Friday, July 29, 2005

Voila with the humiliation

So. Back in the days when I was married w/out children, we lived in a nice 3-story apartment complex, on the second floor. Below us lived a very nice older woman, Minerva, who was pretty hard of hearing; we didn't see too much of her but had let her know to tell us if she needed anything and had occasionally helped her move things in or out of her place and so forth.

And again, so. One day, this couple moves into the apartment above us. The guy is a big guy--tall and thick. We rarely see him. But we hear him. OH YES. We hear him. With his girlfriend. At 2:00 a.m. I have absolutely nothing against hot monkey sex, you understand, except when it's coming through the ceiling directly above my head at 2:00 in the god-forsaken morning. And this, people, was not just hot monkey sex, it was like hot monkey sex if one of the monkeys is actually a rhino and the other one is practicing for a career in the opera. This was back in the days when I worked two jobs and only got 5 hours of sleep a night. I really liked my sleep.

After one particularly...wakeful...night listening to the Monkey Sex Duet, the (not yet) Ex and I woke up (not so) bright and early, and I--knowing that the Rhino and Carmen the Operatic Monkey couldn't have gone to bed more than a few hours earlier--said to my husband, "I will have my revenge." So I grabbed a broom and began jumping up and down on the bed, slamming the broom into the ceiling and squealing in what I hoped was a completely ear-splitting manner.

Bam! Bam! Bam! OOOOOHHHH GAAAAWWWWWWDDDDD YEEEEEESS! Do it! Dooooo it nooooowwwww! (And so forth, and so on.)

After about 5 minutes of this, I hopped down off the bed, threw on some clothes, and skipped into the kitchen to make some coffee. Nothing makes me so happy in the morning as a little justified vengeance, you know? And I didn't worry about dear Minerva below us, because like I said, she was pretty deaf and I was sure she wouldn't have been disturbed by my gymnastics.

But as I opened the living room curtains, I saw several fire engines and an ambulance parked below. Oh no! I thought, something's happened to Minerva! I ran downstairs and up to the paramedics, explaining who I was and asking whether our downstairs neighbor was all right. The nice man assured me that she was fine, she'd basically had a panic attack and called 911, but she was fine. Relieved, I went back upstairs. It wasn't until I was explaining what had happened to my husband that I realized....I'd just simulated hot monkey sex right on top of a room full of paramedics. And then introduced myself to them.

Thursday, July 28, 2005


OMG. I was going to write something about embarassing moments but then a damned wasp stung me and now I can think only of how much my leg is friggin' KILLING ME! Argh, I hate wasps! Tomorrow, then. Aye-ai-ai....


I've decided we all have Tourrette's. That's all I'm saying. And yes, I know that the majority of people with Tourrette's don't yell out swear words. I know this because WE ALL HAVE IT HERE! You think I'm kidding, but I'm not.

Cats: Getting along splendidly. I'd forgotten what idiots kittens are.
Boy: The Boy is getting over strep, which always throws him (behavior-wise) into the pit of despair. Oy. So it's been...challenging. I miss him when he is like this...I wind up spending so much energy on staying calm and putting out his emotional fires, that at the end of the day I realize how little time I had to just be with him, the sweet him that's in there somewhere underneath all this strep- or medicine-induced shittiness. Sigh.
Girl: Quote of the day--"No matter." She actually told me, "No matter." She's 2 going on 70, seemingly.
Ex: Has some weird mystery pain and is getting tested for Hepatitis. Holy mother.


Friday, July 22, 2005

Careful what you wish for

Jungian archetypes: valid theory or total bull hooey? Discuss. (If you've been paying attention you already know where I stand on this one.)

Ten years ago my neighborhood and the ones surrounding me were just empty fields. And on what was then the edge of town and is now about a 1/2 mile from my house, was an old gas station, disused for years, with a little house next to it. A few years ago, it got a new resident: Psychic May. She was there for a year or so, then left for a while, then I noticed that her palmistry sign was back in all its pink neon glory. I drive by Psychic May nearly every day, and I almost always wonder: Who is she, this Psychic May? Why did she leave? And did she know she'd be back?

