Hijacked by your agenda

There is this woman i know, someone i thought might become a friend.

I have made plans with her a few times to do something, which she agreed to enthusiastically at the time.

And each time, her agenda begins to creep in, altering the plans so she can fit in other events.

"Oh, i made an appointment to take the car in on Tuesday morning, so can we start hiking later in the day?"

"Of course," i say.

Then a few days later,

"Is it okay if we just go for a short walk? One of my neighbors is having a party at her house and i should go."

And so on. If this had happened only to one of our plans, no big deal, but that it happens every time annoys me.

So i'm done making plans and adjusting them to suit her. Too much work. I'll just stick to the one set time we meet with a group and leave it at that.

The lesson is, don't do this. If you say you're going to be there, be there. If you say you're going to do it, do it. Don't jerk people around.

The beginning of a beautful relationship

It's been awhile huh? How is everyone?

Today i'm going to tell you a story.

Scene: My parent's living room, in the winter of 1981.

Cast: My parents, The Mister's parents, The Mister and me.

Background information: The Mister and i had been living in the deepest of sin for about two years when we decided we would get married. Since we were both graduating from college and The Mister had accepted a job in San Jose, it was either marry, or break up. I say that because my mother had drilled it into my head that i should never "place myself in a position of dependence on a man without being married." There's all kinds of wrong with that statement, but i was much younger then and believed it.

After announcing that we were to be joined in wedded bliss, my mother waited in vain for an invitation from The Mister's parents for an occasion to meet. (According to my mother, who knows these sorts of rules, it's the job of the groom's parents to initiate the first meeting.)

Such invitation was not forthcoming, so my mother decided to (gasp) ignore convention and invite The Mister's parents over for dinner.

Character development: The Mister's dad was a health food nut back before it was popular. He used to make these loaves of bread that we really, really good......for you. They could also substitute for bricks in a pinch. So dinner at their house was accompanied by a discussion of why we were eating skinless chicken and organic kale salad dressed with apple cider vinegar. After dinner he would prepare what i called The Bowel Bomb, a concoction of plain homemade yogurt, wheat bran and lecithin. (Have you ever seen lecithin? It's the consistency of honey, but tastes like motor oil.)

My family is all very tall, and The Mister's family are all very short. The Mister comments that hanging out with my family is The Land of the Giants. I believe i may have mentioned hobbits when visiting with his parents.

During the day that preceded this dinner, The Mister and i had taken our beloved cat Al to the vets as he was very ill. We found out about 30 minutes before dinner that Al had kitty leukemia and would not live very long.

Action: The Mister and i arrived at my parent's house with red eyes, still sniffling over poor Al. (We love our kitties!)

The Mister's parents were late, beyond fashionably.

My mother had prepared her special guest dinner of standing rib roast, mashed potatoes with gravy, salad with blue cheese, french bread with butter, and cheesecake for dessert. Oh, and coffee. I thought The Mister's dad was going to have a coronary right there.

So he picked over his salad, ignoring the rest of the meal. The rest of us, including The Mister's mother, drank steadily.

So picture this, The future Mister and i are huddled miserably in a corner, lightly weeping, The Mister's dad is looking like he smells something bad, my parent's are trying to make polite conversation, and The Mister's mother is getting blasted.

Good times. The evening ended rather early.

Epilogue: My mother waited, again in vain, for a thank you note. She thought that as a military wife The Mister's mother should know that this is required. A few years later, The Mister's mother told me that she had written one, but it had never been mailed as it had gotten lost in her car.

Yeah, i didn't believe her either.

College Bound

The Mister and i are getting up at o'fuck thirty tomorrow morning and flying to Ohio to attend something known as "Family Weekend" at Em's college.

After having looked over the agenda i have broken the events down into three categories:

1.) Sessions telling parents how to butt the hell out while your child attends college and grows up.
2.) Sessions for soliciting money from parents, complete with opportunities to join committees. Wheeee. I LOVE committees!!!
3.) General foolishness; e.g. hot dog eating contests, choir concerts, campus tours, plays and arts-n-crafts exhibitions (I swear if i am asked to weave a lanyard out of cicada skins, i will explode!)

We received a "Welcome to the *insert name of institute of higher learning here* family". Excuse me? Did i go off to college with my kid? Yes, i realize it's a marketing ploy to make me feel all warm and fuzzy so that i will make free with my money. HA!

What we will probably do is skip all that, take Em away with us and spend the weekend eating good food and watching stupid movies. YEAH!

