:/ part 2

It has been a long couple days. Driving into Shawnee every day and sitting with my mom in ICU. My house work has not been done, my exercising has not been done, not spending much time with the kids, and always on the phone with someone wanting to know something. This morning I cried all morning. Last straw was my husband preparing to go to the weekend for his men's group. I told him I could not make up his mind on what to do. He wanted me to say "stay" or "go" and I told him I wasn't going to say that. I could not say "go" because that would be a lie. I am watching my mother suffer and I am shlepping kids to and fro and I feel bombarded here and I could not say "stay" because then he could come back later with "you made me stay" and "I should have just gone and not listen to you." Been there! Not doing that. I finally did tell him I felt abandoned. Every single time there is something big he runs off and leaves me holding the bag. Like not picking me and his son up from the hospital when were released because something fun came up to do with work!

I cannot tell him to stay or go but I do feel angry he can't see I need him right now. As if this is just another day of normal life. He decided not to go tonight but he "thinks" he will go tomorrow and stay the weekend. As if that helps me! No, no, go ahead! I will do the grocery shopping and sit at the hospital alone, again, alone, AGAIN. And if he tells me I signed up for this again I will bust him in the lip! Nothing more irritating than a man wit two female siblings that take care of ALL family matters that his only child wife signed up for this soul assignment! A big 'ol FUCK YOU wants to be heard from here to Texas!

We will see how this plays out tomorrow. If he goes or stays. Yep, I feel bad about him missing it BUT it is not everyday your wife NEEDS some loving support during a very hard time only child or not.

There are men that drop the weekend for silly petty reasons. He has a legit reason and he might not even use it because everybody is more important than me! So be it.

:/

I am really sad right now. Little numb. Feeling lost. My mother was admitted to ICU after an ambulance brought her to the ER. She could not wake up. We have discovered that her CO2 levels are dangerously high and she has a serious infection.

I am an only child and pretty much alone in this. I spent the evening keeping my shit together so I could converse with the medical staff and my crying aunt and my scattered father. I get home at 1 am to a quiet house and it really dawned on me how alone I am in this moment. I have friends praying for me but I am very alone in the whole ordeal. I thought it was cool how a black family filled up the entire waiting room for their family member in ICU. My dad and I were the only other family there in the waiting room. No one but us. They looked sorry for us. White people just don't support their family like black folk do. Sad really. We are a sad lot.

I am super duper tired and cannot sleep! I should have had a nip before bed!

I really think I deserve some happiness now. Baby taken away and now this. Universe, can you provide me with some giddy school girl happiness? I feel pretty desperate for some! Thanks!

The Life and Times of Shampoo

My whole life I have had a love hate relationship with skincare/hygiene products. It all started when I was little and I put some Avon lotion on my skin and broke out into a horrendous rash creature. I am constantly in search for the right and perfect product. In recent years I have discovered that my products are as dangerous as my food I was eating (the typical American diet/processed crap). When I discovered this I began to search for products that did what I needed. Toothpaste was up first because I kept getting sores in my mouth and the dentist told me to use Colgate Sparkle because it was less harsh than adults. I asked him how that could be because it has SPARKLES in it. He didn't have an answer. Like most other matters in my life I took this one into my own hands. I went looking for the right and perfect toothpaste. If I bought traditional toothpaste I was given doses of fluoride and other terrible chemicals. I had nice teeth though! If I bought the natural toothpaste I had scuzzy feeling teeth and I paid a lot for it, too! I decided to experiment. For the past couple years I use nothing but plain water on most days and my trusty waterpik! When I feel the need I will either brush with salt or baking soda. Sometimes I will doing some oil pulling with coconut oil, brush with baking soda, and use the waterpik. I have not had my teeth cleaned in about 3 years now. They feel cleaner now than they do when I leave the dentist. This made me think about other areas in my life as well.

I deal with constant on again and off again head sores because of shampoo and conditioners. I find one that does not give me sores and my hair feels thick and dirty. I find one that makes my hair feel clean and I get sores. Lately I have been trading the two out to achieve the feeling I want in my hair but attempting to avoid the itchy bumps and sores. Then like a light bulb being turned on in a cave I thought about how I could make my own shampoo!!!

To begin I figured I needed to know the history of shampoo.This week I have been researching that. Along the way I looked into how to make shampoo. I told my kids this and they groaned! They want no part in it. They think I am weird because I quit shaving my pits(itchy bumps no more) and wearing traditional deodorant, the toothpaste, homemade laundry detergent, and various other experiment's along the way. I told them I will leave them out of this. We agreed on a safe toothpaste I will buy for them, and I have given up the deodorant fight and soap fight with them. I now just live by example.

Today was the first experiment day. I washed my hair with only water. I was lying in the tub with my head submerged and let the water just really soak in. I scrubbed my scalp really well. When I got out my hair was a fuzzy fried mess!!! I had to rub coconut oil in it to calm it down. Just plain old water did that. That has the wheels turning for sure.

My mind is whirling with ideas from what I have read already. One being buying soap nuts and boiling them. I might even buy some lavender buds, perhaps lavender oil, for smell and cleansing properties. Marigold and chamomile for healing properties. Who knows where this will go but I am interesting in finding out. Consider this your warning if my hair looks really bad on a day you see me. I am experimenting, again!

It's raining, it's pouring, the old man is snoring....

I love rain! I emphatically love rain. I have rarely cursed the rain. I embrace it with all my being. Night or day. I especially love night time spring rains. Opening the windows to feel the cool breeze, the frogs singing my a bedtime serenade. The sounds of a perfect orchestra lulling me into dream land. The pitter, pat, drip, drap, dribble, drop, tink, plop, and splat of the rain in perfect rhythm to my soul. It knows my name. The wind whispers it. I sit in the dark and bask in the blackness. The void is my sacred space. The unknown. I sit there with the Mother and she tells me stories with the rolling thunder. I breathe in her intoxicating perfume. I can almost feel her arms now wrapping gently, yet firmly, around my body.

I love the peace and the joy. The cry of the coyote mother calling out to her clan. The knowing that I am safe in that moment. I am just as I am to be. I am calm. I am.....

