Property Porn....
 1. I'm having issues with my pics right now, but if I could get this first pic bigger, you would see the pink vertical line of a rainbow... this was by the way, just to the right of a lightening storm. A rainbow and a lightening storm... never in my life did I think I'd ever see those two things at once.

 2. This view is from the back lower side of the property, looking up to the house. The sun is extra orange and quite easy to look at due to a haze of 8 forest fires resulting from previous lightening storms the night before.

 3. This was taken minutes before the rainbow in picture #1. The sunset to the left, the rainbow to the right, and the lightening was behind the property.

 4. This pic seems like it's in a filter... but I swear it was one of those days where the light outside was a funky yellow. My camera was on 'Cloudy' setting and it gave the most accurate image showing the color of the atmosphere.

 5. This was our last Supermoon. The moon is rising right over the opening between our property and a neighboring field which is at least half marsh in the spring. The hawks just love to dive and swoop here.

Pussy cat, pussy cat, where have you been?

Wow... I knew it had been 'a while'... but I really didn't think it has been a year since I last posted. The quick excuse is that life got busy. I started writing a weekly article for another site and eventually that was the only writing I did. THEN in September our landlord offered to sell us her house.... a dilapidated depression era farm house - and five acres. The acreage sealed the deal of course. My husband and I both have full time jobs that keep us afloat... for the most part. Sometimes his contracting work is slim pickings and what he makes when it's good isn't usually enough to easily get by when it's not. So we found our selves working on the new property at the end of the day til sometimes 1am. And the repairs and improvements were all out of pocket above and beyond what we had to pay out for expenses normally anyways. It's been a crazy year.

Yes, we are still married... yes we have moved in... no the house is not done. It looks nice inside... except for the depression era kitchen with two cupboards and one counter that hasn't been touched, and the main bathroom which we have torn apart down to the lapboard with only a nice new toilet... but no shower and no sink or water otherwise...and various other corners and nooks that have been deemed not immediately important. We sanded the real wood floors and thought we had done good. But re-staining and sealing them was one of those bigger expenses that had to wait And wait. And wait. And we couldn't wait to move in any longer. So our floors are in limbo. I'm not even sure they were sanded enough. I still see shine. I don't think real wood sanded down is supposed to shine. Oh well! All the better since we are living on them now anyways. But someday we are going to have to move out- so we can do our floors.

And that's just the short version of the story about the inside. I haven't mentioned the 'Jacuzzi room ( closet ) that was never finished and had become an indoor jungle. That we just sealed off. There is now a wall where there was once a door to a Jacuzzi room. Now we just have to rip it off the corner of the house and re-side. Nor have I mentioned the dormer rooms upstairs that my daughter has closed off due to the hole in the floor where my husband borrowed the wood flooring to repair damage to the floor in the Man Cave. The hole in the kitchen ceiling where a stove chimney used to run? Well that was going to be a dumb waiter up to my daughters room. Someday. Maybe. Today, it's just a hole up to the attic.  The well...? I don't even want to think about it. It seems to work. For now. The property has visually had about as much improvement as the painted walls of the house interior. Trimming some trees and bushes makes such a difference. Now the pine tree limbs don't touch the ground and you can walk under them. It's amazing the difference.

I can't say removing a good number of rusted out classic cars and various farm implements from the black berries has really made much of a difference though... I mean- since you couldn't really see them anyways. We don't own a tractor. Well, that is unless you count the non- working one that was on the property. But have no fear, hubby says he can make it go. Until then though, we have a ridiculously generous neighbor who has offered his time and his fancy tractor to push back a few areas of berries. Three of the 5 acres are still covered in them, but we have a garden now thanks to him. Albeit - a late late started one. What can I say, no matter how rough the going gets, we are optimists!

However... there are a few things that really put a damper on those lofty spirits. Things like, no highspeed internet. And no cell service. Having to get a land line once again is like having to use a brick car phone. That's what you deal with when you live in the country, right? But I'm only a mile outside of town! Every now and then I find a signal. And then a breeze moves in and it's gone. Maybe a cloud goes by... maybe an airplane. Maybe a cow farts... I don't know and I can't explain it, but poof and it's gone. I am the queen of unfinished conversations, which I guess is better than being the queen of no reply.

It all brings home my own aversion to change. These things that are happening for us are so exciting. Our first home... our own land. Providing for ourselves from our own harvests. I'm going to have horses, chickens and goats, probably rabbits too. We have an orchard (and all the black berries we want). But... I don't know. And that's just it maybe... I don't know. I don't know what I'm doing! I'm the type who has to do it to learn it but I'm also the type who don't want to do it if she can't do it well. It's frustrating- all this new stuff. But it's the kind of frustration that you easily sweep under the rug along with never ending farm dirt. You just have to hope that everything else in your life remains a constant. You cling to and long for that confidence in stability. However, this is a big change. Some changes make your comfortable routine of a life suddenly busy and always rearranging and it's hard to hold up your end of that stability. It's what you need the most and it's the hardest to give at times and to grasp at others. Change isn't something that just happens in a moment and then moves on. Just when you think you are getting used to it, there are domino effect changes waiting in the wings. Sometimes I feel like I must be the strongest person in the world to not let it get to me. Sometimes I feel like the weakest person in the world because I can not stop the changes. And sometimes I feel like the loneliest person in the world because I can't imagine any one could understand all the ways in which things have had to change. Please understand, I do not want or mean to complain about this great blessing. But as always... I seek to be understood and I some how always had this weird notion that someone out there... just might.

