We IM each other across the house, an actual conversation

em says:
I DON'T EVEN WANT TO GO TO THE STUPID CONCERT. XD
em says:
But I said I would, so.
meno says:
yes, you may go, if you want
meno says:
but you can also say no
em says:
How do I say no? XD I already told her I could go.
meno says:
are mimi's parents going to pick you up? and when
em says:
Mother.
meno says:
yes my own true love?
em says:
That would have been the original question. XD
em says:
mimi: THE CONCERT IS AT EIGHT. SO WE SHOULD LEAVE AROUND 7-7:15 ISH. WHAT TIME SHOULD WE COME PICK YOU UP? <-- here
meno says:
i see that. They can pick you up at whatever time they need to to get there when they want to.
em says:
;_____; I don't wanna go. Save me.
meno says:
you feel bad, your teeth hurt, you have your period, with cramps. Your cat is sick, your dad has been arrested for tax fraud. You have gas.
em says:
*cracks up*
meno says:
i could go on
em says:
O rly.
meno says:
yep. You need to wash your hair, trim your pubes, organize your sock drawer
em says:
Wtf. XDDD
meno says:
you might have fun. I just need to know when you'll be home so i can call the police 5 minutes after you are late.
em says:
You're horrible.
meno says:
's true
meno says:
but you like me
em says:
I do.

Neither a planner nor a slacker be.

This post is brought to you by........Alcohol!

I saw a great bumper sticker the other day: Instant Asshole, Just Add Alcohol.

Ahem..

I am not a planner. For the most part, my life has just happened. Well, except for Em. She was planned. I never wanted to be able feel any resentment towards her because she was an "accident."

The thing i find kind of odd, is that i don't care. I don't want to plan my life. I find planning BORING. (This was a definite deficit when i was a manager of an accounting department.) I contrast this with my SIL who is always making lists of "where i want to be in 5 years." I don't want to think about where i want to be in 5 years. Still alive is good enough for me.

This lack of planning has worked out pretty well for me. I have gotten jobs, like my last one, through happy accidents of fate. I have never taken an accounting class in my life, and i ended up as the manager of an accounting department. Which either proves that i am brilliant, or that accounting isn't that hard. I know which one my money is on.

Right now my life is sort of a blur of wasted time and meaninglessness. And i am happy. I don't need to contribute anything of significance to this world. I will not write a best seller. I will not cure cancer (although i wish i knew how).

I will raise a fine child and putter around in my corner of the world doing silly little things.

Are you a planner? Are you planning to do anything BIG? Are you okay with it if you don't?

This space intentionally left blank.

(I told you that alcohol was involved.)

Can i just beat her a little?

I am exhausted. Em had two full-blown temper tantrums yesterday. I thought this was the exclusive territory of toddlers. The tantrum performance has changed from when she was a toddler, but the basic crying, yelling and make wild leaps of logic have not.

The good news is that i did not beat her. Not even a tiny bit. Although i tell you that one good whack would have felt REALLY GOOD! I remained calm, externally. It was all because i asked her to clean her room this week and the deadline has come and gone, and been extended once, with no results. So, as promised, i turned off her internet access. See what a beast i am?

This morning, as we were heading off to our gig cleaning cat cages, she asked me "What can i do to make it up to you?" She can tell that i am not really feeling all that kindly towards her right now and she is ashamed of herself too. I told her that she can make it up by never having another tantrum. I also told her that i need a time out from her, not that i don't love her, but i don't want to be around her right now.

Usually we meet the Mister for lunch after shoveling cat poop. Not today. The Mister and i took a lovely walk in the spring sunshine instead.

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

I am about to tell the Mister that i have a blog and have had one for almost a year. And that no, he can't read it. I am to go off and meet some other bloggers soon and one thing i won't do is lie about where i am and who i am with. My guess is that he will be very excited and happy for me. He is a great cheerleader and thinks more of me than i think of myself. I appreciate that. But he still can't read it.

In which i am questioned

I asked for 5 questions from Jen and here they are, along with my attempts at answers. That Jen, she is no pushover. Not a "What's your favorite color?" among these.

1. You've decided to run for president. Who would you choose as your VP, and why?

Ignoring the fact that i could never be president because i inhaled, my first thought was Colin Powell but he would have to grow some balls first. But then, because i haven't the chance of a pickpocket in a nudist colony of getting elected, i think i will go with Al Franken, because he would keep us laughing.

2. If you suddenly found yourself homeless and had no money or friends for to find a safe place to sleep, where would you go for the night, and why?

