or the single beat of a butterflies wings causing a hurricane across the world but those are trite and old and no one listens to them anyway. So instead I chose not to post a comment at all. I came here instead, to get my thoughts in order. To work my way through the pain I felt when reading those hurtful words and to hope one of these days, posts like this won't be necessary for me anymore. Or for anyone.
21.10.09
Tis The Reason for the Season...
I went shopping today. I got, guess what, yup pumpkins and candy for trick or treaters! I got two medium sized pumpkins, one for me and one for Mike. Then I got three smaller pumpkins for the kids. Tonight will be pumpkin guts mayhem and I love it sooo much! Just the thought of roasting the pumpkin seeds, the ooey-gooey squish of gourd guts, the laughing as Donovan chases the girls around with said gourd guts, the thick sweet taste of egg nog and the spicy bite of hot apple cider, the whirl of power tools... screeech. Whirl of power tools? Yup, you heard me correctly. Mike is bringing his Dremel home from the metal's lab so he can carve his pumpkin. I asked didn't he think that would make his Dremel all... ucky. He hesitated for a minute, the silence on the other end of the line indicating some major coniving on his part. Then he dropped the bomb. "I'll just have to stop by Harbor Freight and pick up a cheapy Dremel then."
Wait. I think I almost missed that. The man wants to BUY a NEW tool so he doesn't ruin his old one when he does his high tech pumpkin mutilation?
I'm almost finished with Keira's costume and I'll post pictures when its complete. I have to create a mopcap and sew some bows on, figure out if I want buttons or ties on the back and then she should be done. I was just sitting here dreaming of buckle shoes for her. I have a similar pattern for myself and I'm thinking of maybe using it this year. I have to get my submission for the English department scholarships first though. I can't blow this chance to lower my loans. So, I'll work on the short story I'm writing called "Red" and finish Keira's costume and then I'll step back and take stock of how much time I have left. If I don't get it done I have a ton of things I can rig in the meantime. That's why its awesome to be a Renn Faire junkie, always lots of costumes lying around.
The Jehovah's Witnesses came back today. I have a sneaking suspicion it was the same woman as last time. I told her very politely... ok maybe I got a little snippy. Anyway, I told her that there were signs clearly posted on every entrance to the park that designated it as a no solicitation zone and whether she understood it or not religious solicitation is still solicitation and could she please stop giving religious tracks to my children when they were out playing by themselves. I didn't actually tell her that last part but I told her not to solicite. She ignored me and went right next door. ARG!!!
Last but not least: I'm following a new blog so make sure you check her out. She rocks. http://mama-blogger.blogspot.com/. Renee has a wonderful sense of humor. She's got kids. That seems to be an important concept for me when it comes to blogs. Mom, English Major, Sense of Humor. Or any combination of the above anyway.
Well, I think that's it for now.
Luna
Wait. I think I almost missed that. The man wants to BUY a NEW tool so he doesn't ruin his old one when he does his high tech pumpkin mutilation?
I'm almost finished with Keira's costume and I'll post pictures when its complete. I have to create a mopcap and sew some bows on, figure out if I want buttons or ties on the back and then she should be done. I was just sitting here dreaming of buckle shoes for her. I have a similar pattern for myself and I'm thinking of maybe using it this year. I have to get my submission for the English department scholarships first though. I can't blow this chance to lower my loans. So, I'll work on the short story I'm writing called "Red" and finish Keira's costume and then I'll step back and take stock of how much time I have left. If I don't get it done I have a ton of things I can rig in the meantime. That's why its awesome to be a Renn Faire junkie, always lots of costumes lying around.
The Jehovah's Witnesses came back today. I have a sneaking suspicion it was the same woman as last time. I told her very politely... ok maybe I got a little snippy. Anyway, I told her that there were signs clearly posted on every entrance to the park that designated it as a no solicitation zone and whether she understood it or not religious solicitation is still solicitation and could she please stop giving religious tracks to my children when they were out playing by themselves. I didn't actually tell her that last part but I told her not to solicite. She ignored me and went right next door. ARG!!!
Last but not least: I'm following a new blog so make sure you check her out. She rocks. http://mama-blogger.blogspot.com/. Renee has a wonderful sense of humor. She's got kids. That seems to be an important concept for me when it comes to blogs. Mom, English Major, Sense of Humor. Or any combination of the above anyway.
Well, I think that's it for now.
Luna
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