Let it rain. Let it pour. Let the cleansing begin. Let the fear wash away. Let the anger wash away. Let the sadness wash away. Drink in the life and feel renewed. Do not curse your Mother. Sometimes you have to sit in the storm and just be OK with it and let it all go. Breathe deeply and just know it will all be OK because there is nothing wrong with the rain. Don't  fight it, go with the flow.

Good night frogs, good night rain drops, good night breeze, good night Mother. Thank you for another lovely evening. I do enjoy our time together.

Holiday Traditions SUCK ASS...at least it taste like it does

If you are a follower you already know I am not a traditionalist. It is not the holiday itself but the unspoken rules everybody abides by and no one really likes. The food rule is my biggest pet peeve! I absolutely loathe most holiday dishes. Thankfully my food allergies have helped me from ingesting this crap for another meal to keep on the sunny side of every body's ideals. To me squishy white prepackaged rolls are gross, further more a side of greenbean casserole slopped next to it makes me feel queasy. Green rice made with cheez whiz, jars of gravy, and microwave mashed potatoes. Can it get any worse? Maybe a Solent Green wafer could make it worse. You know nobody likes the food when you can't get people to take some home and you are offering up free containers. I was at Walmart the other day and this woman was rattling off her grocery list to her husband, "Yes, I got the stuff for greenbean casserole and the gravy..." as her voice trailed off I cringed. Canned soup, canned greenbeans, canned fried onions on top and no one sees anything wrong with this? That my friend is NOT food. It is a food simulated product. Our tradition's are now wrapped up in bad food simulated products. Few people gather around the table with a salad they chopped, mashed potatoes they peeled/boiled/mashed, cranberry sauce they cooked, bread or rolls from scratch, make the greenbean casserole from scratch with real cream, butter, greenbeans, and mushrooms, and use real cheese! People are living out of a box and can and that is tradition. No one is willing to mix it up and just have a meal, a good meal, with real food with real love poured into it. I feel like a pig at the trough at holiday meals. Waddle up to the bin and eat the slop of miracle whip this and canned that. I feel sick and energy less after the meals. I know it is the food. I have become such a food snob I am really impossible to please for the average American. I want fresh, frozen, and organic. The most processed food I eat are corn chips, real mayo, mustard, Cholula sauce, goat yogurt, and my gluten-free Udi's bread. That is pretty much it.

I am waiting for the day I can have a holiday at my house and I make real food. Oh, wait, I did that. I got bitched at because I didn't have any fancy china to eat from. That made the yummy food taste bad.
It is impossible to make my family and my husband's family happy. I think we should skip food at holidays and just get together for "snacks" and have a visit and be done with it. While we are at it, lets stop celebrating Christian holidays like a Christian-Pagan hybrid and make up new holidays every year and stick with the ones we actually had fun with. I want to stop having a reason for the season and just have fun being with people and doing something I like.

Earth day fiasco!

It's 4pm and I have already poured myself some wine. I just ate my first meal of any kind for the day at 3pm. I just arrived home with 2 bags of ice to keep turkeys cold as they sit in a brine bath for a little over 24 hours. The day started off with nightmares. My consciousness was trying to prepare me for the slaughter of two healthy turkeys so a non-Christian family can celebrate Easter.

I knew this was going to happen. I knew they would be dinner. Why else would you get a turkey? They eat a ton of food everyday. They are not pets by any means. They are big, loud, and harmful to smaller birds. These two were on my hit list for some time. They killed at least one duck that I know of. The rest came up missing the same weekend. I have not seen them since. It was time to make pot pie out of them.

What I didn't know what how badly it would all go. I have this problem of always imagining everything going great, smoothly, without a hitch. I plan it all out. Map it out. I can see from beginning to end the whole process and never a snag. The truth is if it went according to MY plan then it would go more smoothly, but I have someone helping me that likes to procrastinate and do everything in the moment without planning. This always causes tension, stress, anger, and FIASCO! A big fucking fiasco. The kind you cannot talk to each other without saying something mean and of course I am the one saying something mean and with my eyes squinted!

Last night the turkeys were to be locked up alone without food only water to give time for the bowels to clean themselves out! They are also easier to catch when they are contained. I discussed this with my helper and he agreed! He even said he would be right home after his meeting was over at 9pm. He came home at midnight and never made it to the meeting. He went to a friends house instead. When he got home the turkeys were in the rafters of the barn and could not be reached by standing there and it was sooo late that my helper decided to go to bed instead. So I packed up all the dinner I left out and went to bed to thinking this was a bad idea!!!

This morning he decided to catch them one at a time. Turkeys are smart. One watched his brethren get it and he was not going to let us catch him too. There we ALL were, 5 of us, scrambling around the yard. We finally got him pinned into the barn and he slipped into the coop and my helper slammed the door shut before he could escape and the rooster could attack. He came out with an injured adrenaline filled bird (not good) and then discovered he did not fit into his homemade killing cone and had to find rope and hang him up to do it the old fashion way. The poor bird by this time was shaking with fear. I could not watch. I had already felt faint and had to sit down while he butchered the first one.

After we fought over the right way to de-feather a bird (mine was better) and the blood, guts, and poo were cleaned up. Feathers and innards buried under the compost pile and the turkeys were in a cooler with brine I about cried. It was 3pm and I had not eaten yet, one kid needed to get to fencing, my body reeked of dead turkey, and my head was beginning to throb. I am tired and it is mostly stress induced.

I don't think I can continue on with farming that include animals. Even though I enjoy them so much and I relate to them so well, I think the time has come to realize I cannot depend on anybody to help me and therefore I need to set up my farm to work with me. I cannot do it all and I cannot expect others to help me that are not willing to do it right and with respect and love.

This did not feel like respect and love. it felt hostile and rushed. It was going through the motions, sloppily. I think I can only have 6 hens at a time. I can manage that alone. I feel like crying now. This is totally a cry moment. Not to mention I have not seen Spotted Leaf in two days on top of it all. Luckily, a neighbor up the street stopped my dog and called this morning so we could get him back. This is totally a cry moment, sadly, I don't have time. I need to get ready for class. A much needed diversion!!!