Go over to Urban Muse and read about this complete miscarriage of justice. WTF?

The Boy badly wants to live in a palace. I explained the necessity of being royalty. He is not happy. "I guess you'll just have to find some princess to hook up with," I shrugged. (Hey, it's over 100 degrees, my brain is curdling, don't expect a lot out of me.) "What!?" he cried, "I just walk up to some princess and ask her to marry me?!" Uh, yeah. Pretty much. Good luck with that.

Saturday, July 16, 2005

Guilty as charged, Miss Trisha

"If, as you live your life, you find yourself mentally composing blog entries about it, post this exact same sentence in your weblog."

Friday, July 15, 2005

Touched by His Noodly Appendage!

Okay, I'm totally stealing this link from Mrs. Kennedy, who stole it from someone else, but hey. Haven't we decided that this is what the Internet is for? Larceny, pure and simple.

My main question is, if I start worshipping the Flying Spaghetti Monster, will I be forbidden to follow a low-carb diet? Cause, score one more for the FSM, I'm thinking.

Thursday, July 14, 2005

Psycho Kitty, indeed

Hey, did you ever hear the one about the single mom with two kids and a 12-year old Marshmallow Cat and a house that sorely needed Spring Cleaning even though it was halfway through summer and a million things to do for work and moving and cleaning and children and sanity and so on and so forth, but what she started thinking, for some unknown insane reason, was "Hey! What we really need is a kitten!" And then she thought, "What, am I unknowingly insane? For the dear Lord's sake, woman, you are 37 years old and know better by now than to avoid thinking about everything you need to do and everything you are afraid to do and everything you have already done by finding another creature to come into your house!" And then she went and did it anyway?

Yeah. Well, now you have.

Wednesday, July 13, 2005

The Women

An old friend with whom I've reconnected over the past year told me last week that she's finally come to realize that her family are not the people with whom she's joined by blood, but those with whom she's joined by love. Sometimes, for some of us, those lines cross. But it's a strange country, this thing we call family, and its borders are ever shifting. And who lives there? There are men in my family, certainly, many of them greatly beloved, some of whom I would die for, but tonight I am thinking of the women.

of my mother, who loves me despite our differences, who never asked me to hang back to keep her from her own demons, who might not understand but does her best to accept

of the Chica, my sister in every other way that matters, from whom I've learned so much and from whom I can't imagine being separated

of my daughter, who is so like me and yet so unlike, who hasn't yet learned to hold back her desire or fierceness

of my grandmother, who no longer walks with me on the earth but who still whispers to me in my heart

of my aged cousin, who opened the world up before me like a field of flowers and taught me to love each one, even those that have thorns

of the mothers of my mothers, whose faces flash past me out of brown photographs, crumbling letters, lists of names, dusty gravestones, the eyes of my children

of the myriad women who move past and around and through my life, who stay for a moment or years, who teach me and learn from me and laugh with me and mourn with me, whether I've never even seen their faces or could recall their features from memory, the friends, the soulmates, the writers, the poets, the artists, the students, the teachers, the mothers

of the Bitch, and the Wolf, and Lady of the Lake, and the Fire Walker, and Girl in the Woods, of all the threads in the weave

of the earth, of the moon

I am blessed to live within these borders. I am fortunate in my family.

Monday, July 11, 2005

Beat it good

Now, I wonder. Where is all this motivation when I need to be cleaning my floors or doing laundry? I could be doing laundry now, but am I? No, I'm answering emails and blurbing up more of this stupid stuff that keeps zooming around my brain. Why, egads, why???

Shrug. Oh well.

So my car. A few of you have been...erm...lucky enough? have seen my car. It isn't such a bad car, really, except for one thing. It's slowly turning into a beater. It's sort of like when the family dog starts to get a bit aged, but you still love him, and then he starts peeing on the carpet and getting the mange. And yeah, you still love him, but damn that dog!