I have this nightmare sometimes..... I have no freaking idea. None whatsoever. I wouldn't go downtown because it's dangerous, even though that's where the shelters are. I would probably hide somewhere in a neighborhood that was familiar, so i would feel safer. From my volunteer work, i know that the YMCA near our house offers temporary housing, except on Wednesdays (is that insane?). So i hope it's not Wednesday.

3. The place you want to see most in the world, but don't think you'll ever manage to travel to?

There is nowhere in this world that i want to go that i don't think i'll ever manage to get to. I have the optimism that if i really want to go anywhere, i will. The Mister and i are looking forward to being able to travel more when Em hies herself off to college.

4. If you had one "do-over", what would it be, if anything?

I wouldn't have gotten married so young. I should have spent some time trying to be on my own after college, instead of marrying right away. I would have known that i can take care of myself instead of having to learn it 12 years later. But learn it i did. I don't regret anything from my marriage now, either Em or The Mister, but i wish i had gone about it differently.

5. If you could break bread with anyone (still alive) in the world today, who would it be? And who else would you invite to the meal?

What? No dead people at dinner? I guess they aren't very good at conversation and they smell bad. (You know, i think i sat next to a dead person last week at one of The Mister's work events.)

But i digress, i would like to have dinner with Marjane Satrapi, the author of the graphic novel Persepolis and other books. She grew up in Tehran and her parents sent her away when she was 14 for her own safety. How interesting would that be?

As for who else i would invite, it would be you. Come on, it'll be fun!

Thinking of you....

Urban-urchin has asked me to tell you about 5 blogs that make me think, other than hers i mean.

I have been chewing on this for a few days and i am finding it stressful. All of the blogs i read make me think in some ways. It turns out that i like blogs that are more subtle with the making me think. That way it doesn't seem like work. I am also uncomfortable singling out only 5 blogs. I currently have almost 80 blogs in my google reader. Some will stay there forever, some i am merely sampling.

So, in no particular order:

patches at clawless~balless: This one is ostensibly written by a cat. A cat with keen powers of observation and a wicked sense of humor. Oh, and the cat is an excellent artist too.

joan of arf :The last time i cried in earnest while reading a post was a few days ago while looking at a picture of a puppy on her blog who had been thrown out of a moving car. Joan does dog rescue, and she's often funny too, just not this time.

maggie at mind moss: Maggie is a friend whom i have never met. She is a poet and a writer and is able to express herself such that i really get her. Kind of an every woman with eloquence.

esereth at to throw away a button: Esereth exposes herself to us through her writing. She asks questions and tells stories that sometimes make me smile and sometimes let me feel the despair she feels. No subject is off limits. I respect that.

biscotti at diary of a panhedonist: I started reading this blog a long time ago while hitting next blog button in the tool bar. I don't even know if i like this woman, and i get the feeling that she wouldn't care. Her writing is brutally, devastatingly, overwhelmingly honest. She's also the only blogger that i truly feel writes solely for herself. I am in awe of her. She wrote a post about a month ago that i am still thinking about concerning finding a home snuggling with the body of a loved one. It's not what you are thinking either.

You know there are many more. I left off the obvious ones of Jen and Chani and amusing and de and josephine and bob, who gently reminds me to not be such a sexist and .... Sorry, i am all linked out.

You see how it is? All the blogs i read provide something to me, as i am not shy about quitting reading if it feels like a chore.

Ms. Iceberg Meets Mr. Titanic

I can see the inevitability of the coming collision, but i am helpless to stop it.

Are you ever with two other people whom you know and love and you can see the conversation heading right off into a fight? And if you say anything, you will become the deer in the headlight instead of the other two?

---------------------------------------------------

Em has just returned from a 5 day tour of east coast colleges. She is tired and quite nervous thinking about college and all that it implies; applications, SAT scores, moving away, roommates. We are at a restaurant awaiting our pizza, the night before she gets her braces (another worry).

The Mister is all excited for her and wants to talk about colleges. He has missed her. I also think that he wishes he had had all the support and encouragement that Em is getting, and wants to make sure that she really feels his support.

She chatters about colleges for a little bit and then heaves a weary sigh and says she is tired of talking about it. She rests her head on my shoulder in the restaurant.

The Mister lets it go for a minute, and then says, "You know, you really should think about applying to ABC and XYZ colleges too."

Em: Ummm.

Meno, (thinking "DANGER WILL ROBINSON, DANGER!") Oh look, i think that's our pizza.

The Mister: I mean, you'll never know unless you try. And depending on your SAT scores...yadda, yadda...

Meno: (OH SHIT! I need some semifore flags to indicate that the danger alert level is RED.)

Em, (exploding) LEAVE ME ALONE! I don't want to TALK ABOUT COLLEGE RIGHT NOW.