Who in the hell are you any ways???

Good question! I ask myself that a lot nowadays! I can honestly say I am not sure. I look in the mirror and I see a stranger. I hear myself speak and wonder who said that. I feel like a stranger to myself. Why is that? I am wondering if I ever knew myself and wondering if anybody ever does. Is this some bullshit brought on by media that we need to "find" ourselves and "know" ourselves or do we really need those pieces to feel satisfied.

Last few months I lie in bed looking up at my ceiling listening to my husband snore and wonder about myself. I think this sounds very selfish. I am queen of putting myself last. I feel guilty or get grief from others when I do take care of myself, yet not one single person in this house has feelings of guilt when they do their own thing, even when it interferes with someone else's plans. Basically, I feel like I don't exist in my own home most of the time. I am here to wait on people, take care of their needs, and not expect that for myself. My husband says that is all in my head because he "let's" me do whatever I want without complaint. True, he does not verbally complain. Just passively aggressively punishes.

Who the fuck am I? I feel like I have opened Pandora's box and I am afraid to peek in and I know I can't close it. I am a confused mess with a bottle of wine and no one to share it with. I never wanted to admit this but I am going to just to get it off my chest. I am a desperate housewife and I am friends with desperate housewives and I honestly think we are all fooling each other about those fakey fake smiles we wear.

Otherwise we wouldn't sit around and dream about pool boys, road trips without our husbands, and wish we had something else going on in our lives besides being a Mrs. X with absolutely no job skills and no confidence about the future.

What a life! No prospects, no confidence, lonely, lost, and used up. You know what, I feel like a book that was left in the rain and all the writing washed away leaving ink blots and the blank book was picked up by someone that cannot write! I guess it will be a picture book for now.

People of the past

With all this soul searching comes a remembering of the past. This brings up memories that are good and bad. Luckily, I have been thinking of some good memories along with the bad. I was thinking about how my Grandma (ma-maw) called me "Pun-kin" and how my Uncle Gene called me Rudy. How my grandfather (pa-paw) always smelled like whiskey and was usually drunker than a skunk, he always treated me with love, "Come here, Rudy, give yur pa-paw a kiss." I would always refuse because you usually wanted a kiss after he had been on a drinking binge for a couple weeks and had not showered that whole time. The rest of the time he was lucid and would show me John Wayne movies, feed me cheddar cheese, and a glass of icy cold Coke. He would sing his made up songs, show me the new tricks the dogs had learned while I was away in Kansas, and play his banjo, mandolin, or guitar. Once I got to see him in a commercial in Kansas about the Great Smokey mountains. It was a montage of Dollywood, mountain pictures, and the like. When I would go visit him, Uncle Gene and the rest of the family in Tennessee, we would go to at least one square dance. Every time my uncle or my grandfather would announce to the whole place, Rudy from Kansas City, was there and soon I was dancing about with strange men. One I remember vividly. He was around for several years before he finally died sometime before my teens. His name was Snake. He was a short man, wiry, gaunt, and reeked of moonshine. He was toothless and had jail tats on his arms. He was the one that would grab my arm first, always. He never forgot me from year to year. The men could not drink, it was a dry county, so they would all complain of ulcers and drink moonshine, whiskey, and mixed drinks in their used Milk of Magnesia bottles that were opaque. I remember coming home with mason jars of moonshine in coolers after our trip. Besides all the fun and games there were plenty of ups and downs. When Grandpa was drunk he would yell and scream and call my mom "a big fucking bitch" and ask my dad what he saw in her. He clearly did not like my mother one bit. He would also sit with a shot gun next to his chair so he could blow his head off. Above the chair were many drunken attempt holes in the ceiling. This was nothing new to my father. He had dealt with this everytime he got drunk. This was the reason Grandma (ma-maw) left him (twice) along with the fact he was a completely unfaithful. My father was greeted almost every vacation with back breaking work my grandpa had waiting for him or rushes to the ER because he was dying (he wasn't.) My dad always said he needed a vacation after visiting his father. My dad was a doer that got the work done and my grandpa knew it too!

I miss my uncle calling my first two children "pot lickers." Uncle Gene was an interesting fellow. He was a talker. He would talk your ear off. He was every body's friend. He played in a few bands traveling around the south to various venues. I was told he funeral was completely packed FULL. I was unable to go. He decided it was time to check out while I was pregnant with my third child. I watch old Jim Varney movies to "hear" Uncle Gene. They sounded exactly alike! They both died alike, cancer, both avid smokers until the end.

As for my grandmother (ma-maw), well, she was more than a vacation visit. She was my life. She always lived nearby. She was the best grandmother. She taught me how to cook. Every once in a while someone in the family will say, "Grandma would be proud to know you actually cook from scratch." She had to, she was a coal miners wife. Her soul was literally owned by the company store. Grandpa racked up quite a bill by getting fixin's for moonshine and leaving her with three hungry kids. Once my father was born she decided it was no life for her son and she did not want her daughters marrying miners. She came to Kansas City with my dad and earned enough money to go back and get the girls. That is the short story, of course, because she had to pay off the company store and to do that she lived in the mountains in a dirt floor shack and grew her own food. She had a rough life and was one tough cookie. She was tiny, wiry, and was not afraid of her shot gun! Which she was know to pull out and aim at men in the family from time to time, loaded.

My life is very calm and serene compared to the past lives of my kin! Perhaps, I should keep it that way. Makes for great stories but not fun to live. Trust me.

Sappy girls....

I am in the middle of a book recommended to me. The Evolution of Calpurnia Tate. A little girl in a house of brothers and a gruff grandfather that no one talks to except Calpurnia discovers he is not so bad after all. He teaches her science and she discovers she loves learning this more than her girly duties of needlework, knitting, and fancied up appearances. 

In one section she speaks about her friend Lulu and her "mouse work" of knitting and needlework skills. Calpurnia thinks it is boring and droll but Lulu excels at it. I can so relate. In my little group of homeschool mothers I am the only one that does not knit. I can crochet simple blocks but I cannot make complex patterns. I get bored and set it down. It is very time consuming and SLOW. I cannot stand knitting. I have had several friends attempt to teach me and they leave more frustrated than i am doing it and I hate it! No one offers to teach me anymore. They have learned a valuable lesson. What that lesson is I do not know but I am sure a valuable one!

