My Papa's Waltz

The poetry word for the day per Mona is DANCE. I have been looking for an excuse to give you one of my favorite poems, this is it. I did not write it, unfortunately. If i had been able to write this i think that my life would have taken a different path.

Please take the time to read it out loud, even if only to yourself. Any errors are mine and i apologize for them. I am working from memory here.

My Papa's Waltz

The whiskey on your breath
Could make a small boy dizzy;
But I hung on like death:
Such waltzing was not easy.

We romped until the pans
Slid from the kitchen shelf;
My mother's countenance
Could not unfrown itself.

The hand that held my wrist
Was battered on one knuckle;
At every step you missed
My right ear scraped a buckle.

You beat time on my head
With a palm caked hard by dirt,
Then waltzed me off to bed
Still clinging to your shirt.

-Theodore Roethke

I studied Roethke when i was getting my first college degree. I felt a special connection to him all through high school and college. He taught at the University of Washington, where i completed my useless liberal arts degree. Long before i went there, but still. He drowned in the Boedel's swimming pool, out on Bainbridge Island. I visted the Bloedel Reserve last year and saw the swimming pool, which is now a zen garden and filled in with sand. I discomfitted our tour guide by asking if this indeed was THAT pool.

You will find no comfort here
In the kingdom of bang and blab.

-a tiny bit of one of Theodore Roethke's longer poems.

Pillow talk

Ok, on to more serious stuff.

It's Wednesday already! That's enough!

I don't know why but this one silly little hour has kicked my butt. I usually wake up about a half an hour before the radio turns on and then twitch and wiggle for a while. Does this annoy the Mister? I am sure it doesn't.

The Mister gets up at 6:30 and leaves the house with Em at 6:50. (There is not much prep time required. I need more tme, but i am MUCH MORE attractive when i do leave.)

I usually get up right after they leave and make tea and feed the cats (not in that order.) But this week i have lain there in a stupor so long each morning that i risk being late to whatever awaits me that day. Which is not like me because i hate being late. It also causes the cats to stomp on my head and loudly voice their opinions. Which causes me to resort to the flying pillow trick. Which buys me another 30 seconds.

We just need more pillows on the bed.

So here i am talking about it.

I got into a discussion with someone last week about religion. I usually don't mention my religious leanings unless someone specifically asks, which she did. I told her that i am not religious, which sounds less harsh than atheist.

"So you are an atheist," she declared excitedly, with that evangelical gleam in her eye. So much for trying to hide behind make nice words.

Her basic argument (were we even having an argument when i was just saying "uh-huh" or "i see"?) went along the lines that religion is necessary or else people would not feel compelled to behave. I listened politely and hoped that my phone would ring or a meteorite would crash through the ceiling.

It's the old atheist = immoral theory.

I hate this theory. I don't steal, cheat, murder or commit adultery because i have standards, not because i am afraid of going to hell.

Is it true that religious people only behave out of fear? I don't think so. It seems to me that she insulted both of us.

This is why i avoid talking about religion. Better get rid of that scarlet A on my forehead then.

My life as an addict

If you are of an age with me, then you will remember those horrible, scary anti-drug movies that we were shown in school starting at around 4th grade.

There were slimy pushers chasing people down dark alleys with dripping hypodermic needles. There were hapless ingesters of LSD flinging themselves out of windows thinking they could fly. There were girls who would get into cars with strange men and were never seen or heard from again.

I used to wake up with nightmares from these movies. When i learned that it could all start with sniffing glue i was petrified. I was a glue sniffer. I had taken a bottle of Elmer's glue once and wooshed all the air out into my face. I had then turned and done the same to the girl sitting next to me in art glass where we were making glittery valentine's cards, so she knew about my perversion too. The shame and the fear were overwhelming.

It's easy to laugh about this now, but for a while i truly believed that i was a heroin addict and that it was only a matter of time before the rest of the world found out. When i would somehow be reminded of my addiction my heart would pound and i would run away from wherever i was as fast as possible.

Once i came out of my house and my neighbor's dad, who was restoring a car, had a pot of glue he was using to reattach the convertible top. He saw me hanging around and said something like, "Want a sniff?" He was teasing but...

OH MY GOD! He knew about me! How did that happen? I ran home and hid in my room, waiting for the inevitable. He would come over and tell my parents that i was a heroin addict and i would get into BIG BIG BIGTROUBLE. (Trouble, that starts with T, that rhymes with G that stands for GLUE!)

I was an odd kid. But there was no one whom i could ask about these things and put my fears to rest. I told Em this story once as an example of how a kid can make huge leaps of logic and scare the crap out of themselves worrying.

You won't believe what i did when i learned that you could get rickets from too little sun.

Because I'm a follower

From Gary, via Mona, this Friday's word is tea.

Tea story the first) I have many different kinds of tea in my tea drawer. I don't drink coffee (WHAT? You live in the Seattle area and don't drink coffee? Is that legal? Are you a communist?)

My tea has magical qualities. When Em is upset about something i always offer to make her a cup of tea. Her response is, "Yes, please. Tea always helps." Even if she won't tell me what the problem is, a cup of tea will be well received.

As a mom, i cannot cure the ills of the teenage world, or any world, but i can make a cup of tea and add honey and milk and cinnamon and ginger and some love and make it all a tiny bit better.

Tea story the second) Every morning i make and consume a large mug of tea. I spend a few moments deciding which tea it will be this morning; Decaf Organic Green Tea? Passion by Tazo? (Oh! the smell!) Loose Leaf Roobios Tea? (has a bit of an unfortunate smell, but tastes great.) Chai?.....

What should i add? Honey? Soy Milk? (Can't do that if it's a fruit tea as it will curdle.) Ginger? Half and Half? (If i am feeling decadent.) Lemon?....

Then i settle back into my bed with a cat, maybe two cats and spend some time sipping my tea and slowing moving my brain from sleep mode to wake mode. I treasure this time.

A true statement

Em and i went out to dinner together last night. You don't even want to know what prompted this statement:

"Mom, i'm not going to have gay sex with a man!"

We disrupted the rather quiet restaurant laughing.

Today's Housekeeping Tip

Get a cat. Compassion alone prevents me from having to make the bed.

Morbid introspection

The Mister in in NY for a few days. I feel a sense of profound loneliness. Which is odd, because even when he is in town we don't interact very much during the day. Em is here, but she's absorbed in her world.