Fatherless Fathers Day pt 2

Five years ago I wrote a post that touched a bit on my 'Daddy Issues'. How my read dad is not in any way a Dad. And how his momentary life choice to disown us five kids remains a sore spot with me no matter how cordial everyone pretends to be with him. Myself included.
Father's day for me is hard. You'd think I would only have the right to say that if I was a father who maybe lost their son. You might think once upon a time my real dad and I were close and then we had a falling out. No. No. And whatever else you might think. Probably also 'No'. I was never Daddy's little girl. In fact I was Daddy's little 'Oh I forgot how strong I am but I was never abusive' girl. I was Daddy's little idiot who couldn't talk or do anything right enough to please him. I was the girl that was supposed to be a boy because he already had a precious little girl the first time. I was the disappointment and I felt that from him at every interaction we had.
You would think, if he was this great person that I looked up to, then yeah... makes sense that I would be as deeply hurt by that as I am. But No. If I ever did I was too young to know any better but I can tell you it didn't last long. I was only around the age of 8 by the time he was no longer a part of my life.
Another part of that post 5 years ago was in regard to how I have a Step Dad and my feelings or indifference to him. And that is really the driving reason for writing this post today.
Five years ago I was in a different place with my affection or lack there of for my new Step Dad. I had said he was a great guy whom I appreciate very much... but there just wasn't a connection there. I'm not the type to be fake when it comes to my affection. I wouldn't say 'I love you' if I didn't mean it. So there were never Happy Father's Day cards full of mushy deep sentiments just because he married my Mom. And it will be a while til there are. But I feel the need to state that I do care for my Step Dad and that he means a lot to me. I'm a hard nut to crack when it comes to giving up my emotions and I say it like it is and can be very real and blunt. I was already an adult when he became my Step Dad so he's never 'fathered' me. Not in the disciplinary sense for sure. To me, that's always what I believed a father is. As well as a guide and compass and confidant. And I've just never needed that in my adulthood after having learned to  live with out it all my life. But I've come to learn that it's not about the title he holds or the job he performs. It's just about who he is, what's in his heart. And I have come to learn that it's all good. So I hope he can be patient. He has no kids of his own and I imagine it can be a difficult day for him as well and that the appreciation and affection of the five kids he's taken on as his own, even though a few of us were already adults when he came to the family, is something he would like to feel. I think he has it. I think he's earned it for sure! If for no other reason than for the fact that he has been there for more years than my real Dad ever made it with us. And perhaps more importantly, he WANTS to be there for us. And that goes a long way with me. Happy Father's Day 'Dad'.

Not so spring chickenish

I'm no spring chicken, nor am I afraid of or a stranger to hard work. And yet today my double shift has me feeling like I should retire before I'm asked to do that again! I am compelled to come here and publicly ponder... am I being a wimp? Is it just me and my not so spring chickenly ways?
In my defense, let me explain how my day(s) developed. You see, normally I work at 6am. Except for an occasional Thursday in which I work at midnight til 6am.  This was the case yesterday. So I try to get some kind of rest in the evening before I work for the night. But it's incredibly difficult to get any sleep during the day when the sun is shining and the birds are singing. I was able to get just short of 3 hours of sleep. This morning after work I went to bed at 7am. At 9: 30 I get woken up to a phone call from my boss. 'I hate to ask you but could you come in today at 1?" So I tried to get a bit more sleep and woke at 10:30. Once at work I ended up staying an extra 45 minutes. Both times I walked to work and walked home. On the way home I carried home a gallon of lemonade, a jar of mayo, 2 qts of cooking oil, a 6 pack of 16 oz bottles of soda and two bouquets of crazily dyed daisies. Perhaps I bit off more than I could chew. ( on a hot day after a long day to boot) Yes, I do believe I'm whining. I'm just not ready to feel... not so spring chickenish.

I love The Rain

I sense a change in the light and feel the clouds close in tight.

I keep my head up and my eyes on the sky... a moment of calm evokes a heavy sigh.

A gentle mist floats across the field... flowers open up to say 'ahh': dryness healed.

I do not run for cover and I do not complain.

I love the rain.

The darkness that settles upon the sky is no concern of mine, it was already only grey and nothing much to be excited about anyway.

And now the strength of everything natural and true, is taking a test that's long over due.

Fragile lilies so dainty in their stance take a bit of a beating and regret their hasty choices perchance.

That place in the sun is the same as the one... that exposes every petal which tomorrow's storm will have undone.

My pace does not quicken and for me, never could be deemed too slow. Let the rain come down and the drops upon me flow.

Umbrella over head or better yet down at my side... no reason at all to run and hide.

With a little bit of shower I shall not melt nor freeze nor catch the death of me in it's innocent kill.

I love the rain, and I always will.

I know how to undress me and once again become warm and dry... I know how long to linger and when to tell the clouds goodbye.

I have plenty back up in my cold weather closet.

I love the rain so much I  sometimes wish I knew how to cause it.

But alas, all that I can do is soak it up whenever I can. Be present in it's beauty and admit I'm quite a fan.

I love the rain --- and I love it even more when you are in it there with me.  Because even through the falling rain it's your appreciative, protective, and ultimately, understanding gaze I see. 

With you I like to share the thrill of a cold wet chill. I love the rain and I love you. I know I always will
The only shelter I desire is your hand covering mine. Forever and for always will do just fine.

Tap- Tap. Is this thing working?

Dream a little dream.

Wanna have a fantastically action packed dream? Try watching the movie 'Law Abiding Citizen' immediately before bed and I'd be willing to bet you'll be tossing and turning, but not for lack of sleep. Although- there is a possibility though that you could be like me, and wake yourself up mid hurl.

I'm not normally an out of body type of dreamer. I can't control my dreams, and I'm almost never able to get back into a dream, despite all my efforts to do so, once I've been woken. Sometimes I do slowly come out of a dream and that allows me the cognitive awareness of reality vs. dream. It puts me right on the edge of coming out of a dream but still being in it and yet knowing that I am in fact dreaming.

