Damn the torpedoes
I just learned to play the guitar. At 2 a.m., after several shots of vodka, I learned the C and G cords on my guitar. Damn, I love that Johnny Cash strumming!This is like the coolest night of my life. Way better than the first time I had sex. Thanks Andréa. You're the best!I don't even care that my fingers are on fire, I have to get up for work in three and a half hours and I still don't know my lines for the play. Those two cords are so totally MINE! Now, if only I could get from one cord to the other it'd be ALL good!
Unfortunately, I don't think I'll have that down by the time you want to play at Loplop tomorrow - uh, later today. I am not sure I will even be able to type later today.
I am the night 
At the doctor's office I saw the sweetest thing the other day. This couple that must be in their 80s easily, so frail and fragile looking, both of them, were at the doctor's office together. When the receptionist called the woman in, she helped the man to stand so he could help her stand and he held her purse while she went in to see the doctor. When she came out they helped each other with their coats and leaned on each other for support as they left. They were like a well oiled machine, needing no words and just doing what needs to be done for one another. I thought about what my life will be like. Will I always be able to sharpen my own knives? Will I always be able to look after myself and do what needs to be done for myself? What will happen to me if I need help with something? Sometimes alone for the rest of my life can be a little frightening but it still won't make me eat cream cheese Danish when I want maple pecan. So I guess all that's left now, since someone else ate the last maple pecan Danish, is to bake my own cookies and hope that I die before I can no longer look after myself. A song I've been listening to goes something like this Pearls that swim the rift of me Long and weary my road has been I was lost in the cities Alone in the hills No sorrow I feel For anything I feel yeah I am not your rolling wheels I am a highway I am not your carpet ride I am the sky Friends and liars Don't wait for me Cause I'll get on All by myself Put millions of miles Under my heels And still too close to you I feel I am not your rolling wheels I am the highway I am not your carpet ride I am the sky I am not your blowing wind I am the sky here I am not your autumn moon I am the night The night I am not your rolling wheels I am the highway I am not your carpet rag I am the sky I am not your blowing wind I am the lightening I am not your autumn moon I am the night It's by Audioslave and it's called I am the Highway. I like to listen to it while I drive. 
Oops, phone call, be right back. Friend on the phone. Promises made. Notes to self: 1. Eat. Eat food. Eat food now. 2. Get off computer and clean house. 3. Make the calls. You promised. I am NOT going to let yo weasel out this time. Okay, gone to eat some food and make some calls.
Burning Down the House
Some people say that dreams of a house represent dreams of the self. They say that the rooms in the house symbolize different aspects of the personality.
I would go further and say that my basement, in real life, represents my self-image, my body-image.
The basement of my house is the most incredibly horrible mess anyone has ever seen. There are unpacked boxes from when I moved to my parents place in 2001. I don't want to look in these boxes so they stay closed and stacked to the side. There are clothes that I am hanging on to because I may someday be that size again. There are snowshoes I'll never use stacked in a corner and dirty laundry all over the floor. Kids' toys have escaped from the boxes I piled them in when cleaning the girls' rooms and remnants of old broken kitchen toys are piled high on the shelves. A huge pile of boxes of stuff to give away is stacked near the bottom of the stairs and all the off season decorations clutter a corner.
My basement, my body image, is a cluttered maze of unwanted items and emotional land-mines.
So I just don't go down there unless I really really have to. Avoiding it is much easier than dealing with it.
The problem is, that's where the washer and dryer are. I don't do laundry very often. As a matter of fact, I usually decide which black shirt and pants I will wear today based on which ones smell best and have the least dog fur on them. Eventually, though, I do have to make the dreaded trip down there to wash mine and the kids' clothes.
It's truly disgusting to look at all the stuff I have to deal with so I just get the laundry done as fast as I can and get the hell out of there.
There's another problem though.
If the basement symbolizes my body image, then the dog could symbolize my sexuality. He gets fed in the basement. It's the only place to keep his food and bowls. On realistic terms, I usually make my kids feed him because I just can't bring myself to go down there and wait for him to eat. That is the most horrible feeling of all. Having to stay in the body-image long enough to satisfy an appetite. So, does anyone want a nice dog that is a little malnourished? Okay, is in danger of starving to death (the symbolic dog, not the real one).
One solution a friend of mine suggested is to just toss a match in the basement and burn it down. Unfortunately that would probably take the whole house with it. If it were only me involved, it wouldn't be a problem. Not much of a loss at all. But it isn't only me involved. Where would my kids live if my house was gone?
Hmmm, I say as I play with a lighter. Anyone want a couple of really nice kids and a starving dog?
Today I tried a different kind of Danish from Tim Horton’s.