I am thinking about all of you woman who are alone through divorce. Does it get easier? In my own experience, when we were separated many years ago, it did get easier, but it took awhile, and came and went.

There is a difference in the house when he is here, but in another room, from when he is just not here.

The psychological scuttlebutt is that we tend to marry our more difficult parent. Not literally of course, there are laws against that. Plus, ewwww. I have never been able to see my mother in the Mister. But in some ways i can see it in me. As in i can see a few similarities between me and the Mister's father. That is a hard sentence to type as the Mister's dad was an ass. Not an intentional ass, but a thoughtless ass. His world view was not impinged upon by the opinions of others.

That is not the part that is like me, i was stalling. The part that is like me is that the Mister looks to me for approval. Which i, um, kind of parcel out miserishly.

It makes me uncomfortable when a person is obvious about seeking my approval. Picture me looking at the person as if they had just farted. I just realized that i consider it to be a social gaffe. It embarrasses me. The last thing i want to do is appear needy, and it makes me uncomfortable when someone else appears needy.

We are all needy. Some of us (me) are just better at hiding it.

Meno, trying to make sense of it all and instead making a bit of a muddle.

*********************

i want to thank you all for leaving your silly jokes. I had a great time reading them. Save up your good ones for next time.

Annual Joke Post

Em told me this joke this morning:

A woman goes into a bar. The bartender asks her what she'd like. "I'd like a Double Entendre please." So her gave her a stiff one.

This from my 16 year old.

As a blatant rip off of Prairie Home Companion's annual joke show, i'm going to try it here. This will prove once and for all that i have no pride or sense of propriety. There should be something to offend everyone here. Here are a few of my favorite stupid jokes:

Q: How do you circumcise a whale?
A: Four skin divers.

Q: What did the salmon say when he ran into a cement wall?
A: Dam!
(Em told me this one when she was 6.)

Q: Why do lawyers* wear neckties?
A: To keep their foreskins from covering their heads.
*use whatever profession you like, doctors, accountants, newspaper columnists, i bear no particular ill-will towards lawyers.

Q: How many radical feminists does it take to change a lightbulb?
A: (glaring) That's NOT FUNNY!


Oh please oh please leave me your favorite stupid joke, or two. God knows i need some new material.

Frivolousity

I am having a good hair day.

I got my hair cut last week. Why is it that when i get my hair cut the person cutting it feels compelled to style it in a manner that i cannot, and do not want to reproduce? She puts on goo, and blows it dry with round brushes and then, as a finishing touch, puts on more goo. It's all straight and beaten into submission. I like a little curl in my hair. At least i have cured her of using hair spray.

I had to come home and wash my hair to see how it would really look. I wonder if she would freak out if i asked her to let me dry it and then i could see how it really looked.

Anyone a hairdresser out there? What do you think?

Ick

This is weird.

As some of you may remember, i volunteer at a place that does counseling for kids. I don't do any counseling, as i lack the qualifications, but i do some of the initial screening.

I have a friend, Stacey, who i met in my quilting group (yes, me, quilting. What?) who has been having problems with her 15 year old daughter for the past several months.

Last week when she saw me she came over to talk with me right away and was visibly upset. Her daughter had again refused to go to school and had barricaded herself in her room. Stacey had agreed to let her stay home from school on the condition that she go to see someone. Stacey wanted my advice about the place i work, whom to call and what to say. So i told her what to do.

When i came in later that week for my usual shift, i found out that the daughter is involved with drugs. Also, since the daughter is over 13, she can claim medical privacy for any counseling services.

Bottom line, legally, I can't tell Stacey that her daughter is using drugs. She has no idea. I mean no idea.

I feel terrible. I know she would help her daughter and not beat her or anything horrid like that. I would want to know if it was Em.

I am trying to think about the fact the the daughter is going to get help and start counseling. That's a good thing.

As the Mister said, "Welcome the the Mental Health Profession."

Old Meno, New Meno, Red Meno, Blue Meno

I blatantly swiped this concept from Mother of Invention. (And isn't that a great moniker?)

Name 6 to 8 ways you’ve changed and stayed the same over the last half of your life.

Ways i have stayed the same:

1) I am still tall. :) Maybe someday i will start to shrink.

2) I still love to read, although now i am quite willing to put a book down that i don’t like and never pick it up again. It used to be a point of honor to never start a book without finishing it. Now i think that’s silly, life is too short.

3) I still believe in being reliable. If i say i will do something or be somewhere, i will. I do not believe in thinking “Yes, unless i get a better offer.”

4) I love animals. Cats, dogs, rats, snakes, bunnies, horses, etc. Not so much the insects though.

5) My emotional walls are high.

6) I am a loyal friend.

7) I am not forgiving. I wish that had changed. But if someone messes with you once, chances are good they will do it again.

Ways i have changed:

1) I know that we cannot be healed of our pain by another person. They can help, but the real work has to be done by me. Dammit!

2) I never thought I would want or have children. I was wrong.

3) I was confident that marriage was forever. Now I know that this isn’t true. That sounds bitter, but it really means that you never know what is going to happen in your life. So don’t be so smug, you are begging for a smackdown. (This means you meno.)

4) I am not the center of the universe. This one took me a while to figure out. It still hurts to say it.

5) I am really good at not taking an action personally when I can see that it is clearly not about me. For example, a woman who I used to work with never liked me. From day one. This was really her problem, not something wrong with me, since she was unpleasant to me right off the bat. Maybe I reminded her of someone else. But who knows, or really, who cares?

6) I am athletic now. Not that I am very good at it, but I just keep swimming (or walking, or whatever.)

7) I am much less likely to lose my temper, and much more likely to feel awful about it when I do.

8) I know how to apologize and mean it.

Try a little respect

Every year i round up my three cats, stuff them into boxes, and haul them, yowling and scared, off to the vets. I am also supposed to bring a stool sample. I call this "the herd and a turd."

This year they all needed three shots of some liquid worming medicine. They each got the first dose at the vets. For the next dose, i enlisted the help of the Mister to hold them down while i forced a syringe between their little gritted teeth. They did not accept this placidly. Especially our girl cat who is normally so skittish and timid. I even wrapped her in a towel but she fought like a wildcat and scratched the crap out of the Mister's arm. I think all three of them spit out more than they received.