For instance, once while inside of a dream I was accidentally given a note from my boyfriend that wasn meant for some other girl. In my dream, more urgent events prevented me from taking a moment to read what the note said. I had placed it on my dresser until I could be alone and really absorb what it said. But I started to come out of my dream before I got the chance to do that. Wanting so badly to see what he wrote to her, I desperately tried to go back to sleep. But I was too stuck in that half awake half asleep mode. So I still envisioned the note on the dresser, but yet knew if I got up to read it, I'd be awake and it would go away. It was crazy maddening.

*Side Note: I ACTUALLY DID mistakenly receive this kind of letter in the mail from my long distance boyfriend. I just couldn't tell you if I got the real letter first and then dreamed about it, or if it was some type of premonition if you will. Even though it's been almost 30 years, you would still think that it would have been such a huge correlating thing that I would remember the order of events. Which is why really, I feel kind of sure that the real letter came after. As though I forgot about the dream eventually and when it happened for real the dream was long forgotten. If the real letter came first, wouldn't I think I knew what the note said? Maybe? Maybe not. What I'd give to have it straight! And that's not the only premonition type dream that I had as a young teenager, so I have to admit it's certainly possible, right?

Anyhoo.

Last night's dream shared the same end of dream lucidity as that one. At the end of the dream, which was full of;  life threatening obstacles, trials,  physical challenges, mind puzzles, gadgets and conspiracy, I had finally succeeded and risen above, and made it home- albeit in barely alive condition. When I finally came to a family member and would be savior, I spit blood just like you see in the movies when people have been through hell and are bleeding internally. But it was a lot of blood. Actually more like spewed blood. Chunky blood. With small white clots of something. But not projectile... not like I was throwing up. Not yet.

It wasn't until my minds eye witnessed this scene pass before it and only after many moments of registering what it had just seen... it reacted the same way one would react if they seen this in real life before them. You might wanna hurl, right? Seems quite reasonable! And that is exactly what my minds reaction was.

What woke me up at 4 am this morning was not the exciting and altogether disgusting dream I'd just had. It was the lurch of my body, as I lay on my back sleeping, trying to heave a cookie toss. There was actually crap in my throat. And I lay there for a panicked 2 minutes holding as still as I could, saying to myself... 'omg, I won't be able to go into work today, oh no! Not if I'm sick. Not if I'm throwing up. If I don't move and don't throw up maybe I will get over it, I can make it pass.'

Tossing cookies all night is the ONLY thing ever in over 20 years that has kept me home from work. So, it's a big fear of mine. I'm a tough cookie, but the thought of spewing in front of coworkers and customers- or any public place, or in front of ANYONE for that matter will make me hide myself away JUST IN CASE if I think I might.

And there in my stillness, trying to be ever so calm, reality slowly came to me; that I had simply had a mental and physical reaction to a visual from my dream. I wasn't sick and I just needed to not lay so flat and maybe clear my throat.

It was all good. No bedside buckets necessary. Another day worked, another few dollars earned.

BEST. COMEBACK. EVER.

A coworker was recently telling me about a miscommunication she had with another coworker. She felt terrible for the wrong impression that was taken away from an innocent comment not meant to be offensive at all.

I felt bad for her and the other person and that they were in the situation at all. But I had to laugh and get her to admit that the other coworker had a damn good comeback.

In the future some time if someone tries to be insulting, try this out:

'Hey, next time you want to be condescending...? Try harder. I was only half insulted.'

Damn, that's a good one.

Dodging Kisses

Another random memory brought on by music....

I'm sitting here listening to music on Spotify and I decide to look up, 'Barry Manilow'. Now, before I go any farther, yes I admit it. I like Barry Manilow. Sometimes I just ooze mush and really want to hear Weekend In New England. Sue me.

Anyhoo... I came across the title of a song that I recognized from, and hadn't heard since- my childhood. Sixth grade to be exact. The song: Don't Sit Under The Apple Tree (with anyone else but me)

My best friend and I had attended a school dance. We had our eye on this bushy blonde haired kid in torn jeans and a leather jacket. We decided that we both liked this rebel rouser and that it would be perfectly ok with us if we dated him together, so we asked him out and we let him know we were a package deal. I can't recall who did the actual asking, but it's the only time in my life that I made that kind of  'first move' on a boy. (I'm pretty sure she did it).

He agreed to date us both. (as if any red blooded 6th grade boy would say 'no'?) We took turns dancing with him and by the end of the night she decided she was done with that: I could have him.

From there it seemed to really blossom for Eric and I. The next school day he met me out front of the school and handed me a glossy gift box with delicate pink flowers printed all over it. The box contained a pure white lace doily. And inside the doily - wait for it.... a pet rock.  I don't know if it was supposed to be a pet rock, but it was a rock. I suppose it could have been somewhat in the shape of heart. Sort of.

Maybe.

On the inset of the lid, there was what was supposed to resemble sheet music. The song lyrics on it were of 'Don't Sit Under The Apple Tree'.

I remember explicitly thinking, 'Mmkaaay'. It was totally weird to me. Touching and sweet as anything. But you have to understand the juxtaposition of such contrasting ideas. Here I was- head over heels with this kid and his rock and roll bad boy image reminiscent of Billy Idol crossed with Rod Stewart and he brings me a lace doily and a rock all wrapped up in a drug store gift box emblazoned with an old timey love song. It was down right disappointing and endearing all at the same time.

We spent all our spare time together for the next couple weeks riding our bmx bikes to and from each others' house and hanging out with his friends- with him trying to make a move on me each day. His problem though, was that I'd never kissed anyone before. In fact, shortly before that dance, I had just been dumped by only the second boyfriend I had ever had BECAUSE I wouldn't make out with him.

Now, ladies... tell me if you can relate: When a guy wants to kiss you, and if you are shy at all- what should he do? ASK you to kiss him? ASK you if it's ok if he kisses you? And if he is lucky enough that you say yes, should he close his eyes, pucker up and wait for it? 