The Mister: ???? (angry and puzzled.)

Meno: Sigh.

----------------------------------------------

This is just an example. And i know that the Mister can see Em and i doing this same thing at times. It's much easier to see from the outside.

A story with a happy ending

When i was 11, my best friend Connie and i found a baby robin on the ground at the bottom of our Tulip Poplar tree. Not too baby, but she could not fly. (I have no idea if the robin was a girl, but for the sake of simplicity i will call her a girl.)

I carried her inside the house and cradled her in my hands while Connie prepared a shoe box nest for her. Shredded kleenex and a few leaves to make her feel at home.

I named her Terry Lynn, as that was my idolized oldest brother's girlfriend's name. I thought it was the most beautiful name in the world and i declared my intention to name my first baby girl Terry Lynn.

Terry Lynn, Terry Lynn. See how it rolls off the tongue?

We showed Terry Lynn to my mother and asked her what we should feed her. "It will not live," she declared. Then looking at our hopeful little faces she relented, "Try little bits of cat food." Connie's father gave us an eye dropper from their hamster's equipment for water.

Terry Lynn spent that night in my room, peeping and pooping and gobbling cat food. Connie and i carried her around the neighborhood in the morning to show all the other kids.

We kept her for about two weeks. She began to flutter around my room a bit. Connie and i presented her with piles of worm stocked dirt to dig through so she could learn how to take care of her own food supply. We dug the worms out of the manure pile at the stable where Connie's sister had a horse. (Now that's love.) She would cock her head to one side and listen and then dive into the dirt and pull out a fat wiggler. Yummy!

Terry Lynn got stronger with flying so a few days later we took her outside. At first she hopped around on the ground. (A bad idea for a bird.) But then she heard some robins in the trees and off she flew. Connie and i cried and watched her until we couldn't tell which robin was her anymore.

Freedom.

Because Esereth asks.....

The always clever Esereth made up her own meme and then tagged me with it.

The last conversation I had with my mother- She called me last week to ask where i stay when i visit Cannon Beach. They won't be able to stay there though as it is up a steep hill and there are many steps down to the beach and my mother has had 4 knee replacement operations. (No, my mother isn't a dog, but she can be a bitch.)

The last conversation I had with my father- Sadly, i don't remember. He isn't really allowed to answer the phone and when we are all together no one can get many words past my mother, who answers for him. He has trouble hearing so she just jumps in and makes him look like he's feeble-minded.

Do you regret the person or manner in which you lost your virginity?- Yes. Sigh. I should say more i suppose. It wasn't my idea and there was hitting.

The thing your parents never found out about.- Where do i begin? I learned early not to tell them anything that i didn't have to. So here is a partial list; dope smoking, drinking, leaving the house late at night and wandering the streets, happy events, sad events, the three watches of my mother's that i threw in the lake in fits of pique.

How much do you spend a month on groceries.- We eat at restaurants a lot. I don't really know. I never feel bad about buying good quality food though, because it would sure cost much more at a restaurant.

The last lie you told.- I ran into someone that i had hoped not to ever see again two nights ago. She wanted to chat. I said i had to run to catch a bus. I did have to catch a bus, but i had a few minutes. Her lie was "I'll call you."

How often are your comments on other blogs made out of obligation?- Rarely or never. I almost always have something to say, and if i don't, then i don't. I like to comment on my regular reads. And, to paraphrase Esereth, if it's alway a chore then it's time to stop reading. I'll admit i have a hard time commenting on poetry. Not because i don't like it, but because i never know what to say.

Brain breeze

My friend Eileen and i go for walk-and-talks every week, if we are both available. I get a lot out of both the walking and the talking.


Today we were talking about confronting parents about things that happened in childhood, and whether or not it is ever effective. Eileen was telling me about her mother’s religious zeal and how that is the main focus in her mom’s life, so that confronting her mother would never yield any results because her mother cannot even hear any diverging opinion.

I made a conscious effort to stop my own brain from planning what i was going to say next and truly listen. Eileen made a wistful statement about how she wished that her mother’s main focus had been more on her children.

Right then, like a wind rushing through me, i mean i swear i heard that wind, i had a moment of total understanding of how she might feel.

I told Eileen about that wind. She looked at me and said, “Thank you. It really helps that someone understands how i feel.” It was a sweet moment.

I like to say that although i am not religious, i can be spiritual. But i've never given much though to HOW i am spiritual. It's just an easy thing for me to say that sounds good.

I realize that one way in which i am spiritual is that i attempt to truly find a way to understand what it's like to be in someone else's life. Today i was successful.