I dreaded the next dose, but i am very obedient when it comes to Doctor's orders. So i thought i would try a different approach.

I sat down next to Betsy (the aforementioned wildcat) and explained it to her calmly. "Look Betsy, you have worms in your butt. I need you to take this medicine so you will be all better," and on like that in what i hoped was a soothing tone. I showed her the syringe and let her sniff it. And damn if she didn't just sit there and let me give her the medicine. I wasn't even holding her

The same approach worked with the boys too. I wish i had thought of this a long time ago, although i wonder if it will work next time.

I feel like the Cat Whisperer.

Wretched Excess 1 and 2

1) I rarely watch TV (Sometimes i watch the Daily Show and The Colbert Report) and I make clam dip once a year.

Tonight i am going to wallow unabashedly in both these things. I will take my clam dip and potato chips, get my jammies on and sit in front of the TV to watch the Oscars. This year Em will be joining me. You should join us too. Come on, it'll be fun. Even the Mister will participate. I make great clam dip.

Last year was cursed; there i was with my bowl of dip and eagerly awaiting the glitz feeding frenzy to come. Our cable chose that moment to go out. So there i was, all dressed down, with my bowl of pure artery clogging happiness and no where to go. Sadness. I felt like i had been stood up for a date. I hope this year is not a repeat

To me the best part of watching the Oscars is reading the recaps the next day. I'm excited.

2) Yesterday the Mister and i went to a fancy pants linen place and bought two sets of outrageously expensive sheets. No, i am not going to tell you how much. I slept naked last night.

Cookie box

The word for the day is cookie, courtesy of Mona's daughter. So here is the memory that cookie dredged up from the vast cavernous regions of my brain.

When i was 6, i decided to run away from home because i was sad. I don’t remember the specific incidents that led up to my momentous decision, but i’m sure life was just intolerable. When i told my mother about my plans her reply was, “Go ahead.”

I made extensive plans - such as filling up an empty toothpaste tube box with vanilla wafers, because they fit just so into the box, and wrapping the box in a bandana. And because this is how one runs away, I spent some time looking for a stick to tie my bandana to but got bored with that and left carrying my bandana.

I marched indignantly as far as the tree house across the street, climbed up inside, ate all my cookies and fell asleep. I was going to live there forever. Or until dinner time as it turned out.

Stupid Meno tricks

A long time ago, clearly in a galaxy far far away....

The scene: I am sitting in some crappy house, with crappy people i don't know, except for my roommate from college. They are some of her skanky high school friends. We are smoking dope and listening to loud music.

Cultural reference: It used to be a point of honor to never change the water in your bong. So it became increasingly loathsome, brown and crudy. If you were really cool, you used beer.

Action: It is my turn with the bong. As i inhale i accidently drop my gum down into the bong. Ooops. If i had know these people i might have laughed and confessed. So, trying to get my gum back before anyone notices, i tip the bong up, so the gum will come back to me. Good thinking, no?

What happened next: All the gross, hideous, slimy bong water spills all over my face and clothes. Everone looks at me, wondering why in the hell i tried to drink the bong water.

Conclusion: Why do you think they call it dope?

I was cool when i was 18.

How hard would it have been to say some kinder words instead? *

As previously mentioned in Sunday's exciting installment of Meno's life, my parents came and took the Mister and i out to lunch. The occasion is that today is the Mister and my 25th wedding anniversary. (I got married when i was 6, do the math.)

Saturday night i was thinking about the lunch, and thinking that i really should try and grow up a little and forgive my mom. She is trying hard to be nice and thoughtful (now that i am all growed up), and really, how long should i hold this grudge?

They brought us the dishes, as i said, and a card and four bottles of wine from Silver Lake Winery. You know because 25 years = silver. The fact that they get a discount at Silver Lake because they own some shares has nothing to do with it.

So after we all get into the car to head off for lunch my mom pipes up with this (Go for a disbelieving tone here.), "Can you believe you two have been married for 25 years?"

The Mister and i glanced over at one another. Several answers came to me:
1.) Dear God it feels like 50!
2.) What, did you lose a bet?
3.) It's just not to be believed, is it!
4.) I've been meaning to tell you that we're getting divorced mom, we just wanted the wine.

See how i am?

There were a few moments of silence as neither of us knew quite what to say.

Then she proceeded to order my dad around and be generally unpleasant to him all during lunch.

This derailed my great forgiveness plan until further notice.

*from Long Ride Home by Patty Griffin.

The Bestowing of Stuff

My parents came over this afternoon to take the Mister and i out for lunch.

It becomes more and more difficult to go anywhere with them. There is always much confusion and fuss getting out the door, getting into the car, getting the seatbelts on, getting out of the car, walking to the restaurant, getting in the door, and etc. The Mister and I are trying to be helpful, which just confuses the situation further. I am exhausted.

My parents (and i have to stop for a minute here and say how much i appreciate that they are doing this instead of waiting until it is done to them) have selected a retirement home and are in the process of preparing for the move. The retirement home should be ready in about a year (it's being built). My mother has been talking about and preparing for this for about a year already. Everytime i am at their house she asks me if i want this set of dishes or that soup tureen or the chinese vase they got many years ago in the Phillipines.

I am not a person who values stuff very much, even if those are the dishes i grew up with.

So my parents arrive today with four large boxes filled with dishes from one of her many sets. "You said you wouldn't mind having these," she told me.

"I did?" i replied, "why, thank you." I'll have to be more careful in the future. She went on to further explain to me how only a few of the dishes have very many chips and that they have lasted a long time and when i have large dinner parties (me? HA!) they will come in handy.

Looks like Em has a set of dishes for her first house. I'll put the boxes in the basement next to the soup tureen.

Good thing we have a big basement.

Fascists!

I was forced, forced into switching to the new blogger tonight. Doesn't blogger know that no means no?

It's not that there's really anything wrong with it, but i hate being told what to do, even if it's what i wanted to do anyway.

So far it looks like all is well, i changed the colors myself, in mourning honor of the occasion. Have you ever read their user agreement? I did, as a stalling tactic (like a pouting 6 year old) tonight. Yeesh, what a bunch of legalistic babble.

They are not responsible for anything, even my fucking offensive swearing.

I know this post is unworthy of me, and especially of you, but Meno is in a snit.

*stamps large feet*

Letting go

I was/am a Navy brat. So every three or four years we moved. The first couple of moves i was too young to care, but after that it became more difficult. When i was seven, we moved from San Diego to Virginia.