I think not. Ya gotta take my kisses or you weren't getting them.
I remember one day Eric and I were playing on the playground in a wooden playhouse. He blocked the doorway and told me he wasn't letting me out until I kissed him. ME... kiss HIM. And I see that he really wasn't going to let me out. Combined with the feeling of HAVING to in order to be let out, and feeling like I'd put him off too many times already anyway, I told him I would. But I had conditions. (There were always conditions) He had to sit down, and close his eyes. He did so and sat there waiting. I do think I really intended to try. But I couldn't do it. So while he was off guard, sitting there with his eyes unaware, I got up and ran. Neener Neener can't catch me! (Phew! That was close)

Case in point: We hung out a lot with his best friend Josh who had a sister close to my age, and lived only a block away. Often times Eric would leave me at Josh's house when he had to hurry home, and then it would be dark out and Josh would walk me to my place.

You see where this is going don't you?

One night in particular Josh and I were having a great conversation on the way to my house and when we got there we weren't ready to end it. So we leaned against the house by the side yard and talked and talked and talked. Next thing I knew, not only was he facing me, but leaning into me and his tongue was leaning into my mouth! I'd never even kissed on the lips before, let alone this!

He didn't ask. At least not until after about 5 minutes of this wonderful thing did he stop to look at me and ask if I was mad at him for it. I answered with another half hour of the same and hoped it let him know I certainly wasn't. It was the sweetest experience compared to all the repetitive, cold demanding expectations of, 'Are you going to kiss me today?" queries.

Maybe it was the offers to walk me home, and Josh's tender gentlemanly ways in every other sense, that made it perfectly ok for him to not ask. I trusted him. I knew he was kind.

Eric wasn't happy, but it seemed only right that we tell him and let him know I was going to be Josh's girlfriend now, lol. But as always, expectations ruined everything.

As I mentioned, Josh's sister and I had become friends. I liked spending time with her as well as Josh. To me it was a 2in1 deal, but they wouldn't share.  How does a 10 year old girl juggle the logistics of when to be a friend and when to be a girlfriend? Josh became resentful of the time and attention I was giving his little sister and thus him and I fizzled out. Eventually her and I did as well because we always seemed to get into little tiffs.  

Overall it's a sweet and sour memory to me. I don't recall being very broken up about it all. But I remember being aware of the distance that came between him and his once best friend Eric.

Thank you Eric: with out you I probably never would have gotten over my crush on Rod Stewart.
And thank you Josh: If not for your slick moves,  I might still be dodging kisses.

The Most Boring Day

Siigghhhh.....

I feel like posting something on this the most boring day. I'm not sure what about... but I am sure what I don't want to post about.... the New Year. I've had it up to my eyeballs, literally, with, 'Happy New Year' and 'What are your New Year resolutions?" and "How are you starting off the New Year'.... etc etc etc etc etc etc! Enough already.

I refuse to post about New Years.

I wonder if the reason people started the tradition of partying so hard on New Years Eve is so that they would sleep all day on January 1st. ? Any good reason to sleep through the most boring day of the year seems appealing. If only I could have. But the problem with that is that it really isn't just an issue for this one day. It really does drag out all month. Not only is it the big let down after the big hype of Thanksgiving and Christmas, but the weather is blah! Just cold and blah. The days are actually starting to get longer if you can believe it. Dec 21st was the shortest day of the year and every day after will just get longer and longer until they start to get short again after the first day of summer. So January REALLY drags out. I remember as a kid... before computers, cell phones and affordable cable... I would sometimes think I would go out of my mind from boredom. I would find myself watching reruns of Happy Days, M.A.S.H.... and absolutely cheesy variety shows. And I really hated M.A.S.H if that tells ya anything of how completely and utterly bored I would get. I would get so bored I would just go to bed before my bedtime.

Don't get me wrong, it wasn't that I was so unimaginative and lazy that I just bored myself. Sometimes I would bundle up and go for a bike ride in the cold gray weather. Sometimes I would have a sports event or practice. Sometimes I would walk to the indoor community pool. Sometimes I would play records (yes actual vinyl records - showing my age here) and rearrange the Teen Beat posters of Quiet Riot, Cinderella, Duran Duran, and Def Leopard on my walls.

But no matter what I did... it always ended at some point and that gnawing stir crazy feeling would kick in immediately. That's how I feel every day for most of the winter, once the holidays are over. Things don't start looking up until Spring begins to tease me with it's peekaboos and previews.

See? I said I refused to write about the New Year and yet I was so bored, I wrote about the New Year.

Oy vey.

What have you done for me lately?

I'm not going to sit here and try to talk myself up... but let's just say it's important to me to be helpful. Some call it being a kiss ass. But I just like to make peoples' lives easier when I can. No big.

But in order to get my point across about something said to me today, I'll need to give a little bit of back story.

When it gets really busy my manager is pretty good about jumping in and helping. But sometimes it calls for her to make sandwiches. And I know she hates this part - since she does it so rarely it's hard to remember the recipes and you tend to be really slow at it when you don't know it off the top of your head... then you get all flustered as it just gets busier and the line gets longer. So if I've had to step away from the sandwich counter to help at the meat counter for instance, of course I'm going to try to get back to my station as soon as possible. When I do I always offer to take over for her, no matter what stage of the sandwich she is in. And ESPECIALLY when the order is for a certain kind of sandwich that is a p.i.a to make.

She often walks around mumbling about all the work she has to do. Sometimes being very specific about a particular task. I aim to be a problem solver. So I often ask if this or that kind of assistance would be helpful. If she needs to go back to the warehouse for something and I'm not in the middle of something, I'll offer to go. If I need something off the frozen load she just brought up and parked in the freezer unloaded, I might go in there and unload it- since I'm in there removing a box or two anyways.