If my childhood plans had worked out:

I would be kneeling over the contents of a shark's stomach on the deck of the Calypso alongside of Jacques Cousteau and his son Philippe, wearing a pair of frayed cut-off jeans and a wet suit top. The wet suit top is unzipped so that my ample cleavage is hinted at in a tasteful manner. (That part really is a fantasy.) The shark is the result of my last dive into the uncharted crystal blue waters off the coast of ........somewhere exotic.

A floppy straw hat perches on my head to protect me from the sun, but nonetheless i am deeply tanned and freckled. My hair is streaked with natural blonde highlights. I pay no mind to my stunning good looks.

The excitement is palpable. No one has ever been able to confirm that sharks eat.....whatever is in the shark's stomach; kittens, kelp, Brillo pads, Nemo. Who knows, but we are stunned by this important scientific discovery.

That night we sit in the ship's galley, lit by the light of the swaying lanterns and plan the next day's dive.

During the season when the boat is in dry dock, i live in a beautiful old house with an incredibly handsome man who sees me for the wonder that i am. The house is filled with books and plants. My students come and visit me at home where we stay up late arguing over the latest theory of marine life while dining on some of that marine life. The handsome man cooks.

At night the house elves come to clean the house and hand wash all my casual yet expensive clothes.

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

Thank you amusing, for this request. I had great fun.

A little silly

I just enrolled Em in a driver's ed class for this summer. Hold me.


I have this slightly odd obsession with weight loss stories. I read all the stories in the product ads. I look at the before and after pictures. I buy books written by people who have lost lots of weight. I read articles about gastic bypass operations. It's kind of odd as i have never been overweight. I mean i have those three six pounds i've needed to lose since 1985, but nothing more serious than that.

This weekend in Parade magazine, that gossip and inspirational rag lightly disguised as news and information, i was reading something about some football players who had all done some weight loss thing together. There were before and after pictures with little quotes from each player. This one was the best:

"My wife says that my gut is less sickening now that i've lost 20 pounds."

Man, those are some encouraging words. I know i'm inspired. Probably the most honest quote of the whole bunch. The rest were all the usual "I feel better." "I look better." etc.

Music is the Universal Language

Ok, i am done wallowing in the past. It's safe to go back into the water.

I was tagged by QT to do a list of seven songs that i have been listening to lately. I listen to music mainly in my car. I do not have an ipod. I am a Luddite.

1) I Don't Give Up - Patty Griffin from Running with Children
2) The Dreaming Dead- Jesse Sykes from Oh My Girl
3) Pony - Kasey Chambers from Wayward Angel
4) Bring Him Home - the 10th anniversary concert soundtrack of Les Miserables
5) God Says Nothing Back - The Wallflowers from Rebel, Sweetheart
6) On the Radio - Regina Spektor from Begin To Hope
7) Shelter - Ray LaMontagne from Trouble
8) Romeo - Patty Scialfa from 23rd Street Lullaby

I still can't count. :)

As i look at this list, i realize that there are two artists on there that were recommended to me by one of you. People i had never heard of before. How cool is that?

Em is flying off tomorrow morning at the crack of dawn for a five day whirlwind tour of east coast colleges. I am trying not to stress out as it is almost 6 pm and she has NO CLEAN CLOTHES. I am actively reminding myself that this is NOT my problem. She is old enough to deal with this herself and i have already reminded her once.

I am making pizza tonight for dinner. Her favorite meal. The kitchen, and i, are covered with flour.

Witty, yet heartfelt title.

Thank you all for your kind, understanding and insightful words. It means a lot to me to hear what you have to say, even if it's just "I'm sorry."

All right, let me see if i can get this correct, and then we must never speak of it again. :)

I figured out the trigger for my "kamikaze attacks from the past." (Thanks for that phrase Caro, it's perfect.) The Mister has travelled 3 times in the past month. And, of course, that's where this all began, on a business trip.

I am embarrassed as i write this, because how typical, how tawdry. But why am I embarrassed? Because in this culture, i know there are people who think that it must be a reflection on me.

I want to be careful here, because there are thousands of ways to "get it wrong" when describing someone else's issues.

The Mister wants to be attractive to and liked by everyone. A legacy from his father, i believe. Some people, understandably, mistake this for something else, including him. So, the infidelity was just the recognition of this problem, all the way around. The solving of it has taken longer. With slip-ups. Details not to be included as they aren't important. Not major slip-ups, but enough to rip the scab off of my still tender wound.

The Mister has spent the past 13 years working on this issue, trying to recognize and correct the behavior.

I frequently quote Chani on this one. Love is a behavior, not an emotion.

And to quote Patty Griffin from her latest album, "I don't give up. I don't ever give up."