For the entire five years we lived in Virginia, i blamed all my problems on the move. People in Virginia weren't friendly. There were gnats and crickets in the summer and cold and ice in the winter. How could anyone live in this place and be happy? I longed for California. I spent summers there with my cousins and it was so great.

I was disabused of that notion when i was 12 and moved from Virginia to Seattle. I started to blame all my problems on Seattle. And then i went "But wait! All my problems are because of Virginia."

Sometimes someone will ask me if i think that moving around like we did was a good thing or a bad thing. The answer is yes.

I think it taught me how hard it is to move somewhere where you know absolutely no one. How utterly lonely it is to start the first day of school alone, (especially in the 8th grade, that sucked.)

Whatever, whine whine. The lasting effect i think it had on me is that it's easy for me to let people go when they or i move away. I already know the cycle of letter writing and phone calls and how those will diminish over time and the memory of that person and what they once were to me fades. So i skip those steps and give up right away.

I am not proud of this. I think it's a defect.

I wish i still knew someone that i went to high school, or even college with. I guess you could count the Mister because i met him in college. He and i have moved together 3 or 4 times too. San Jose, Seattle, Colorado, back to Seattle.

We do have one friend that we still know and love from when we were in San Jose.

Hmmm, i just had another thought (stand back, i might explode).... Most of the people that i have made friends with in a new place were friendships of convenience. So maybe i just didn't like most of them enough to make the long distance part work.

And what does that say about me?

I love lunch

Those of you with young children think they cramp your "style" with regard to sex. HA!

Little children go to bed at a reasonable hour (well some nights). They don't stay up later than you do and then come wandering over to your room at 10:30 at night looking for fingernail clippers, or some kleenex, or whatever the hell they just have to have at that hour.

They don't usually knock on your CLOSED door. And if they do, they don't have full knowledge of why it took you five minutes to answer the door.

We've had to resort to lunch dates.

She goes to college in a year and a half. I think we'll celebrate in the living room, and the dining room, and the sunroom, and.....

I love my child, you know i do. But, um, teenagers are so damn smart that it's a bit inhibiting, you know?

You love me? Prove it.

I was watching the Grammy Awards last night with the Mister, although i missed the end as it's past my bedtime, and the ads for Valentine's Day were relentless.

Most of these ads are aimed at getting men to buy shit for women. I was feeling the Mister becoming uncomfortable beside me. Is he expected to get me a diamond? Or chocolate?

I'd be pissed if he bought me diamonds, although chocolate...... never mind. I resent these ads. If Valentine's Day isn't a hyped up way to get us consumers to spend money, then i am a short Asian man. It's as offensive as the Christmas ads.

I need a Bah! Humbug! expression for VD.

I am sorry that the Mister feels pressured. I don't want him to buy me a present because Ben Bridge or Sees says he must. Fuck that. That's what i told him. He washed my car, filled it up with gas and bought me the new Patty Griffin album this weekend while i wallowed at home with a head cold.

That's true love. No diamonds necessary.

Positive Baby

Someone i know recently told a group of us that she was expecting her first baby. Here are some of the responses from the group:

"Wow, that's the end of your life as you know it!" (Ha ha)
"Better catch up on your sleep now." (Ha ha)
"Congratulations. Was this a surprise?" (asked in all seriousness)
"Oh, and your life was so peaceful!" (Ha ha)
"God, i hope for your sake it's not twins." (Ha ha)
"Don't you know what causes that?" (Ha ha)

I know that folks are just trying to be funny, but how about a little positive reaction? One of the bloggers that i read has just announced he's pregnant. Well, his wife is, but other than the nausea and the vomiting and the stretch marks and the weight gain and the tearing of flesh it's just the same, Right?

I would like to suggest some alternative remarks to those above when informed about a pregnancy:

"Congratulations. You are going to have so much fun!"
"How exciting."
"I'm so happy for you."
"That is wonderful news."

I'm not saying that having children isn't difficult, at times. But look how great it is too. I remember when Em was about four months old, i wanted to have three more because she was so much fun and so cute. Things didn't work out that way, for various reasons, but i was serious at the time.

So Congratulations, you are going to have so much fun with your baby.

I want to be alone?

I am feeling a bit crappy tonight and as a consequence i just want to be left alone. Of course, i am not smart enough mean enough to say this to the Mister when he comes in the door bellowing hello.

So, logically, i am mean to him. To try and make him go away. Because that is so much nicer than just telling him to please go away and leave me alone. Right?

He rarely wants to be alone (extrovert) and for me it's a common occurrence (introvert). So he wouldn't understand. Or so goes my logic.

After i realized what i really wanted, i had to apologize and tell him. So he is downstairs, leaving me alone, as i requested.

I wonder when he'll be back.

Them's Fightin' Words

Em and i had a fight today.

Here's the genisis of it:

Em gets into the car when i am picking her up from school, "Hi Mommy!"
Meno: Hi sweetie, how was your day?
Em: Okay.
Meno: I was thinking that since you want to start learning to drive soon that you should start paying attention when you are in the car, to see what to do.
Em: (shrilly) You've already told me that a hundred times!
Me: Oh. (It is true that this is the third time i've mentioned this, but when she is in the car with me she is usually either reading or text messaging.)

silence.................

Em: (whining) Now you are mad at me.
Meno: No, i am not particularly angry, but i don't like being spoken to like that.
Em: (shrilly whining) I hate it when you are mad at me!
Meno: I am not mad.
Em: Don't you hate it when i am mad at you?
Meno: No, not really.
Em: (whiningly shrill) Why not?
Meno: Because i know you love me and that you'll get over it.
Em: But what if you are mad at me forever?

And so on. We both arrived home exhausted after the 20 minutes car ride.

Those of you with teenagers on the approaching horizon, get used to this. Those of you with teenagers on the vanishing horizons, i hate you. Those of you with teenagers right here right now, i feel you.

Bott's Dots

I have a Bott's Dot:

I don't know why, but sometimes odd things amuse me. We have these in the road around here because it doesn't snow much. We use them to drive by the braille method.

Recently it did snow and we were all completely flummoxed by 3 inches of the white stuff. So snow plows were used and many of Bott's Dots were pried up off the road by these plows. Oopsie! The Mister heard me talking about them and surmised that i desired one, so we pulled over on a side road that had an after-the-snow Bott's Dot graveyard and picked through them until we found this lovely specimen.