Etc. Etc. Etc. I'm always right there to help. I do way more than my position describes. I stay as long as she will let me in order to get something done if I am in the middle of it. I'm not the type to stand idle for the last 15 minutes of my shift because I don't have enough time to finish a task I might be able to start. And I don't take one of my 10 minute breaks 15 minutes before my shift ends either. (Yes, I work with people like that!) And I'm ALMOST always available on a day off if she needs me to come in.

Today was a hellish day. We were over in hours so the two ladies we had, besides myself, working the am shift to pump out some catering trays that were piling up were sent home early. Then at about noon my boss noticed that two of those trays were due TODAY and the ladies had not seen them so there were not done at all. She was saying she was going to have to do them herself when she got back from lunch. So I offered to slice the 12 lbs of meat for her while she was at lunch. I had gotten most of it done for her but not all. So in order to make it easy I offered her my back stock of meats that I make subs out of, since it was the same kind, thus her having to cut even less yet. Then she needed cheese. I don't normally slice my own cheese, that's the job of another one of the am ladies. But I had needed it and didn't want to wait for one of them to do it, so I had sliced it myself the day before. I offered this to my boss as well since it was the same kind the trays called for. No big. I'm happy to give it up if she needs it. When she finished taking the amounts of each item that she needed she was saying, 'Here's your meat back'.... 'Here's your cheese back'.  So hopefully you can now imagine my amazement and confusion when she then said to me, 'I'm so good to you!'

And I really don't think it was tongue in cheek because she was 'giving me back' MY meats and cheeses. Maybe. I mean, anything's possible. But sarcasm has never really been her humor style. So it really gave me pause. And I really really really wanted to say, 'YOU are good to ME???' But I figured it wasn't worth it. Let it roll. Whatever she meant is par for the course with her. She's the type to tell you that ,'I've made bonuses twice off of you guys.' Yes, with those exact words. '...off of you guys." And then also be the type to not give us little incentives, buy little Christmas gifts, maybe have a yearly party... etc.

Oh well... C'est la vie.

Red's Inspirations: Just say no to bird poop

You can not prevent the birds of sorrow from flying over your head. But you can prevent them from making nests in your hair. - Chinese Proverb

My take: I love this quote!  But I think it would be better if it said it like it is though... maybe something more like 'Bird poop happens but hats are generally impenetrable.'

Our attitudes should be just that...'impenetrable'. Or to break it down even more.... 'I'm made of rubber, you're made of glue...' You know the rest.

One man's 'Boring' is another man's bliss

Make new friends, but keep the old. Some are silver and some are gold.

I'm sitting here thinking... thinking... thinking. I've thumbed through all my notebooks that I can find thinking perhaps I will post an old poem. Nope- nothing I feel like sharing.

Think think think.... listen to music... sing along... think think think. Change music. Think some more. Sing along.

I've got it! I just need to turn the music off. Then I will be able to concentrate.

But wait... I love this song. I'll wait til this song is over.
 
Listen to music. Stare at blank screen. Next song comes on. Stare at blank screen some more. Start to think harder about what to write...sing along to music.

An mp3 player set to 'Random' is worse than reality tv... what's coming up next??? Don't turn it off before you see what's next... wouldn't want to miss anything good right? But it's all good.

Then my husband says to me... "What music is that? Is that playing on AOL?'

I say, 'No, it's my Playlist.'

He says, 'Go to BBC Imusic (or something along those lines) They have 80's, World... you name it. All kinds of stuff. You will find something new.'

I say, "But dear... I don't want anything 'new'. I like what's on my play list. That is why it is on my playlist.'

He says, 'Don't you like to listen to new stuff?'

"No."

'No?'

'No."

"You don't like to just listen to learn about new music you might like?'

I say, 'I'm not adverse to new music, but when I like something... I kind of want to hear it. I search out an artist or a song that I like and read all the lyrics on the albums, listen to clips, etc. I have plenty 'new' exposure. I watch videos. I exchange CD's with friends... but I like what I like and don't see the need to waste very much of my time LOOKING for what I MIGHT like. Simple.'

Seems pretty logical to me. But apparently I'm a bit simplistic for his sophisticated music repertoire.

Am I wrong for only wanting to spend my music listening time on the good stuff? If I had all the time in the world, sure I could easily waste a few hours following links on Youtube or browsing for new stuff, but I prefer to use my time on what I know I'll enjoy. How do you feel about the exploration of music vs. the old faithful, memorable and sentimental favorites?

It's all part of the reason why he hates taking me to Subway. I order a tuna sandwich every time. And I savor how wonderful it is, every time. We go to a restaurant- I order a Patty Melt.  He says I'm boring, but at least I always enjoy my dinner. The same can't always be said for him. We order Pizza- he gets all kinds of toppings trying to build up on the flavors and get the most out of it.  I order a very basic type-  no Sausage, no Salami, no Pineapple, no Tomato, no Green Pepper. You know... just ground beef, maybe pepperoni,  onion, olive, mushroom, maybe Jalapeño. There are just certain flavors that are work well together... it doesn't mean you can't like all that other stuff, but you ruin it by over doing it. My pizza toppings choices are pretty much the same every time, and it seems to be EVERYONE elses' favorite everytime too and seems to disappear first. Where as, he is the only one who eats his- and he always partakes of mine as well and enjoys it very much. I always enjoy mine.  Now I ask you... who is smarter?

  Which makes most sense? New and unusual- but also unproven; or -  faithful standby that always gives enjoyment?

I've Learned...

I'm at an age where I hope by now I've learned a few things and am reflecting on their importance.  I actually think I've learned more than what I sought to learn in the first place. And though I've learned a lot, there is still much to know. One thing more recently...I've learned not to judge.

I've learned that when you don't know someone very well... you probably don't know them AT ALL.

Take for instance any musical superstar. You see them and they have presence, style, poise, grace and confidence. You sing their lyrics and secretly wish you could don their 'look'. Everything they do is golden.