So, first, there's the inner door handle that the Boy broke. Not too bad, all things said and done--no one really sees it and I don't want him opening his door anyway. But I think it started the downhill slide. The kids started putting their bank stickers on the windows. The front corner has a ding that knocked out the light. Which means I'm not comfortable taking it through a car wash.

I think the time has come to finally bite the bullet and take it into the shop. Maybe then it'll quit peeing on the rug.

Most peculiar, Mama

I just want you to know that I had brilliant, brilliant posts running through my head all damned day long. And then I actually found the time to sit down and write, and--POOF! Gone, daddy, gone. Oh well.

I haven't really said anything about London. It's upsetting, obviously, and tragic, and awful. And for me, having lived there during the Gulf War and the IRA bombing of Victoria Station, very ... I don't know. Strange, in a way I can't describe. I remember being late to get to Clapham Junction, and then getting there and it being just a mass of people and no train and then hearing what had happened, and trying to get all the way across London by bus. Planting the bomb on that bus, that, I think, was especially horrible. The friends I have there are safe, thankfully, but I'm just so saddened by violence, and by the diatribes against the villainous "them". I can't help but believe that all this "us" and "them" is what puts us all in the middle of this shit in the first place. It's easy to demonize a faceless enemy, a "them" that has no heart. And once people start losing those they love, it becomes harder and harder to break out of the cycle of revenge. All I can do is find kindnesses to put out into the world, I think, and breathe, do tonglen, pray, love as much as I can, try not to live in anger. Try to see people, and not shadows. In some small way, maybe that will help. I don't know.

Wednesday, July 06, 2005


Why, oh why, does 303 keep calling my cell phone? Who or WHAT the hell is 303? 303. It isn't even a real phone number. And if I answer, there's no one there. So why? WHY? It's TORMENTING me.

I bet it's Tom Cruise. Bastard.

Tuesday, July 05, 2005

Hosta? Who's hosta?

I'm obsessed with shrubs and trees and chair rails and all the projects I'll be working on in another 6 months. Of course that gives me plenty of distractions from the projects I should be working on now. Funny how that works, eh?

Monday, July 04, 2005

Head like a planet

Happy 4th, everyone. I have to admit that I like the idea of a holiday that celebrates our country's liberation from a lousy administration. Ahem.

Well, here are words I never thought I'd write, but here goes: The reunion was So. Much. Fun. Seriously. I went to the 10th and it was just like what Muse pictured...everyone trying to prove they were no longer the same as in high school or that they were exactly the same as in high school. But this one was just a bunch of people who had, for the most part, figured out a thing or two--enough to know that they hadn't figured out much of anything, really--and just thought it was kind of cool to see people who knew them when they were kids. I talked with people I used to hang out with in junior high, people I'd never said more than two words to in high school, the guy who once tried to beat me up in 3rd grade...and everyone was nice. Everyone was happy. Everyone was actually pretty wonderful, even the people I knew had nothing in common with me. It was as though everyone had given up those chips on their shoulders. And the folks who weren't ready to that--well, I guess they chose not to waste their time on the thing. It was the most relaxed, enjoyable social gathering I've been to in years. Totally surreal, because let me tell you--I hated high school. I mean, I was unbelievably shy and totally neurotic. And I'm certainly not at my best now...or maybe I am. Hmm.

And the Chica and I drove out together with the Chiclette, who was, as usual, a riot. We picked up a copy of the Weekly World News on the way back for entertainment and I'll tell ya. I admire a rag that doesn't even try to hide the fact that it is total BS. "Noah's Second Ark Found" by "Dr. Adam N. Deeve". Ohhhh, that wacky World News. I did some work for my Mom around the house, and we sat around and paged through old "Better Homes & Gardens" for ideas for the new house. It was a great weekend, and I hope things were just as lovely for all of you. And thank you all, btw, for the kind words, as always.