I took the kitties off to kitty jail this afternoon. They spent the entire drive loudly discussing their feelings and criticising my driving. I found this annoying because my driving really isn't that bad, plus i don't know how they could even tell from inside their carriers.

On the job training

I stopped at a Tully's store this morning (a Starbucks clone for those of you wondering what a Tully's is) to get some tea and a bagel with cream cheese. I asked the young girl working there to please cut my bagel in half.

She looked a bit confused, but said "sure" because the customer is always right.

Here is what i got:

I looked down at my bagel and then looked back into the soft bovine-like eyes of my bagel cutter. "How long have you worked here?" i queried.

"Three days!"

This is why i carry my camera around with me.

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

Scenes from a kayak:

The Mister and i took advantage of a calm afternoon yesterday to take the kayaks out for a long ride. My big feet pedaling away. Look how glassy the water is.

We stayed out later than we should. It was nearly dark when we returned home.

This pier needs some repair work:

NaDruPoNi

Sometimes we do things that don't make us happy. Things we do that make other people happy. Things we do that only make them happy, but do not make us happy. Things that stress us out and make us feel gross. Things that make us feel like we don't matter. Things that follow the patterns that were set out decades ago. Things we can do nothing to change. But things we should probably do because we are a bigger person than the people that do not make us happy. At least we can feel like we are bigger people, but are we?

Enough with the generalities. I did a good thing tonight. But it did not make me feel good. It made other people feel good, but not me.

Patterns. Old patterns. Patterns that will never change, until the people with the patterns are dead.

Do you get it? Do you do these things? If you do, good for you. Good for me. Because tonight, someone is happy, but that someone is not me.

I SEE WHAT YOU DID THAR!

A rodent has been exploring my virtual underwear drawer. (Thank you to Ms. Chica for the description.) I think it's time to tip the contents of the drawer onto the floor and expose the mouse.

Someone who thinks i don't know she is doing it, even though she promised she wouldn't, is reading my blog.

Say hi to my daughter y'all.

At first she didn't know. Then she knew, but i didn't know she knew. Then i knew she knew, but she didn't know that i knew that she knew. Now she knows. I know she knows, and with this, she knows that i know that she knows. Got that?

I discovered this mouse in my underwear drawer a while ago. I've been pondering what to do and how i feel about it for a while too. I still don't know how i feel about it. It's a little odd, but i can think of no actual harm done to me. Bemused might be the best description. Such are the risks of public blogging.

With growing up, comes new levels of relationships. Wonder if she'll be brave enough to say hi back??

Love you Fishie, you little stinker. See you in about a week. And if there's anything you've read here that you don't like, too bad. <3

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

Confidential to person standing next to me on the bus; Even though you can't hear it over your ipod, the rest of us can still hear you fart.

I need glasses

At her request, i went over to my mother's house a few days ago in order to help her throw things away. My parents are preparing to move into smaller accomodations and thus need to cram 7 rooms of shit into a 3 room bag.

It was kind of fun, in an 'i need earplugs' sort of a way. (My mother's middle name is Prolix.) I pulled stuff off her kitchen shelves, some of which she hadn't been able to reach for years, put it on the counter and stepped back. She looked at the 14 adorable little pitchers she has collected over the years and declared she needed them all.

But i am made of stronger stuff than that. I told her to "pick three of them. I'm putting the rest into the Goodwill box." And she did, after pleading with me for a few minutes.

Then it was on to the dishes. I am not making this up, i counted 57 drinking glasses, from 7 different sets. (This does not include the wine glasses, flutes, cordial glasses, shot glasses, martini glasses, DOF glasses, margarita glasses or brandy snifters. My parents like to drink.) Now she has 16 drinking glasses from two sets.

I have to admit, i get a thrill from ordering her around.

It's because my mother is now afraid of me, when for years she had no problem saying shitty things or exerting her power over my seven/nine/thirteen year old self.

My only consolation for admitting to that little thrill is i am much nicer than she was when she held the power.

Blundering

When i am out hiking, sometimes the correct way forward is not obvious. If i stare fixedly at the ground, attempting to will the trail into appearing before me, i become even more unsure as i move along.

I have to remind myself to stop, raise my head and let my eyes relax into longer range focus, looking for the pattern in the terrain. Then the path appears before me, because i stopped looking so hard.

It's akin to when i spent a summer as a camp counselor. I came to rely less and less on flashlights to make my way in the dark. I would let my body relax into a state where i was able to stop using only my eyes, and trust the input from my feet and ears.