I wonder what kind of brain it takes to knit? My friends seem to have it. They seem to "get it" to the point strangers ask them where they bought their scarves, cowls, sweaters, etc... One has traveled with others and was paid to work in booths at conferences and she is attending yarn school soon.

I have never been much of a girly girl. I am always in awe of girly girls, or as Calpurnia says, "sappy" girls. Ones that primp and fuss about that last little hair. they pick at their clothes to get off that tiny piece of thread that even a hawk could not see. Dressing inappropriately to activities; fancy sandals or high heels on a hike/long walks, evening looking dresses to amusement parks. Make-up to the pool and fuss about water getting on their face (even old ladies do this at the pool) or fixing up your hair like it was your first date to go swimming. It is like a logic was thrown out with the bath water! I like to dress up but I don't have much occasion for it. I am not going to be silly and dress up to go to the park. I think jeans, yoga pants, and shorts are ideal for my daily lifestyle. I dress for function.

I also find most "girl" activities a complete drag. I would rather be out shooting arrows than painting my nails. I remember my mom begging me to put on a dress for Easter. Oh how I hated all those ruffles and those terrible scratchy fabrics. Tight, miserable, and you couldn't do a damn thing. "Don't you go outside and get muddy!" Well why the hell not? Mud was far more satisfying to wear than some stiff frock with bows, buttons, and lace. They never came in nice colors either. Always pastels; powder puff gagging blue, pasty yellow, pitiful pink, and god I am going to throw up sea foam green!

If that was not bad enough you always had painful patent leather shoes that would scuff if you looked at them harshly. You really couldn't walk in those boards covered with shiny pleather!
They were only meant to be seen in those staged photos sitting on a dirty gray carpet that some kid most likely peed on and a fake washed out scenery with a stuffed bunny in your lap.

Some of my girly girlfriends talk about getting together to do hair and make-up and I cringe when I hear this. Why can't we get together and smoke some meat, tie-dye some shirts, and dig a pond?
I find it hard to fit in. I am not manly enough to hang with the men and sometimes not girly enough for the women. Oh where oh where does my weirdo fit in?

I have no point. Just stating I am not sappy.

Shallow can you go?

A friend (same non-crier that went to the party) complained about how women are shallow. I have thought about this as well. My husband for the longest time said I was hard to get along with and this is why I had a hard time finding friends. No, women are shallow, vain, mean, and cruel. Women know this about women and we do not feel safe with women because of that. When you are not a woman that plays those games it is hard to fit in with those that do. When you give up even a piece of the game you are shunned to the corner. You are labeled! You are "one of those people."

I see women all the time trying to fit into a clique that is obsessed with nails, make-up, fashion, and weight. When one of them strays they are banned from coming back. I have even seen this play out in other ways as well. Religions, beliefs, etc... You can find this going on all the time with women. It is harsh and sometimes hard to get along with them. Women, for the most part, do not make good friends. I think this is why so many women are clingy to their man. They need bonding and friends but you cannot trust your shallow and vain peers.

It has taken YEARS for me to find women that are done with the bullshit. A few of us have quit shaving our pits, many quit wearing make-up, many of us could careless if you think we are fit enough, pretty enough, or fashionable enough. Life is too short to care what another woman thinks. And it is all really for other women. Most straight men could care less what kind of shoes you wear with certain outfits. They only care about how fast they can get you out of said garments.

I have no time for vain women in my life. Pushy, bossy, conformists bitches can go to hell. I am going to wear my ugly Birkenstock, skip the mascara, and not shave my pits. I don't care what my man wears either. I don't care how he wears his hair. Get over it and get a life!!! Because when you die you will wish you spent more time getting to know those fabu people you shunned and spent more time loving those with "bad fashion sense."

The crying game....

....to cry or not is the question.

I have been giving this a lot of thought for a long time because I am a non-crier. I don't drop tears at the drop of a hat. I deal with the situation and if I need to cry I do, end of story. I don't cry in front of people because I was taught it is a sign of weakness, but other than that, I do cry when needed. When my son was in the hospital and the e-ray was showing black blobs and the MRI had to wait until morning and he was crying in his sleep in the hospital and I was 9 months pregnant, I cried. When my grandmother died in my arms, when my mother was life flighted, when my dog of 12 years died in my arms, I fuckin' cried. I did it in front of the vet that administered the serum to help him transition. When the state came to take back my adopted son I cried then too. I cry. I sometimes cry after sex because my emotions are going haywire and the energy inside needs to escape! I don't, however, cry frivolously. I do not cry when I get a ticket, or the washer quits, or (fill in the blank.) I didn't cry when Micheal Jackson died, Princess Diana, or Liz Taylor. I didn't cry when some of my family died. I am not heartless and cold. I am just not one of those women that cry. My aunt cried over cards, chipped nail polish, and presents. My mother too. It always annoyed me how much some women cry and why didn't I.

Then the other day a friend complained about going to a party and the host started crying and everybody spent about an hour or two helping her through it and her voice was very annoyed and she rolled her eyes. She shrugged and said, "what ya gonna do? We had to stay even though I wanted to come home."
I really started thinking about this crying issue more. This friend of mine is a non-crier as well. I have many friends of both crier and non-crier. I started to think what is different.
Then it hit me. All my crier friends are either single childless or single with 1 child or married childless or married with 1 child. All my non-crier friends have more than one child, married or not. I told my husband about this and his thoughts on the matter was, "You have a different perspective on the matter than they do." True, that is obvious. I wonder now does having more than one kid and dealing with the day to day stress of having more than one plus all the ins and outs of life make us realize that it is not worth the time, effort, and ugly face to cry because it actually was a good day all in all. No one got stitches, bruise, or bled.