It makes a lousy coaster.

But it is fun to hold in my hand and i like having it. I bet that someone clever with found art would find something wonderful to do with it. They could also use all the rusty hardware from beach detritus that i also can't seem to throw away.
Anyone need some cool nuts and bolts and nails? You can't have my Bott's Dot though.

Colour

You paint a thousand different pictures
with a thousand different brushes.
Each one will be the best
You tell me as you stroke.

And who am i to disbelieve?
Then the colours start to run.
I am running with them,
running with the truth

No picture is ever finished.
No brush is ever cleaned.
The colours all congeal.
The colour of dead dreams.


The Friday word was colour, from Mona. This week that word brought an unexpected response from me.

Raindrops on Roses and Whiskers on Kittens

A leftover picture that i was unable to post yesterday.
Today's big philosophical question: So we can't skip real stones anymore, we have to buy a bit o' plastic with which to skip? What marketing genius came up with this? I would think that kids prefer rocks. (For reference, this......thing.....is about 2.5 inches across.)

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One of my favorite things is to receive a present for no reason. I don't much care about Valentine's Day or Christmas or my birthday. But bring me a present for no other reason than that you saw something that you thought i would like, and i am over the moon.

I try to keep this in mind for other people too, so that i am not just walking around expecting to be showered with random gifts. Which is good, because i seldom am.

I bought my brother a T-shirt a few months ago that had a Shakespeare quote on it that i knew he would like. "And Thus I Clothe My Naked Villany" (from one of the Richards, i think III.) I bought one for myself too. My mother buys things and saves them for the next suitable gift giving occasion, but i always pass stuff on right away, because that's what i think is fun.

Yesterday i brought home a book that i thought the Mister would like. He was genuinely touched. That was fun.

So, when is the last time you surprised someone or were surprised with a present? What was it?

9,000 word essay*

Today i am doing a photo essay. A few months ago i did a post about things that wash up on our beach during storms. Today i went out and took pictures of some of this year's haul, so far.

Hope no one was using this at the time it washed up:

Or this: It looks like fun though, something to play with while i am waiting to be rescued. Oh, never mind, it says on the side :NOT INTENDED FOR USE AS A LIFESAVING DEVICE.

Nice, change the oil, and then throw the container over the side of the boat:

Here is a piece of someone's dock:

And another bit of another dock:

The head of a hoe. The whole hoe washed up, but we burned the rest of it as the handle was broken. The photographer's assistant was not nimble enough to move out of the picture in time.

These didn't wash up, but i thought they were cool. Deer prints:

There are many bits of LPC (Little Plastic Crap) on the beach:

And finally, a picture of the photographer's assistant after a good roll in the sand:

I had more photos, but bugger blogger will not let me upload any more pictures, i have been trying for 4 hours and am all sweaty and peevish. Might be time to get another service or platform or whatever you call it.

* i plagarized this title idea from the clever Maggie.

Triangle

In a family of three, it is bound to feel like a triangle sometimes.

In our family it is Em and i, and then the Mister.

I know he feels left out, he has said so.

Some of it is because Em and i are both female, there is inevitably some bonding over tampons and bras and giggling over ultra-thin maxi pads or ultra-thick mini pads. Some of it is because we are quite similar in personality and that brings a natural affinity too. Some of it is because she and i spend more time together than she and the Mister. I hear all about her day on the way home from school, and by the time the Mister gets home she doesn't want to tell him about it. It's old news.

When we eat dinner, Em positions her body so that she is facing me. She looks at me more, and is very attuned to my facial expressions. I don't think she is doing this consciously. In fact, i often wish she would be less attuned to me. I can't even heave a sigh (which i do with embarrassing frequency) without her asking me what's wrong.

Sometimes a sigh is just a sigh, you know?

I have tried to suggest to the Mister that he make an effort to spend some time with her without me there. This usually translates into him taking her to a bookstore and buying her a bunch of books. Which is not really what i had in mind.

Of course sometimes the fact that Em and i are similar leads us into the bitterest fights. We know just how to get to one another. I wish i could say that i always take the high ground when we fight, but i would be lying if i did. I mean, i try, but sometimes i act like a total wacko bitch.

Poor Mister. One hormonal teenager and one hormonal menopauser.

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A blog that i read that i don't know why more people aren't reading:
clawless

Go Speed Racer.

I hate the way the Mister drives. He tears around parking lots and drives too close behind other cars and scares the bejesus out of me when pedestrians are around.

And he never listens to my helpful suggestions either. Of course most of them are expressed as a sharp intake of breath between my teeth. But he must understand that i mean well. Right?

It can't be because i am a control freak who doesn't trust him to see the danger lurking all around us like i do. It's not his fault, it's just a gift i have.

Just because he's been driving with a high rate of success (and speed) for over 40 years is no reason for me to relax my guard. The very survival of our family might depend upon my vigilance.

Excuse me now, i have to go remove three of my acrylic nails from his dashboard. (Me, acrylic nails. Now there's an image.)

Educating meno

This morning i forced myself to step away from the computer and go swimming. I am glad i did, because after i swam over a mile, i felt like ten bucks.

When i am knifing my way swiftly through the cool blue water, counting the laps in my head, the rest of my mind wanders off into the weeds.

I started thinking about my friend Cheryl from junior high school. I was the biggest goon head in the world back then. (No wise cracks about now please.) My family moved here from across the country between my 7th and 8th grade and i knew absolutely no one the first day of school.

Cheryl was the daughter of one of my parent’s friends, and kindly took pity on this knee sock wearing, glasses bearing, book caring, boy scaring geek.

The first time i smoked dope? Cheryl. The first time i hitchhiked? Cheryl. The first time i swiped cheap gin from my parent’s stash and replaced it with water? Cheryl. The first time some boy groped by AAAs? I was with Cheryl.

She was a real education for me. A “Bad Influence.” If only my parents had been paying attention.

Eventually she grew tired of my unremitting doltishness and gave up on making me cool, but we remained friendly enough through high school and even college.

In college she really started big time on the drugs and sex, having two abortions and spending many nights of debauchery with many different men. Once she told me a story of going home with some guy and having sex with him. When they were done he got up and said, “My roommate is a virgin. Would you mind?”

“Nope, send him in,” she replied.