And then the reality hits and the paparazzi have made millions off their 'stars-with-no-make-up' and or 'who's-cellulite-is-this-on-the-beach' snapshots at 96% zoom.

If this changes your opinion of a superstar... then
A: you're pretty shallow
B: just wait until you find out that it took an entire entourage of professionals just to ensure you would have these wonderful opinions in the first place. From personal stylists, to entire professional hair and make up crews, to writers and lyricists; the end result is an illusion worthy of Houdini.

Sometimes it's our own eagerness to believe so completely in what is presented to us. We project onto them a greatness born only of our own imagination.

Take for instance a talented young songstress by the name of Jessica Andrews. Quite a while back on her debut album she sang an all-American-girl kind of song called 'Who I am'. A song about a girl who is unique with quirks and imperfections, and the love her friends and family have for her regardless. One particular line of the song says, '... I am Rosemary's Granddaughter, spitting image of my father...'. Jessica Andrews found herself explaining in many interviews that, no, her Grandmother's name is not Rosemary. It's just a song! Many people felt duped at this revelation.

It was just a song, people. A series of words and phrases cleverly and poetically put to music. Although she did personally pen many of the lyrics on the album... you can not judge a singer by their hit single alone. And that is pretty much the whole point, isn't it? How many times have you been surprised to find out an interesting tidbit of music trivia that turned what you always thought you knew about someone on it's nose? With the proliferation of the internet, we often know way more than we want about famous people. An image of perfection is shattered everyday.

And then there are images that belie the perfection within. Case in point: I've become a big fan of the musical artist Pink. She's been around for a while, but I always ignored the rebellious pink haired newcomer. It wasn't until recently that one particularly catchy song peaked my interest in the rest of her music. When I dug a little deeper I felt I'd found a gold mine. I've since watched her life history play out on biography shows. I've found that she is about as real as any person can get. I truly get this sense. Everything she puts out there, from her pink hair to her music... that's who she is. Nothing about her feels like a gimmick when you see the whole picture. And in the end I found myself in awe of her talents. Her voice is a multifaceted jewel. Her abilities span a wide variety of styles and she is more than exceptional at them all. But you wouldn't know it if you didn't see beyond the rough and rebellious image.

I used to get wrapped up in political judgments against entertainers. 'How can they believe such a thing?! Well! I won't be listening to their music anymore!' But the reality is, I laughed at their comedy before I knew their political stance. I sang along with their tunes before I knew they were non believers. Nothing about what they put out for our entertainment changes in quality or concept. Singing along doesn't pay them royalties. I judge not the person, nor the product they produce. Granted, I may not choose to SUPPORT them by purchasing their product.  I mean... I do have SOME scruples. But to support a small business selling it second hand... sure. And I certainly don't feel guilty to be enjoying it as it is played on the radio.  I can often just listen to a song or two I like online with out paying for any of it and you certainly don't have to pay for an entire album. Regardless of how you do it, you can't really deny that the product is just that... a product. And is as enjoyable still as it was before. No matter what bad things you want to say about the artist or performer, you are still gonna be bopping your little head around when that catchy joy filled tune fills the air and don't bother kicking yourself and feeling 2 inches high when that opposite-winged comedian says something that makes you giggle.

On a personal note, I'm sure I have been judged with all kinds of misinterpretations. For instance, a quick glance at my Facebook page and you will see a myriad of comments and posts by my most active 'friends'... who also happen to be of the 'mystical' mind set. Universal love and something called 'starseeds' abound. Honestly, I know nothing of this realm and it's not 'me' at all. But we all come together in support of each other as positive thinking people. Having been part of a now defunct ezine called Angels Weekly brings me in contact with an untold number of self affirming, open minded, and giving individuals whose only desire is to share their world... and talk to angels or something.  I can't slight anyone for that. We all just have to realize that the most striking mosaics are made up of contrasting and unexpected pieces.

I myself have always been anti labels. But sometimes when people insist on categorizing me... as lets say- a short tempered redhead... I go ahead and give them what they want. I remind them that not only am I a redhead, but I am a woman AND a Scorpio. I think this is supposed to make them shake in their boots or something. But their illusion of impending doom is really not necessary. There are deeper truths than those of the surface.

I, in fact, have a slow burning temper. Sometimes surprisingly, not one at all. I'm more tom-boy than 'woman'. And I don't prescribe to the myth and magic of horoscopes any more than for what they offer in entertainment. And like other forms of entertainment and entertainers, I don't hold their various wrongs against their product.

There is so much to know about people that it's a rarity to really know all there is to know. To assume that you do... well- we all know how that story ends.

Introducing... my kitty flock.

I recently visited someone's blog strictly on the open invitation to come take a look at their cat picture they posted. And I thought to myself... 'You know... I should really do a post that includes pictures of all our cats and then when I mention them later, there will be a pic to reference." I figure, they are a pretty big part of our lives so why not dedicate a post just to them?

And here's how the story goes...

Husband and wife spend all their lives with dogs. Husband and wife move into apartment...no more dogs.
( Cats ok!)  Husband keeps bringing home people's unwanted cats... cats pee in corners and run away. Wife says NO MORE CATS.
Husband finds fluffy little cream puff scared out of it's wits in the mens restroom at Burger King. Husband sneaks irresistible cream puff out of restaurant in jacket, feeds hamburger to cream puff and brings home. Cream puff is an itty bitty ball of adorable. Wife gives in. ( Poor cream puff wants his mommy so bad he looses his voice mewing constantly for her.)

1 yr later daughter is born... cat thinks baby is noisy intruder that smells weird... she makes him nervous. Not to mention the ultimate slap in the face: getting kicked out of the new and really awesome cat bed that Mom and Dad call a 'bassinet', only to discover that said noisy stinky creature gets to sleep in it! Cat tude in high gear for pretty much ever now. Daughter grows up a little, senses cat tude... wants her own cat to love and be loved by... unlike Mr. Aloof  With An Attitude. Officially known as 'BK'.