I could be wrong and I could be right. That doesn't really matter because life is full of opposites and that is that. I think being a non-crier is just fine. Nothing wrong with it. When I need a pick me up I head over to my friends that have 2+ kids and we laugh our asses off for hours. Laughing is far more healing than crying anyways! :P*

A friend read this Hafiz poem to me the other day:

There is a Beautiful Creature
Living in a hole you have dug.
So at night
I set fruit and grains
And little pots of wine and milk
Beside your soft earthen mounds,
And I often sing.
But still, my dear,
You do not come out.
I have fallen in love with Someone
Who hides inside you.
We should talk about this problem-
Otherwise,
I will never leave you alone.

I read this to my husband this morning and he remarked, "Yep, that's you. Don't let people in. You put your walls up." The was the whole conversation. If you know him you know I am not exaggerating. Later i discover a video of Pink/P!nk singing So What. I watched the video and was laughing my ass off at certain parts. Hubby walked in to see what I was laughing about. I replayed the video and he watched it and said again, "Yep, that's you!" End of conversation. I realized quite some time ago that we are polar opposites of each other. What I am coming to grips with is the fact that I need to not worry about him. Not think about what he thinks or what he does and do and be myself.

Tonight I tried something I do not do, ever. Finished the dancing I started with him watching. I cut loose. My youngest and I danced to MC Hammer then I danced to a couple Stray Cat songs, and sang way too loud and in his face (that part he is use too) and I did this so long sweat began to trickle down my face. I normally begin to dance and he gives me a weird look and I quit. Tonight, I got the weird look AND I even got Hubby to dance with our son and myself for about half the song before he ran out of the room. Making progress for us both. Now to get him to do it again. ;) As for myself, there is not stopping me now. I quit listening to music about 10 years ago and tuned in NPR and audio books in the car. Today I bought a $50 iTunes card just for me with my birthday money. Yay for me and my boogie butt moves.
As for the Pink song So What, well, yeah, I am just that naughty sometimes. Just watch the video on Vevo, OK?

blah blah blah....

This is what I do to pass the time between dark and light while alone and awake. I write. I have written far more than this. I have journals full of started stories, poems, and feelings. Lately I have been working with someone to help me along my path. My stubborn mule that rambles along in my world has made life a tad difficult. Oh, I own him. That mule is mine. We are very close. So close we do not realize we are one. We like to pretend we are independent and separate but there is always someone there to remind me that I am the MULE and the MULE is me! Together we form a strong partnership of, "you can't make me!!!"

Ah, yes, my inner child screams that a lot. YOU CAN'T MAKE ME!!!! She is so loud that it breaks glass. This little person is also part of my web. She is tucked away most of the time, until she puts on the mule costume and saunters out on stage to scream, "YOU CAN'T MAKE ME!!!" Then she runs back into her dressing room and throws on her overalls and pretends someone else got on stage.

I fear I am sounding a bit like Sybil. I am not. I am just diving deep into my soul and searching for all those lost pieces of the puzzle that makes me up. ( I hope no one minds I am pulling a Hemingway at the moment. It is terribly late and the bottle was begging to be finished off.) Where was I? Oh, yes, I know. I am not crazy. I have had many experiences that were not pleasant and I bottled them up and pretended they did not happen and now those experiences are a big box of ugly colored crayons coloring up my life with muddy pictures. What I want is a clean slate and a new box of crayons to clean up my story board!  First off, I have a terrible time speaking with people. It is very hard. I am a keen observer. I see, hear, smell, and taste life all around me. I pick up on cues from the million micro expressions on peoples faces. The ones they think they are hiding but they are not. I SEE YOU! I just keep you from seeing me!

It is no wonder my husband cannot predict my response to any given moment in time. He doesn't know me and it is my fault. Oh now, let's not get emotional here. I am not being self-deprecating here. I am just stating a fact. Owning my shit, as "they" say.

Time to think even more. Let my introvert rise to the occasion and THINK. My extrovert wants to sleep because the wine has made her drowsy and unable to think.

Until next time....

Waiting....

Many many moons ago, before the birth of my oldest son, I bought a plain paperback book titled One Hundred and One Famous Poems. A beige reprint from a 1958 book. It was my first real book on poetry. It's all marked up with scribble lines and highlighter markers of different colors. My favorite poem in the book says "FAV #1" and has blue crayon, green and yellow highlighter markers, and a few strokes of pencil and ball point pen. The highlighter came later because my son and the poet share the same birthday 159 years apart. His words speak volumes to my soul. It did then and it does now.

WAITING
by: John Burroughs (1837-1921)

SERENE, I fold my hands and wait,
Nor care for wind, nor tide, nor sea;
I rave no more 'gainst time or fate,
For, lo! my own shall come to me.

I stay my haste, I make delays,
For what avails this eager pace?
I stand amid the eternal ways,
And what is mine shall know my face.

Asleep, awake, by night or day,
The friends I seek are seeking me;
No wind can drive my bark astray,
Nor change the tide of destiny.

What matter if I stand alone?
I wait with joy the coming years;
My heart shall reap where it hath sown,
And garner up its fruit of tears.

The waters know their own and draw
The brook that springs in yonder height;
So flows the good with equal law
Unto the soul of pure delight.

The stars come nightly to the sky;
The tidal wave unto the sea;
Nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high,
Can keep my own away from me.



I have been feeling a stirring lately. An unrest. I deep seated disgust at everything. I am feeling like a little kid squirming in their seat! The caged bird, the chained dog, and fenced in wild beast. I am through with hibernation. I am ready to scream like a hawk as I soar through the air. I am ready. I am ready!....
"The stars come nightly to the sky;

The tidal wave unto the sea;
Nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high,
Can keep my own away from me."

Watch out.......I'm back!!!

Hear me ROAR!

I am not happy right now. I am very very angry. Explosive, volatile, my hair is wicking lava from the core of my being. I am so disgusted with marriage life I could, as my mother always says, "Spit nails!"

I am unable to find the love. I have only venom. I am a woman with rage, piss in her veins, and grit in her eye. I am hell bent and looking for trouble. I am at full tilt trouble machine. I can remove genitals with my steely glare alone!

Why should I be expected to work and perform like Superman, um, superWOMAN, and the man in my life can flake off and be Homer?