I was shocked to the core by this life, and not a little fascinated too.

Of course this story doesn’t have a happy ending. Cheryl has spent much of her life in and out of rehab, and even jail. The last time i saw her was at her brother’s funeral. He was killed while driving drunk.

But i remember that funny, quirky, smart ass teenager with the try anything attitude.

Inert

An object at rest tends to remain at rest.

I am suffering from an advanced case of inertia these days. I can’t seem to make myself move. I am doing the bare minimum around the house. Shopping? I won’t have to if i make pistachio and mustard quesadillas for dinner. Mustard is a vegetable, right? Laundry? I can do it later, these pants aren’t really dirty. If i don’t mail this letter today i can leave 5 minutes later to go get Em. The letter can wait until later.

Later being some undefined time whose only important characteristic is that it is not now. Later really meaning never.

There is lots of heavy sighing too.

The problem is that since i don’t work, there’s always plenty of later. Self-discipline has never been my strong suit.

Time to head off to the gym. If i don’t pack clothes and come home to shower i can sit here for 5 minutes longer.

And the worst thing? I am a whiny ass bitch.

People suck

I made a tactical error in my life yesterday.

I try to keep my inner cynic and depressive at bay, but yesterday i failed to protect myself from outside influenes.

First we went to see the movie Pan's Labyrinth. I knew it was going to be wrenching and sad so i set up an emotional wall. A porous wall, but solid enough to protect me from the worst of the emotional impact. So i was able to watch the movie, and my wall held up fairly well.

Last night the Mister and i watched Jarhead because we've had it for a few months from Netflix and it was time to watch it or send it back. I was okay up until the part where a frightened horse appeared in the desert covered with oil that was raining down from the burning oil fields.

I just can't bear it when animals are hurt or frightened by our wars

This morning. Em and i are at our cat cage cleaning gig at the cat adoption center. There was a twelve year old cat in one of the cages. Her owners had surrendered her because (and i quote) "she's not as playful anymore." She's twelve years old people! Of course she's not as playful .

What kind of people are we? Who could do a think like that? A healthy cat that they've had for 12 years and they just dump her off.

That's when i lost it and started crying. Em cried too when she read it. Here we are, the two of us locked into a small room with ten open cat cages and cats weaving around our legs, sobbing and clinging together.

I hate people right now, i really do.

(These are both excellent movies people. Don't let my comments prevent you from seeing either of them.)

The V.B. strikes again

This story is for Esereth.

The Mister went to visit his mother last Sunday. She lives about an hour away, but he hasn’t seen or talked to her in over a year and a half. I could never explain the sad history of all this to you. Let’s just say that his mom has transferred the hate she used to feel for her husband to the Mister, with no reason as he is not like his father. She withholds important information and then gets angry with him for not knowing anyway. She and the Mister’s sister (the vituperative bitch of the title) then talk smack about him.

She called us in the middle of the night a week or so ago, seemingly without reason. As a result of that, he went to visit her in her new assisted living studio apartment.

She is very unhappy in her new tiny home, as she doesn’t really need to be in assisted living yet. The place depresses her. So why is she there?

She moved in there after some advice and pressure from the sister. She also gave up driving at this time, also on the advice of sister. Who then drove off with the car, as she “needed” it.

There were no incidents with MIL’s driving that led to this, just advice from sister. “I really don’t think you should be driving anymore mom, and by the way, can i have your car?”

Nice. Really nice.

The sister is in her late 40s and on her 4th husband. Time to learn to take care of yourself woman.

I feel sorry for MIL, but i gotta say, she did this to herself and it is part of a life long pattern of giving the sister money, cars, furniture or whatever she “needed.”

When she dumped her first husband because she was sleeping with her boss and wanted to marry him, well, after he dumped his wife and the mother of his two kids, my FIL bought her all new furniture for her apartment. (Someday i'll give you the condensed version of her life, hoo boy!)

I told the Mister that he should dump me, get all new furniture, and then we could get back together. Except i don’t pull that kind of crap.

You know, i didn’t mean to go on so long, but i guess i have some feelings about this. It’s like the Mister has always been punished for taking care of himself

Eleven is my favorite number

I was tagged for this by Sari, rhymes with Mary. (I just like saying that!)

1. If you had to choose one vice in exclusion of all others, what would it be?
Red red wine you make me feel so fine
You keep me rocking all of the time
Red red wine you make me feel so grand
I feel a million dollars when you’re just in my hand

2. If you could change one specific thing about the world, what would it be?
Just one? I don’t think so.
I wish everyone wasn’t in such a fucking hurry to get offended and kill people who think/look differently than themselves.
I wish that reliable contraception was accessible to every woman.

3. Name the cartoon character you identify with the most.
Daria, on Nickelodeon.

4. If you could live one day in your life over again, which day would it be?
I think that day on the beach in November with the Mister when i was 21. That day felt like love to me. Well, maybe there was a bit o’ lust in there too.

5. If you could go back in history and spend a day with one person, who would it be?
Hmmm, can i go back and give birth control pills to Hitler’s mom?
Ok ok, Dorothy Parker.

6. What is one thing you lost, sold, or threw away that you wish you had back?
This series of cartoons that i drew with a friend in 7th grade. They were titled “The adventures of Mish Mouse.” Debbie was exceptionally talented at drawing. One of those people who can dash off 5 squiggly lines and express complex emotions. I can’t draw for beans, but i was funny with the dialogue. I had them for a while and now they are gone.

7. What is your one most important contribution to this world?
Choosing to not continue the cycle of criticism.

8. What is your one hidden talent that nearly no one knows about?
um…i really don’t have any talents, hidden or otherwise. I can raise one eyebrow?

9. What is your most cherished possession?
I will put aside people, because they aren’t possessions. You know, i don’t really own things that i care much about. It’s all just stuff to me. This attitude shocks the Mister sometimes when i don’t get upset about things being damaged, lost, destroyed. I did just buy this cool leather coat though….

10. What one person influenced your life the most when growing up?
I don’t think i can honestly say any one other than my mother. I can still hear her voice in my head some days. Anyone know an exorcist?

11. What word describes you better than any other?
Empathetic. Cynical. Idealistic. Accepting. Silly. Reserved. Oh, and i don’t follow rules i don’t agree with, like trying to describe myself in one word.

Rock hard, pulsating, heaving, damp, tender, thobbing.