Chocolate is my character flaw but maple pecan Danishes are my secret pleasure. I wait weeks, driving by Tim Horton’s when I crave them, sometimes circling the block several times before driving on and enjoying the self-denial. I budget sugar, calories and grams of fat so I can just allow myself a single 460 calorie 25 grams of fat brain masher because I really really want one. I dig change out of the sofa and am willing to walk or ride my bike to Tim Horton’s so I can get one when I’m finally ready to let myself have it.
Today I decided I really needed one, even though I had one only nine days ago. I pulled up to the drivethrough, riddled with guilt both at being in a drivethrough and at my plan to eat the sticky sweetness I was anticipating.
“One large coffee, milk and two sugar please and a maple pecan Danish,” I said to the little box.
“Just a sec, Hon, I’ll have to see if we have any of those ones,” said the box back to me.
After a brief pause which I used to imagine the sweet gooey goodness making my tongue swell and the sensual scrape of the pecans sliding across the roof of my mouth the box spoke the words I’ve always dreaded.
“I’m sorry, all we have right now are cream cheese and cherry Danish,” it said.
In the following seconds of panic two thoughts chased each other around my head like a dog and a cat on a tear. ‘Try something new,’ barked the dog. ‘Drive to another Tim’s and get what you really want. Don’t settle!’ hissed the cat.
“I’ll take a cream cheese Danish,” I said, mentally congratulating myself for not wasting gas and money to go looking for the maple pecan this time.
‘Change is good,’ I reassured myself. ‘Maybe you’ll find a new favorite, one that isn’t quite as bad for you.’
So I ate the cream cheese Danish.
From the first bite I knew it wasn’t what I wanted but I kept eating it, hoping to cultivate a taste for it.
Nope.
It was totally unsatisfying. Right to the very last bite. It wasn’t bad. There was nothing wrong with it. It just wasn’t what I wanted.
So the next time Tim Horton’s doesn’t have what I want, I will say no thank you to all of it.
“Just the coffee, then, please,” I will say.
And I will keep coming back to see if I can have another maple pecan Danish. They can keep the rest of it.
Too Funny
So there I was visiting Curt over at Better Than Crabs when I came across one of those very cool time wasters. Apparently Carol cannot regurgitate and can clean her ears with her tongue which is 39 inches long.I put in a bunch of other people's names, too.Dana is born white; her pink feathers are caused by pigments in her typical diet of shrimp and grapes explode if you put them inside Dana!Influenza got its name because people believed the disease was caused by the evil "influence" of Nova and over 2000 people have now climbed Nova, with roughly ten percent dying on the way down.Chris has 118 ridges around the edge, can taste with his feet and ancient Chinese artists would never paint pictures of Chris.Medieval knights put the skin of Amanda on their sword handles to improve the grip. Amanda is the male seed of a flower blossom which has been gathered and treated by bees!Kyle is picked, sorted and packed entirely in the field, has four noses and is the only planet that rotates on its side. Tradition allows women to propose to Kyle only during leap years.If you put a drop of liquor on Fluffy, he will go mad and sting himself to death and in Eastern Africa you can buy beer brewed from Fluffy.The average duration of sexual intercourse for Jerry is two minutes. (See, I didn't make that up!). Jerry has enough fat to produce 32 bars of soap and ostriches stick their heads in Jerry not to hide but to look for water!But the funniest by far was this one: - The liquid inside Craig can be used as a substitute for blood plasma.
- If you don't get out of bed on the same side you got in, you will have Craig for the rest of the day.
- Olympic badminton rules say that Craig must have exactly fourteen feathers.
- If you chew gum while peeling Craig then it will stop you from crying!
- Craig was declared extinct in 1902!
- During the reign of Peter the Great, any Russian nobleman who chose to wear Craig had to pay a special Craig tax.
- Koalas sleep for 22 hours a day, two hours more than Craig.
- Humans share about fifty percent of their DNA with Craig.
- If you kiss Craig for one minute you will burn six or seven calories.
- A chimpanzee can learn to recognize itself in a mirror, but Craig can not.
A monkey's uncle
Here I was expecting absolutely nothing and ended up with more bling, yum, cuddly things and pretties than I've had in this lifetime if you add all the Valentine's Days together.
Wow! How'd that happen?
It all started when Jason, a media friend, slipped me the late birthday gift (shiny 'C' key chain) and Valentine's gift (chocolate hearts) over coffee this morning.
Then my kids came home with a cake that Dana won at school and we went shopping. They picked me out the monkey and I went to cover a school board meeting. The chair, Wanda, slipped me the rose on our way out and Mario, the director, passed me a little box of Laura Secord chocolates.