"Yes, sir, I knew what I was doing. If you had lived with him you would have done it too! I bet ya a dollar you would have done it sooner!"

I guess it is time to put on my big girl panties and FIX all the mishaps and sweep his retardation under the rug until the next time. A woman's work is never done! Never done, I tell ya!

And just for the record I didn't get to say this enough so I will say it here, "FUCK YOU!" "Can't believe  you!"  and my favorite, "KISS MY FUCKIN ASS!"

Now I will take my drunk ass to bed and resort to ignoring him until next week. NIGHT! 

just between you and I....

This week my husband I sat down to go over our birth charts and to talk about the children's as well. It is good to remind ourselves that some of our children's quirks are guided by the stars, moons, and planets above. It helps to take the stress off dealing with them. As one is an airhead, one is moody, and one is completely concerned with his looks and nothing else. It was the part when we got to ourselves that I actually had a twinge I wanted to be someone else.

My husband has a sign that makes the opposite sex swoon for him and boy howdy do they! His sign also brought up already known knowledge that he is not a communicator and how everybody loved him! Again, not news to me. When I heard mine I wanted to push my husband out of his spot and take it over.


"often feel a little "different" or "special" throughout life. They often feel like they are on the outside looking in"
I often feel like the odd duck. Not athletic nor does my body reflect that. Not boisterous and outgoing. Not humble and plain. Not religious, pious, or celibate. I have never really known my "place" in the scheme of thing. I hang out with women and think, "I am not like them." I hang out with men and think, "I am soooo not like them!!!" I hang out with kids and say, "Ahhhhh, get me the fuck out of here!!!" and don't get me started on smelly old people with bad attitudes. 


I am not a crunchy granola type either. I like whole fresh foods and low sugar and I LOVE meat and I LOVE veggies. I crave coconut anything; oil, milk, flakes, etc... I don't recycle everything but I do not use poisons and I never buy paper towels or use chemicals. I am not either one or the other. I am me. I should be happy with my original self but it would be nice to have people drool over me like they do hubby and it would be nice to not be referred as  the "weird one." It would be nice to have people praise me like they do my hubby when he walks in the room like people do to me when I walk into his territory. 


Is there a solution here? Yes, for me to quit giving a flying fuck and move on. Stop having unrealistic expectations. Like stop expecting my son to give up his fashion sense because it drives me crazy helping him find the right clothes. Stop expecting my airy fluffy "uh, did you say something?" son to balance out and get grounded to Earth. Stop expecting my watery, bitchy moody, and bossy son to be placid, calm, and reserved, sometimes. Stop expecting I can change the girl that sat for hours, days, and weeks with a fringe pillow balanced on her head to watch TV. Stop expecting my flair for unusual and non-typical white folk clothing to abruptly change to calm beiges and creams with a side of dark navy blue. Stop expecting my body shape will change, or my feet will be less wide and duck like, or I will finally get graceful and not lumbering. 


I am the bull in the china cabinet, the witch with a wart, the odd duck, the ungraceful ballerina, the hopeless romantic, the jeans with the fly sewn shut, and the moth in the cupboard. I am not perfect. I can only be me and that is good enough. That is the only thing I can be. I am stuck with me, like it or not. I might as well learn to like, er, I mean, LOVE ME! 

Black Beauty....

In the early months of our relationship my husband akin me to horses. He has such a love for the beasts and such undying admiration for their beauty that he used those descriptions on me. I was greatly appalled and deeply wounded someone would call me an animal! I even refused him if he called me "dear" because it sounded too much like "deer." I was young, hot headed, and these terms of endearment were not open for discussion.

The subject never came up again. In our 20 years together, I have taken time to learn about myself and not spend so much time shooting down all the doves and hawks that enter into my forest of misfits.
In that time I discovered how close we are to the beastly world and how interconnected we all are. I am connected to the spider, snake, horse, and mule! I am the dog, the cat, the fish, and the rat! I am all that and more. This is our human experience and I was asleep missing out. My husband instinctual and unconsciously saw the real me. He was trying to express his emotions the best he could being a tender young boy in love.

Today I had an epiphany. I am a wild mare. Beautiful, strong, and completely undomesticated. My sweet innocent man-boy knew this about me from the get-go. He knew what he was getting into before he signed up. He knew I was fiery, moody, and timid. He knew something about me I didn't know, yet.

There is not point to my lightbulb moment except that I had one. I am truly blessed my "cowboy" has been able to hang on tight and ride this "bucking bronco" this long. Not sure weaker men could have done so well!

is it worth it?

I just read an article, like many before it, the jest was your attitude is the deciding factor on how long you live. Anybody that has spent any time at all studying "new age" foo-foo spirituality all know this to be true. We have all heard the saying "mind over matter." It is exactly that! You decide in your mind. I like to add a twist and say, "and the rest don't matter."

I am 36. When I was young that seemed like a very old age to be. I am now looking at it saying, "I have just begun!" I am ready for getting older, in numbers, and wiser with years. I am ready for the fun journey ahead. Yet, many of my peers are fearing it to the point they are saying extremely negative things that make me cringe. I cringe not for me, but for them. for what they are creating in their life by constantly saying and thinking about this ridiculous fear.

"I don't want to get old." Solution: Die young.
"I am an old lady" Result: You will be in a nursing home at 55-65 when everybody else is still active.
"My body just keeps falling apart." Result: It will get so bad you can't fix it and then whine some more.
"I don't want wrinkles or gray hair." Solution: Dye your hair and get a face lift and be laughed at behind your back because you look ridiculous because we KNOW you are old by looking at the rest of you or die young."
"The older I get the sicker I get."
"The older I get the worse it gets."
You get the picture. Yep, you are creating your life, your world, your experiences.

I see it all the time on Facebook. This constant complaining and it is always negative. What is wrong with getting older? What is wrong with embracing life? I decided long ago, as a child, I wanted to get old. I loved how old lady's hands felt. I liked the stories they had. I liked their gray hair. I do not fear age and it shows.