Mom and Dad look at little curly headed ball of irresistible adorableness known as their daughter and say 'Yes, you can have that female kitten.' Daughter names kitten 'Nine tails' after favorite Pokemon character.

Female kitten grows up so fast, becomes boy crazy. Mom and Dad? = Clueless to how girl cats can be. Girl cat becomes woman cat... then momma cat. Momma cat has 5 babies. 4 black, 1 white. 1: Snowbell- cuz she was white and we had just watched Stuart Little 2: Cutie Kitty- because we couldn't ever think of anything else and her temporary name was all she ever got but is absolutely perfect for her 3: Tomalina- because Dad wanted to name a girl cat 'Tom' (following in the long tradition of obvious and opposite names... ie a cat named mouse, a dog named deogie, etc.) so my daughter and I compromised on Tomalina- Tom for short 4: Foxy- because the temporary name of 'Alien guy' just wasn't cutting it and she had huge ears like a fox, was very dainty and had a curly stubby tail 5: Bob-a  fat black little thing with bob tail.

Momma cat - still nursing- gets bored... boy crazy again.  Eventually white kitten finds home, black kittens... not so much. Bob passes away... apparently from eating litter from its' training litter box. Momma didn't seem to feed them very well. Could have something to do with being so young and or being pregnant! And then more black kittens.

Meanwhile,the empty house next door is being remodeled. When foundation people remove porches in order to add foundation, two blue eyed creamy manx kitties were found. Foundation workers ask us to love and protect these babies if possible. How can you say 'No'? The momma cat was half feral but would come in to nurse the two and leave until next feeding.'Grrr' found a home, Zim was at home.

Ninetails delivers her second litter... 6 this time. 1: Tuffy - a massive fluffy Tuxedo boy. 2: Holly Bush -it was partially a political thing and partially because Santa's Little Helper was already taken by the dog on Simpsons. Holly was the only girl and a twin to Tuffy... except very thin and dainty. 3: Bimmer - cuz Dad dreams of having a BMW someday 4: Mag - A tuxedo twin to Bimmer  5: Winky - pure black, slim, curly stub tail, and we had recently watched that Disney series Return to Magic Mountain. Winky was identical to his half sister from the first litter, Foxy. Winky didn't like being compared all the time and ran away. Actually, they all used to follow kids down to the corner when they walked by after school. I like to think one of them stole him and he now happily dwells with one of them. 6: Knuckles- cuz my daughter was also a Sonic The Hedgehog fan, and he just had that cool cat large and in charge attitude.

Then there was the orphan, the unnamed,  very beaten up, half alive kitten that showed up on our porch one day. We don't know if a person, knowing we had other kittens, put it there or if Grr and Zim's momma brought it to us- it kind of looked like hers. Dad got some kitten formula and tried to bottle feed it... but it refused. So he then put it in with Nine Tails second litter and hoped she would adopt it. But it seemed her kittens had other ideas as they turned cannibalistic on it. Pretty crazy huh? In my heart of hearts I believe it was because of the kitten formula that they could smell all over it. I refuse to believe they disliked the new guy so much that they wanted to attempt to eat it's face off. Hubby rushed it to the emergency vet, but let them know, 'hey- this ain't my cat but it needs medical attention'. They swiped it away and refused to let him know anything about it there after since he wasn't paying it's surgery bill.

A couple years later Bimmer and Mag were both hit by cars. A few years after that Nine Tails took ill and died. A while after that we almost lost Cutie Kitty to the same symptoms so we reacted faster and took her in. She had a rare illness that required surgery. We tried antibiotics and 3 days of overnight vet care, but eventually surgery had to be performed. $800 bill later she is the sweetest most affectionate most loving cat ever today. Then Tom started showing the same symptoms and knowing it required the same surgery as a spay we just had her spayed and she was fine. A year or so later Foxy passed. She was always the skinny little runt with the runny nose and chronic diarrhea . We had taken her in and they tested everything but found her to be in great health... with only an allergy to fleas and an unspecified food allergy. And then only months later... for whatever reason...she went quick. But I like to think she is more at peace over the rainbow bridge than she ever was here on earth with all her issues.

Holly got lucky and had just had a recent vet visit, including a spay and deworming, when a co-worker wanted a young cat for her son. So now today... we 'ONLY' have 6 cats. Cutie Kitty, Tomalina, Tuffy, Zim, Knuckles and our 14 yr old 'old man',  BK. We  never were cat people. But we did love having pets so at the times in our lives when we lived in apartments and could only have cats, cats it was. But 'A' cat. One of the first houses we lived in we had 3 cats and a dog. But that was the most ever. And I still don't call myself  'a cat person'. But each one of them has grown on me in a different way and I do love the little buggers. Granted, if one day my daughter said she didn't want them anymore and it was ok if we found them homes else where, I'd be all over that! At least for 4 or five of them. :-) And then I would get the biggest dog I could. Is that terrible of me?

Knuckles poses like no other cat ever.

He seems half the size of her. Maybe it's all that BBQ?

Tom... practicing her DJ moves.

Grumpy Old Man... BK

Ol' Blue Eyes.... Zim. My Zimmie boy!

Zim flicks and twirls his 'tail' like he thinks he has one. Cutest thing ever.

Cutie Kitty being... Cute.

Tuffy being... Lazy.

Falling for Fall

Oh how I love love love this time of year. I feel so deeply connected to it I wonder if it's normal. I know there are many who say they adore it as well. But I just wonder if they feel it in their bones and cellular structure like me. I wonder what it is about it that I feel so in tune with, and why when, symbolically it's only leading up to the season of death and results in leafless trees, no flowers, no sunshine, and constant cold feet... why do I think it's such a great thing?