Yesterday i took Em to Borders Book Store to use her “holiday dollars.” She bought 7 romance novels with her money. I was a bit taken aback, although now that i think about it why wouldn’t she? I know she is intensely curious about sex.

But i am still a bit chagrined.

Happy because she isn’t hiding it.
Worried that she will think real love and sex is as depicted in these books. (I mean, it is for me*, but i know others are not as fortunate.)
Happy that she is reading these instead of experimenting personally.
Worried because most of them are utter crap.
Happy because i can borrow them when she’s done. :)
Worried in case i’ll get embarrassed.

16 seems so young, but i am projecting who i was at her age.

My friends and i read Harlequin Romances when we were in high school. But they were pretty tame back then. One of the rules was that the couple had to be married before doing it, no matter how absurd the plot device that getting them married required. Another rule was the heavy use of the fade-to-black technique whenever anything interesting was about to happen.

My first real romance novel was The Wolf and the Dove. It was given to me by the Mister’s mother. I loved it. I was shocked, and titillated by it. I think i read it several times to make sure that i hadn’t missed any vital plot points.

16 year olds get horny, remember? Don’t be such a prude mom! (I'll have to tell you the story about how i bought her a vibrator.)

Sigh, she was so cute and uncomplicated when she was a baby.

*bollocks

Court of Honor

Last weekend my little family went to my nephew’s Eagle Scout Court of Honor.

I am proud of him, as only 4% or less of boy scouts become eagle scouts. I couldn’t help thinking about this little stunt that he and my other nephew (who is also an eagle scout) pulled a while ago during the code of honor part. To my credit i did not snort.

I have a hard time with scouting because of two things. One is the God connection. And the other is their stand on gays. Also, i do have some personal bad memories from when i was a girl scout. But i also recognize that scouting can be a really positive influence for many kids. Well, unless they are gay or atheists.

One really sweet part of the ceremony was when the leader guy asked all the eagle scouts in the room to stand up and tell us their troop number and when they became eagle scouts. That was cute as there were some pretty old guys there who got to stand up.

It ended with 5 extremely self-conscious boys performing the flag ceremony, us all in a big circle holding hands and singing, and cake. I am not so good with holding hands and singing with people i don't know. Sigh of relief when it was over.

Maybe the two of them will grow into the kind of people that they promised that they already were.

In which i cave in to my own sick needs

It snowed here last night. Today the world is beautiful. These prints are from a raccoon that walked across our lawn sometime last night. And bonus of all bonuses, school was cancelled.

I went up to Em's room early in the morning to tell her the news. She was in the shower.

"What!" she yelled at me in a distinctly unpleasant manner.
"School is closed," i replied.
"SCORE!" she yells, wraps her hair in a towel and jumps back into bed.

The roads are okay to drive on, i hear. I can't get up our driveway. It was a quiet day at House Wobegon.

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Someone has designated this as "National De-Lurking Week."

This means that anyone who reads my blog with some regularity is encouraged to leave a comment and say hi this week.

I have been having mixed feelings about this, because really, i don't think anyone would read a blog and never comment. Would they?

But then, curiosity (meow!) has gotten the better of me, so i am posting about it in hopes of encouraging all to say hi.

what i know now that i didn't know then

I know of a woman who just got married for the first time at age 36. Although i believe that she knows a lot about herself, i can’t help but think about all the things that she doesn’t, can’t, know about marriage. Or to be fair, about my marriage. (I cannot assume they are all the same.)

I did not realize how there would be some times when i hated you. Not was angry at you or tired or crabby, but moments when i hated you. You, who you are. The attention that you need that i cannot provide enough of.

I did not know that when you are out of town, all is not really right with the world until you come home.

I did not know that after all the years together we would provide half of each other’s memory function. A lifetime of shared history of memories and movie quotes and jokes. Who else is going to be able to understand the shorthand we have developed over the years?

I did not know that i was capable of behaving SO abjectly badly in front of another human being. And that you would forgive me and still love me.

I did not know what i would be able to forgive you for either. Things i didn’t think i would ever be able to forgive anyone for.

I did not understand that we would be growing up together. I thought i was all grown up when we married. (Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!! *snort*)

I should have been a teacher

When i was in the 5th grade, my best friend Connie lived next door. We really had nothing in common except that we were two lonely eleven year old girls.

My mother was distainful when i asked her why she wasn't friends with Connie's mother. She thought they were "common." I wasn't sure what that meant, but i knew it was bad.

That summer my brother Tim and i were shipped off to spend a month or so at my grandmother's house. Connie and i wrote each other long impassioned letters full of angst and magazine clippings and bird feathers. Each letter was carefully sealed with sealing wax and stickers.

I guess i must have sent her some biological information in one of my letters, because here is an excerpt from one of her letters to me:

Dear Meno,

No, i didn't know what a bonar was. (but now i do) He (Timmy) might start looking at her (you know).

Here's another bit from another letter:

Yesterday we went to a movie Yours, Mine and Ours. We stadyed through it 1 1/2 times. It was about a lady that had 8 kids and a man that had 10 kids they got married, 18 kids. He went to sea, she had a baby, 19 kids. It was all mixed up. I'm going to have a lot of kids.

Connie and i had gone to the special movie that was "just for girls" together in the 5th grade, and we were desperate for information on the male of the species. I think i remember my brother explaining what the word boner meant to me. I must have shared this precious bit of knowledge with her.

What can i say? Sharing information just comes naturally to me.

I eventually lost touch with Connie after we moved to Seattle and she moved at least 10 times after her parents got divorced. I wonder where she is and what she is doing.

Tempest in a bong

My last post reminded me of an incident that happened when i was in my first year of college. I was at Western Washington State College, now Western Washington University. It was 1975 – ‘76

The dorm i lived in was 5 or 6 floors high, with walls of windows on both sides. Each room holds 2 people, many of whom had never met before becoming roommates. That was the case with my roommate and i.

One of the on-campus Christian groups started handing out posters with large crosses so that people could put these in the window of their dorm room facing outward.

Within a few weeks the dorm looked like a monastery from the outside, with all the crosses in the windows.

The some smart ass (it was NOT me), decided to make similar posters, except with marijuana leaves on them.

This (surprise!) offended the Christians, who felt that they were being mocked. As indeed was the case. (Sensitivity is not the strong point of the 17 and 18 year old.)