While many of my 30-something peers take medications for blood pressure, heart meds, blood sugar controlling meds, allergy meds, and pain killers galore I take none! I am overweight, yes, I do get headaches at times (stress related/physical or mental) and at times have some allergy issues.
I, on the other hand, go to the doctor rarely and I keep a positive outlook on my future. I don't dwell on the fear I revel in the joy of getting older and it shows.

It is unsettling though when I finally go to the doctor and they are surprised I take no medications. They are surprised that being overweight I have great blood pressure and my sugar levels are OK. They are surprised, period.

When did being 36 become old to the masses? Well I am not buying it. I am not going to be swindled out of life to please the masses.

I am going to live and I state every single day of my life, "Everyday my life gets better and better. I feel better everyday. I am more active and healthier everyday. Life is great! I look forward to getting older!"

And you know what? 36 is way better than 30 and 30 was way better than 20 and....

.....it just keeps getting better!

There is something about the wilderness....

There is something about the wilderness....
....at night
 feel like a sunken ship
 freely confined in darkness
charmed, seduced, and scared of the unknown
croaking and chirping frogs
 deep hooting owls
the cry of the coyote
the breathlessness of the moment
There is something in the the movement of the moon
 the glow
 demon eyes lurking about
a growl and hiss of quarrelling cats
the ridiculous safety of your nylon tent and the broken zipper
 thrilling anxious exciting adrenaline rush
there is something about the wilderness...
....at night

Permaculture hate it or love it.....

It is no secret that I am going for my permaculture design certificate. Some would say I am biased. I would have to agree! I am biased. I see permaculture has our ticket out of the woods. Right now we are Hansel and Gretel looking for our way out of the scary dark woods with mean witches and hungry wolves lurking nearby and some damn bird ate our bread trail back home! Permaculture gives us a permanent trail back that no bird can eat.

People ask me all the time what permaculture is. It is complicated. It boils down to a system of working the land that mimics nature and it is a lifestyle. Hence the name PERMA = permanent and CULTURE = agriculture. It is like Victory Gardens on steroids. It takes work to get the system in place, hence the design part, and once functional you spend minimal amount of time gardening. It was explained to me via a DVD of permaculture guru Geoff Lawton, traditional agriculture/gardening requires 99% working and 1% thinking and permaculture is 99% thinking and 1% working (once you get your system up and running.)
Permaculture is nothing new. It was Mollison and Holmgren that coined the term in the late 60's early 70's. They incorporated ways of the past that worked and rediscovered knowledge and set out educating people how to save the planet, better yet, how to save human kind from itself. The planet will survive and heal itself.

I see one flaw with permaculture and that would be humans. We are lazy for one. We have decided through many decades of white collar, even blue collar city living, that working the land is somebody elses job. Even poor people with nothing to eat living near a plot of land wait for somebody else to do the work of feeding them. We are fast food, boxed and canned food, already chopped up fruits and veggies lazy ass group of animals. We are so domesticated we cannot survive on our own out in the real world. Would rather parish than to save our own asses! The second problem with permaculture is humans, again. We are so fucking vain! We think following nature and letting things grow as they truly need to is "messy" and "ugly" and the excuses carry on and on. We expect nature to live by the asinine linear rules we set forth. Gardens are square and we all must have perfect manicured lawns. The grass shall not exceed a height of 3 inches and should be watered, fertilized, and poisoned on a regular duly scheduled appointment! Nothing shall fuck with our linear lifestyle, our vanity, and our lack of healthy outdoor work ethic by God!

 We need to accept that we are animals, we are lazy, vain, and arrogant and until we do there is no hope. We need to accept the fact we have to do things differently. We have to work with nature and not against her. We need to let nature work for us and not always trying to make something work that cannot.

We must learn the old ways, learn the new ways that are being perfected, and get to work ditching the perfect lawn and flower gardens and get busy growing food. With proper planning a quarter acre can produce 6,000lbs of food a year (based on an urban farmer in Ca). Imagine what you can do? Think of all the healthy foods you can grow and eat and share!

There is too much to post about permaculture at this moment to satisfy your desire for more. I am just a lone wolf out here calling out to my brothers and sisters a mournful warning and hoping you take heed and call back that you heard me and are going to do your part. We need to change and that is all there is to it. it must happen for all of us to survive!

Other than fun....

Recently, an email list serve of a multicultural group, I belong to started to post again. My first gut reaction was dread. I was really liking the fact that we were not discussing anything. No classes. No nothing. I really liked the peace it provided by being dead.

Then the email came through to asks us all to respond to the idea of a class forming. I literally rolled my eyes as I read the email. I ignored it and went on my happy way until someone contacted me by phone and said I had yet responded. I explained to them why and they told me to post it. I did. After I posted it the emails flowed in with the tell tale "OUCH!" meaning the people reading my explanation did not like something I said. Then I remembered why I dreaded the group even more.

The jest of what I said was I was not interested in coming to another meeting with privileged white guys talking about minorities. I was one of only 3 women that would show up to the meetings. One meeting I was the only woman. Anybody that has met me will tell you I am not a typical woman. I meet women all the time, trust me, I am not one of those. The other 2 women were not very typical either. In fact most typical women would not come to a meeting full of men to talk about cultural issues. Nope, wouldn't happen. Tell me how that was being multicultural? We had a couple white men that are gay, but if they had not said anything you would not know they were gay, just more privileged white men.

I spoke on how it was not a multicultural meeting with a bunch of white guys. I applaud them for wanting to learn more about other cultures. They need a different approach. Further more they need to stop being so fucking sensitive. Being weepy, ouchy, and touchy does not make you look sincere. It makes you look guilty and remorseful. If you have not acted inappropriate to said minorities and cultures then why get so upset? We all must work through our journey. We all must create our lives. I cannot and will not be responsible to a group of people that have let their culture be a chip on their shoulder and their reason for being irresponsible themselves. Granted, I know there are people out there that hate people. Law of attraction states that those with like thoughts attract. There are gays out there that have never been harassed. Blacks never treated badly. Women never raped. Etc....

Why? Because they never believed in it. They did not concentrate on it. They did not let the injustice of other rule their life. They remained steadfast in their beliefs that all is well and life is great and they have it. Meanwhile, their friends and family have terrible incident after terrible incident. They can only see and feel the pain and they keep getting more of what they expect and believe.