I do know that as much as I hate the cold, and consider it one of the must uncomfortable things to experience, I really hate being in oppressive heat even more. Most people see summer as a time to get out of the house and be active. But there is nothing that will turn me into a slug more than a day over 80 degrees.

Wait, I lied. A cold house will do that just as well. But I actually enjoy the remedies available to warm up...Hot Chocolate, Russian Tea, flavored coffee, soups, stews and roasts, warm sweaters, fuzzy socks, and fireplaces, cozy blankets and a warm heart lying next to you. These things are part of a perfect world.

Granted, 4am mornings from October to March pretty much suck. Maybe I am just too cheap to keep the house at a constant cozy 75 degrees. Maybe I just need to be rich. Then I could afford $300 a month heating bills in the cool months and $300 cooling bills in the hot ones. Better yet, if I was rich... I wouldn't have to drag my goose pimply butt out of bed and around the cold house at 4 am at all. Problem solved.

But alas, my prospects are dim and the current lottery odds are.... let's just say, 'not in my favor'.

So instead, put on those flannel pj pants, your lover's favorite old sweatshirt that's now yours, grab a cup of Russian Tea and a couch blankie and revel in the perfectness of the moment at hand.

What is Russian Tea you say? Oh my, you are missing out! It's like hot apple cider but with orange instead of apple and tea instead of cider and all the clove, cinnamon and nutmeg you could want on a perfect autumn day. Yes, it leaves an interesting plethora of spices at the bottom of your cup, but oh how delicious and warming it is going down! Try it.

You'll love it. :-)


Russian Tea:

1 jar of Tang instant orange drink ( 1 lb 2 oz is the size I have found and use)
1 package Wylers instant Lemonade mix, * Koolaid brand packets work as well, but Wylers seems to have the best flavor punch - if you can find it.
1 cup instant Tea- * in a pinch Lemon flavored tea will help to replace the lemon drink mix if unavailable... cuz sometimes you just got to have some Russian Tea and can't make it to the store.
*1/2 - 2/3 cup sugar - * this was originally part of this recipe but I actually omit it. There is plenty of sugar in the Tang already to make this a sweet enough drink.
2 tsp. Cinnamon
1 tsp. Ground Cloves
1 tsp. Nutmeg
Use 2 to 3 ( I use 3 heaping in a good sized cup- add more or less to taste and strength preference)
Add to boiling water

***Probably the most important part of these instructions is that you either use a gallon size zipper bag to mix and store OR dedicate a Tupperware or glass jar to only belong to your Russian Tea mix. The spices will tend to linger in anything you use.

Now...sip or slurp to your cozy little hearts content!

9/11.... I was there.

Every year around this time, its common to see the question asked, 'Where were you on Sept. 11?

Where was I?

I was there.

You don't get that answer very often do you?

Ok, I wasn't any where near the Twin Towers or even in New York at all. But I was in Washington D.C.

Why?

Why- when you know why and all the logic is there, do we still react in the ways that we do?

Why- when you have first hand knowledge of how it feels to be in a situation do we put our self or others in said situation?

Why- don't we have the means to rise above our human natures when we are very well aware of our own very human natures and what it is that makes us how we are and why we react the way we do?

Why are we weak to the things that bring us turmoil when we know it isn't necessary to feel that way and that it's just a matter of understanding needed.

But- we understand. We do. We've been there. Of course we understand. Of course I understand. I don't know much of anything right now, but I understand that I just need to understand.

Why is it not through understanding, that we learn from our mistakes?

Why does the propensity to make mistakes and or create MISunderstandings still exist and live it's self out groundhog's day style?

Why can't we succeed after all the lessons are taught and learned?

Why does the knowledge lie there as useless as a limp noodle?

It can not even lure the bluebird of happiness to us with out our own intervention of shaking and jostling.

Any why then, in an effort to do so, do we shake up and jostle our fragile worlds into vague memories of happiness caught in a net?

Why so many holes?

Why so much space between?

And why is there no light coming through all those holes and spaces?

Since when does the blue bird of happiness fly in the dark?

And since when do we not even know what anything means anymore?

Random thought processes are so weird!

I've been going over this blog trying to revamp it and in the process came across the Fatherless Father's Day post. I skimmed it like all the other posts and moved on. Emotionless. No altered states. Meaningless.

Why all of the sudden, as I sit here slightly bored but with lots to do.... do I have the inkling to go take a look at my real father's face book page. It's been a while. There never was much to it, but I don't know- I guess I thought there might be something new and meaningless there for me to see.

So I go...type in his name that I used to share,  and there it is. There he is. Looking back at me. Same pic as always. Not much new and very little activity on his wall. He's updated some of his personal info to show that he is self employed in the business of new aftermarket repair parts for vintage motorcycles.

Well, he's still doing that at least. Good for him. He stuck with something. I actually would really like to see it work out for him. Seems maybe it has. That's all good and well.

And then I find myself looking at his picture. Looking... staring. Trying to see... I don't know what. I just find myself looking at him for a really long time. Locking eyes as though he were that big scary dad and I the inadequate little kid that could never get anything right. Challenging his picture to make me feel any kind of emotion at all.

And it doesn't. Nothing.

And I don't know how I feel about that. Every cell in my body knows that's not NORMAL. What's missing in me... for the result of good or bad, that makes me lack some kind of reaction?

And what exactly was I looking for, anyway? I mean, why do I care if apparently I don't really care?

Oh my head.....

...has been SO neglected.

Ok, admittedly, given up on. I suppose you could say life got in the way. And I wanted it to. There were things in my life that weren't in my life enough and I made an executive decision to trade the time I spent blogging on here with that which I wanted more time with in my life. So why am I here now, you ask?

Oy, the obsession of trying to make a relationship the center of your universe is... NOT GOOD FOR YOUR RELATIONSHIP! You can take my word for it. I've been there. And now, I'm here. Once again. In my red head.