Then the beer drinkers got in on the act and escalated the situation further. Posters depicting a beer mug began showing up in windows. Some rooms would have a cross in one corner and a marijuana leaf in the opposite corner. The dorms now looked like some kind of crazy patchwork quilt of sin and redemption.

Editorials on both sides appeared in the college newsletter. Feelings were hurt, insults were hurled, people from all sides were in high dudgeon. It was really very funny.

Eventually a new rule was adopted that forbade posters of any size or content from being displayed in dorm windows.

I so wish i had taken a picture at the height of the poster wars.

An old shoe box full of the past

During my first year of college, i had a very old typewriter in my dorm room. My roommate and i swiped a roll of those horrible brown paper towels, the kind with no perforations, from the bathroom and put it into the typewriter. We used this as a message board, a creative writing exercise and for random stoned ramblings. (I went to college in the 70s, man.)

Naturally we thought these words were the epitome of wit and should be preserved for the ages. I still have these "Dead Meno Scrolls" as Em called them, although she used my real name. I pulled these out the other night for the first time in about 20 years, just to amuse Em and to let her kow that once upon a dinosaur i HAD been young.

Both Em and i were in tears of laughter reading them.

Here are some excerpts:

I am so stoned right now.

Want to hear a neat game? It's called "See what good friends we are? We can swear and say the worst things and then just laugh because we were only kidding. It just goes to prove that the best way to keep someone from knowing the truth is by telling it to them under the guise of being too ridiculous to even be possible.

We smoked a joint before lunch and we are really high right now.

The meeting lasted 8 hours and ended when the experts lit up the traditional parting joint. The meeting ended on a happy note. One expert was seen leaving soon after the closing ceremony giggling.

Do not forget to stop at Thriftway and get a bottle of club soda.

Allie has a short attention (This one made Em fall off her chair. Allie was my roommate.)

This is hard to type when i am so high.

I think that i am higher than i think i am.

Do you sense a theme here? I think i majored in dope smoking my first year of college.

I just realized, these writings were my first blog. And now this one here is my second. Do you have an old shoebox somewhere with treasures from the past saved in it? I saved words. What did you save?

Retiring, but not shy.

I am going to pontificate a bit more on retiring, why i did it, and what it was like; what i was afraid of and what happened.

Em was 13 at the time. The Mister and i had enough money so that we could both have retired and lived a good life. I felt like i needed to be around more for Em, and to help make life easier for all of us. Any of you who are part of a couple where both of you work and have kids know how hectic that life can be. (And those of you who are working single parents, yikes! That's hard work.)

But i was afraid to quit my job. I liked working, i liked the people i worked with (for the most part). Working gave me a chance to interact with people on a regular basis. I was prepared to be depressed for a while after i quit until i found a way to organize my life so that i could still get the things i needed from it.

It's been over 2 years now. I never did get depressed. I found a number of things to do that help replace the fun and bustle of the workplace. I volunteer at a few places, i exercise at a gym, where i have gotten to know a few people, i keep up with friends i used to work with by having lunch. It also turns out that i am quite happy to spend time alone, reading books, bustling around the house, reading/writing blog entries. I am surprisingly content. I am not accomplishing anything spectacular, and i am okay with that.

It is different for the Mister. He gets more of his identity from his work. He thinks we need more money than we do. He likes 'stuff' more than i do. He needs approval from others more than i do. In other words, an extrovert. I worry about what will happen to him emotionally if he doesn't work. These are issues that he will have to work out for himself though. He has watched me go through retiring and i think he is simultaneously jealous and relieved that it's not him.

I selfishly wonder if we will drive each other crazy if he is around all the time too. A common worry from what i understand.

Really it's just another step along the journey that is our life and marriage. But i really don't think he's ready. But it's not up to me is it?

Take this job and shove it.

The Mister had a bad moment while we were on vacation about the pressures in his life. His job is very stressful and right now he kind of hates it, and many of the people he works with.

I didn’t retire until i felt that we had enough money for the Mister to retire as well. I didn’t think it was fair to have him feel like he had to shoulder the entire responsibility for money. It would have meant a change in lifestyle if he had retired when i did, but i truly don’t give a hairy rat about most of our “stuff.”

So one of the things we will do in the near future is sit down and make a plan about what we will do if/when he quits. Sell the house, buy a condo, sell one of our fucking cars….whatever. I don’t think he will quit, but i want him to have the feeling that he could. That alone might be freeing enough to relieve some of the pressure.

It could be an interesting year.

This just in from Party Central

Happy New Year!!

The Mister and i partied until 9:30 or 10 pm last night, much to the disgust of Em. Whoo Hoo.

Being the cynic that i am, i don't want to believe in resolutions. But without regard to that, i am going to make a few, because inconsistency is also one of my foremost qualities.

1.) I will continue to not smoke. (Yay me!)
2.) I will continue to exercise.
3.) I will try and remember to treat the people i love as if they only had one month to live.

That's pretty much it and as much as i can handle. Oh, and this one,

4.) I will try and drink less alcohol, mostly because it contributes to my insomnia.

Notice how they were all either something to continue, or something to try. Can't go too wrong with that. I can hear myself whining "but i tried!"

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Last night, or actually this morning at 12:10 am our phone rang. It was the Mister's mother, to whom he hasn't spoken in many months. They are essentially estranged. All i will say in explanation is that the Mister has good reason, although i still find it sad.

I was expecting the worst, as she is 83 and has recently moved to a retirement home. But she just asked how Em is, how i am and how the Mister is. The Mister asked if he could call her back later in the day as he was sleepy and befuddled and it seemed as if nothing was wrong with her.

There are three possibilities:

• She is losing it, and didn't realize the time.
• Something really is wrong, and she wants to punish him for not asking more questions. (A long-standing pattern with her.)
• She had a fight with the Mister's sister and wants to dump on him. (The Mister hasn't spoken with his sister in over 12 years, and believe me, it is with REALLY GOOD reason. She is a vituperative bitch.)

It turned out that she just had some kind of panic attack and felt that she had to call him right then. Odd. But he did talk to her and will probably go visit her within the next few weeks. It still might be reason number 3, as she did make a snarky remark about the sister. Sigh. Patterns continue.

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On a personal note from me, i have had so much fun this year writing and interacting with you all. Thank you for the sense of community you provide to this introvert. Also for the thought-provoking and the laughs. I wish you all the best year ever, really! Make it so.