There were also cards and cookies from my kids (courtesy of my ex and his girlfriend believe it or not) and a card from an old friend. (Damn skeletons keep getting out of the closet).
As I said, wow, what a day!
A year later...No, I have not jettisoned all the progress.A year ago, yesterday, I wrote this:
The Brutality of Kindness
Talk to me, like lovers doWalk with me, like lovers doSleep with her, like lovers doLeave me outside, like masters doLook at me, like lovers doListen to me, like lovers doEmbrace with her, like lovers doFeel sorry for me, like masters doI am the fat, old, shambling dogWalking loyally at your heelsShe is the lithe, young, graceful mateStanding proudly beside youDeNile is a river of hopeI am over my head and drowning slowlyBe a real friend and cut off my legsTurns out the man was a real friend and was kind enough to cut off my legs. This was actually very cool, (although it was a little uncomfortable at the time), because I found out I can swim just fine even with no legs. I even managed to climb on out of the river of DeNile. -- I hope!Yup, I got better.I'm still in love with him but its much different. Maybe more like a deep and abiding respect and affection rather than love, what ever the hell love is. I'll probably love him forever, but he isn't the only one I will love forever and may not even be the last.It may sound bitter but my tone was sincerely realistic when I recently described my situation like this:"I'm head over heals in live-die-and-kill-for-love with a guy who is in happily-ever-after-love with the woman of his dreams."A friend of mine thinks I'm suffering because I am alone and in love with a man who will never love me. He's wrong.I am alone but seldom lonely. Many people in relationships are also sometimes lonely. It's life.The man I love is happy with his life the way it is and that makes me happy. It gives me joy to know that he is loved and appreciated the way he should be, the way he deserves, even if it isn't me loving him. If someone comes into my life that moves me and makes me want to love again, I will. I won't settle for someone I don't want to be with just to avoid loneliness.What ever life holds for me I will embrace and enjoy to the fullest of my ability, whether it be alone or with a partner.If nothing else, I've learned that wishing for what I cannot have and probably isn't even real is a sure way to bring me down. That would be a waste of fun times. Better to enjoy my life as it is, than to wish it were something else. Makes it easier to endure the lonely times that are sure to come every now and then.
Uncomplications 
This is it. Tomorrow is *ARGH* Valentine's Day.
Oh Lord how I HATE that day. Christmas doesn't even come close as the most reviled of holidays.
But this year, I'm going to take a different approach. Nova is seriously into the whole idea of Valentine's Day. She begged me to buy and put up decorations, put out candy and even get her some new pink clothes to wear for the party at school.
How I ever ended up mother to the girliest girlie girl in the world I do not know but pink does look nice beside black, anyway, so I'm good with it.
Actually, I had none of those usual feelings of dread over being one of maybe five people I know who will be single on Valentines Day this year. Especially after my last horrifyingly wrong attempt at a 'relationship', it's a relief to be single with no possibilities for a relationship anywhere on the horizon.
This year for Valentine's Day, I will celebrate the great relationship I have with my daughters. The deep, meaningful and fulfilling relationship I have with my job will also be celebrated. Hey, at least it doesn't snore, hog the covers or expect sex when it comes home smelling like Channel #5 at 3 a.m. after a 'hockey practice'.Last week I paid someone $20 to plow my driveway very well. It was a man, but it could have been a woman driving the truck for all I care. I don't even know what the man looks like. All I have is a phone number, a first name and drop off location for the cash. Don't even need to talk to the man. Just put in a call and the driveway is done when I get home. Doesn't get any better than that.The knife sharpener I bought a while ago cost $14.95. The jar opener I picked up at the dollar store for, guess what, a dollar. If we really must talk about sex, there are some very interesting toys to be had for pretty cheap.
I need a man for what? 
Valentine's Day? HA, bring it on! As a matter of fact, I believe I will just go out and buy myself some sexy lingerie to strut around the house in all by myself feeling pretty and uncomplicated.
This year the theme for Valentine's Day in my house will be uncomplicated.
Blizzards and winds of change 
I feel something coming.
Not sure what it is but something is coming in faster and more frightening than a winter storm.
The darkness is trying to hold my heart but my heart wants to squint in the sunlight again. I'm wishing to be free of this eternal night.This is me, opening my door to the groundhog. Come, spring. Come, light and love. Come into my life and open my heart like the delicate flower it is. If only it were not such a delicate flower.
The door is open, now if I could just take a few steps out from behind it.I've tried to join the dance of life many times before but always retreated to the wings to watch. I'm watching now. Craig is singing "Working Class Hero" at the Bean. It's nice to work while I listen and watch, just to know there is human contact out there for the partaking of, even from the wings.