I cannot and will not be brought down to hold space for these people. I am not about to let my good life be compromised for those that cannot be responsible for their life and create something better.

Does this mean I am always treated fairly because I think good happy thoughts? No, it does not. There are those that hate women, gays, blacks, Mexicans, Indians, and even white males. This just means I need to separate myself from the situation and not return. I shall create my world and realize that my thoughts attracted that negative situation and move on. I can avoid those haters. It is possible.

Having a group that passes around videos of women getting raped, black people shooting themselves, and what ever horrifying bullshit they can come up with to sit around and whimper, "Oh my, ain't it awful. You poor thing." Or remarking with "ouch" every damn time someone speaks their truth is quite honestly the biggest waste of time and energy in my opinion.

I cannot and will not sit around always having men tell me what I can and cannot say because it is not right to my own gender. I was reprimanded because I said "chic." Give me a fucking break. Has that what human society has come to? So sensitive we can't use slang? one man in group meeting said the men shouldn't cuss in front of "the ladies."  I was thinking, "What the fuck, who let ladies in here?"

I have a really hard time dealing with those men particular. They are very obnoxious to speak with. I hold my tongue and bottle my rage quite often. In fact, I did the other day as well. I have decided that I am going to leave the group. That kind of energy I feel does not create love and joy. It only makes me hate men more. They only speak about wanting to know others but what they really want is an "ain't it awful" group where they can tell me I am wrong and they are right. There are no discussions, just always tell me I am wrong for being me.

Time to move on from a dysfunctional group. I can treat people respect when they deserve it. People need to man up and be responsible for themselves and stop waiting for the rest of us to change for you. Find the people opposite of you that enjoys you and begin there. Stop trying to reason with dolts. I am! Not going to say another word to any one on that list. I am ending the cycle of bitchy, touchy, menopausal, grouchy, know it all "save the world" white men!

unseen achievements

Much of what i do day in and day out can be categorized as unseen achievements. Little things i do day in and day out that improve the lives around me that no one notices. Dishes, laundry, cleaning rooms, etc... From an outsider it may look as if I do nothing at all but it is hard to maintain my sanity and my house at the same time. This use to bother me but now I know that it is the person not in touch with reality that has the issue. I cannot wash dishes as I paint, sew, or take a hot bath and read.

Lately I have found myself feeling the same way about my yard. Feeling overwhelmed and quite embarrassed. I have so many outdoor projects and so little time, stamina, and fortitude to feel confident in getting it all done by myself. After raking 2 hours and digging 2 hours you cannot tell i did a damn thing. I can see what I have accomplished in those 4 weeks of digging hour here and an hour there. I now have a garden bed for my sweet potato slips that will arrive in May. Right now it looks like a mess. I am now covering it with raked up dried grass from the field to keep wind from carrying off my soil. Messy. I have the area that use to be the pool that i want to dig to make a pond. i have the area where i am raking to clear out and put down a cover crop to amend the soil. I have trees to cut down so i can begin the cover crop and the rest of the raking. I also have my garden and my seedlings. I am planning a keyhole garden for strawberries. I am going to plan a food forest for my class project. I want a green house/ chicken coop for the winter. See? Overwhelmed! I got one down and others in motion. My legs ache from the constant squatting, my hands are cramping from the grip needed on the rake and shovel. my arms are sore from the lifting of dirt on a shovel. My back hurts because the full wheelbarrow fell over full of dirt. I am not complaining, just stating the facts. I am willing to pay the price to get the job done. I love this work of transforming the land into something more productive. I only wish people could see my achievements rather than my bruises, funny "back is killing me" walk, and the cuts and pokes and dripping blood. I would like to have something to show for my work.

In time, grasshopper, in time. i will have something to show. Until then know I am busting my ass and doing my best with my 5 foot tall self. Know i will have SOMETHING to show for it someday. Just believe me when I say, "I really just need to rest." It is not a cop out or that I am acting old. I just really need to rest!

speaking of which.....night! I am beat!

The not knowing.....

Today I saw a look that I have been given so many times before by different people in my life. I call it "the look" because this the only description I can give for what happens when some people talk to me. I now understand what "the look" means. For years I was not sure why people would look that way at me. It was not until a couple brave people spoke about "the look" that it finally was understood.

I was always getting "the look" from my painting/artist mentor. One day when she walked around to my easel and saw what I was doing she gasped and said, "All those times I was talking I thought you were not getting it and you got it all!"

Another time someone in my life read something I had written and said to me in amazement, "I did not know you were so intelligent." I still get "the look" from this person. I think they have forgotten what I had written that awed them so.

I get a lot. I hear between the lines. I see the unseen. I observe. I connect on levels most people cannot begin to think about. I am aware. I am not dim witted and dull. I get it and so much more. The problems lies with the fact I have had years and years of training of pretending to be dumb because it was safer to be dumb than smart. I saw how people treated smart kids and I was not going to have any part of that! I kept my poetry writing a secret, my Shakespeare reading in the dark, my love of learning to myself. I often hear from folks that hold their intelligence, or the intelligence they think they have, in very high esteem look down upon me and say, "you read that book? I even had a hard time understanding it." As if I was not capable of grasping the knowledge bestowed within the pages!

What most people, or all, may not know is I have had my IQ tested more than once. Three times to be exact. Yes, each time I got something different, but it was never lower than 140. Not Mensa quality mind you but none too shabby either. Each time I had myself tested they all said the same, "Would be higher if math scores were improved." My poor math scores are terribly low, retarded person low. I cannot grasp it. Not sure why, but sadly my son has the same issue.

I digress, as I was saying, I saw "the look" I have seen so many times before again today. I suppose my "dumb girl" training has worked remarkably well, again.

Don't worry folks, I do get it. If I can get a quantum physics book that my "genius" friends cannot, then I can get the little things. Unless of course it is math. Then like Einstein I will call my mathematician friends in to help me!

Let this just be between you and I, this kind of information in the wrong hands can be dangerous. People expect results. Shhh.....