Bitten

Does the past ever come and bite you on the butt?

I have been stewing, chewing, re-living old hurts and lies that were told more than 13 years ago. I was in the shower this morning and i found myself feeling angry. I have to shake myself to STOP THAT. Let it go.

It's been happening with more frequency the past week or so. I need to think about whether or not this time of year, or something else, is the trigger.

It is not healthy for me to be doing this. I think it damages the progress we've worked so hard to achieve. Why can't i let go? Is my anger so precious to me?

My thoughts drift off into some remembered humiliation, which is how being lied to makes me feel, humiliated, and my heart rate goes up and i think "i HATE you." Am i so unforgiving that i can't see the sacrifices and the heart ache that he has lived through to try and become a better person and to make us a better family? Is it fair that he should have to wonder why i am glaring at him?

I need the flashy thingie from Men In Black that erases memory. In lieu of that, i really wish i knew how to let go of the past. I mean, i'm still pissed at my mother, but she's never made any attempt to apologize or make amends.

Sorry for the arcane nature of this post. I don't want to go into it all for my own sake. Suffice it to say that something completely typical happened to me. And i was lied to.

The atypical part is that he apologized, many times, and has spent years working to try and understand why he did what he did.

The nature of trust is that you believe what someone tells you. I wonder if it ever grows back.

Drivel, because that's where my head is.

I took my baby girl to the orthodontist this morning for the first of many steps in the installation and maintenance of braces. Due to my teeth genetics, she is later than most people in getting her adult teeth. As a consequence, all of her peers have already finished with the having of braces.

This is a two year process so she will be heading off to college with braces. Poor baby. She has a great attitude about it all, but it's still not much fun. Of course, it should make for fairly effective boy repellant, so there are benefits.

The money that we will be paying for this tooth torture could purchase a small car. Our health insurance covers less than 1/5 of the cost. I am glad we can afford this, but braces should be a right for all children, not just those with money.

I went for a walk while Em was "in the chair." Man, we litter alot. It's so depressing. Next time i will go with a large plastic bag and pick up all the recyclables. But i did find another Bott's Dot. If anyone wants it, let me know. I'll send it to you.

The insincere niceness in doctor's/dentist's offices always sets my teeth on edge. Just give me a People magazine and leave me alone, i don't want to chat with the staff. Especially at 8 in the morning. Bah!

Hidden agenda

I have a brother, Tim. His time is more valuable than yours.

I now know not to ever go anywhere with him. "Oh, i just need to make a quick stop at one of my buildings (he's a real estate guy) and move 6 dishwashers up from the basement. It won't take more than a minute." Yeah, right. Some variation of this happened more than 50 percent of the time whenever i got into a car with him.

Back when he drove and i didn't, i had no choice. Also, i wanted him to like me. I looked up to him, literally and figuratively. (Get this, i am the shortest one among my siblings. My big brother really is bigger than your big brother!) But this always annoyed me. Of course, i was never strong enough to say anything, back then. Now i rarely see him.

Tim invited the Mister out to help him look for a new car recently. This is the Mister's idea of a good time. If i ever want to perk up his weekend, i'll suggest going to look at cars. As it turned out, the car shopping trip involved a stop at one of Tim's business partner's offices so they could try and get the Mister to invest in something or other.

Why not just be honest? "I'd like to invite your checkbook, oh, and you too, out for lunch."

Some things don't change. Yes this is the brother into whose car i put a dead fish.

tattoo me

Someone recently mentioned that she has an appointment with a tattoo artist. So i thought i would post a picture of my tattoo. Also in honor of the day after St Patrick's Day. (I am a little slow.) I got this when i was 44. It's on my belly, a few inches below and to the right of my belly button, and it's about 6 cm (2.5 inches) high.

It's a slight modification of a Celtic design that i have admired for years. It's all black. My skin is not that color by the way, this picture is in black and white.

I don't believe i'll ever get another tattoo, but i really like this one and am very happy with it. Few people even know it's there. Except for you all.

Do you have any tattoos and where and what are they? Pictures are appreciated.

A view from the outside

I have a woman who comes over and cleans my house for me every so often. (And worth every damn penny too.) I know her because she used to work at the place where i used to work, along with 1,800 other people.

Last week we were talking and she said, "You know, you're really nice. I used to be afraid of you at work."

"Really?" i replied, slightly taken aback, "Why is that?"

"Oh you always walked around so fast and you're so tall and smart and you were a manager and all."

"Huh. Well, i am tall and i do walk fast. And that's scary?"

"It is to me."



Huh. I guess i put on a good show.

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.)

++++++++++++++++++++++++++

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?