On really dark nights, i would walk looking straight up through the trees to seek out the slightly less inky darkness indicating the location of the path. This and the feel of the ground under my feet would guide me along. At camp this was called "blundering", a word which belies the grace i achieved when i could successfully let go of the desire for visual input.

"So does the child also know only what its five senses can tell it. But other senses there are, and these develop as the being grows, and when they are fully developed we trust them as once we trusted only our senses." - Pearl S. Buck A Pavilion of Women.

BONUS:

Two random pictures from one of last week's hikes.

Passive-Aggressive or Projecting?

The Mister and i were paying a neighborly visit to the couple next door, chatting about this 'n that, shootin' the shit, flappin' the lips.

This couple is about 20 years older than The Mister and me and Mr. Neighbor has lived in this neighborhood on and off for 60 years. So they have very definite ideas about what is and is not okay around here.

They were showing us the new patio they just had built. It's along the side of their house that faces ours.

There is a large cedar tree/bush that according to Mrs. Neighbor, their patio designer dude wanted them to remove. "You're really glad that i didn't let them remove it though," declared Mrs. Neighbor.

"Oh, it wouldn't have bothered me if you took the tree out. You should do what you want," replied i.

"OH NO," she insisted loudly, "YOU ARE REALLY GLAD THAT WE LEFT IT THERE. YOU REALLY WOULDN'T WANT THAT TREE GONE." Then she gave a long list of reasons why i was glad. Pretty selfless of her to sacrifice like that for our happiness.

Well, okay then, i guess i'm glad. I mean, she would know, right?

(I admit that we made gentle fun of her later.)

Last Sunday morning i tried this tactic on The Mister. "You would really like it if i had a nice cup of tea and the newspaper, " i said.

"Nice try," he replied.

Rats!

Bad Advice

Sometimes people send me email asking questions.

Someone sent me email. A 'new' blogger asking for advice. Me, an old hand at this after a little more than two years. Ha! But it puffs up my vanity to have someone ask my opinion, so...

Advice?? Oh HELL YES! And worth exactly what you're paying for it.

Here it is:

You will never become a famous blogger. You must blog/write for yourself. You, like i, are very late to this party. Besides, are you really willing to do the whoring marketing required to become famous?

If you start blogging for money, i will drop you like a hot potato. I have no problem with ads, i can ignore those (except pop ups, UGH!), but the pay for post thing is offensive. If i wanted to read a post about Oil of E-coli regenerative cream (or whatever) i would google it.

Never, never, never begin a post by apologizing for not posting.

Never, never, never begin a post by saying that you have nothing to say. If you have nothing to say, then don't say anything. (For more information on these last two points, click on the BWO button on my side bar.)

Blogging will not save you. It will make you feel good when your blogging friends affirm you, but don't neglect your real life friends.

You will have so much fun with the bloggers you meet for real. It's like you can pre-select friends who already know who you are. But they are not here. they will not save you. You will have to save yourself. I'm sorry to tell you this. But 'tis true. They can laugh and cry with you though, which is of immeasurable value.

Despite the temptation, do not tell anyone who knows you in real life about your blog. Start anonymously. You can tell people later, but it's really hard to untell them. If your mom is reading, you will censor yourself. Do you really want to do that?

Oh, and please, as a special favor to me, don't put word verification on your comments. It makes it much less likely that i will leave a comment, and junk comments are easy to delete. I think i've gotten maybe 6 of them since i started. If you start getting a lot of them, put WV on, but only for a while, and apologize for it.

Oh, and don't threaten to quit, either do it, or don't. You can always start back up later. If you do quit, at least say goodbye.

Who's got something else to add?

A Theory

gratuitous photo of Brown Cat, doing the dishes.

I have developed some weird theories in my life. One of them is that we only have a certain amount of time we can spend with any person before we start to dislike them.

(God, my love of mankind just gushes off the page doesn't it?)

The amount of time varies by person. With some people, the maximum time is about 30 seconds (i'm looking at YOU person teasing the dog tied up in front of the grocery store), and with other people it can be years. But eventually, everyone starts to bug you.

Now (in my theory) if it's someone you like, and you feel the end of that time drawing near, you can take steps to increase the remaining time by taking a break for a while. In this way, you can string the time along for years. I believe this is called "having friends" or maybe "being married."

You can tell when the end of your time is approaching when you find yourself having to bite your tongue in order to avoid snapping at them. Or when you SWEAR, that if they don't stop making that slurping noise whilst eating you WILL commit murder. Of course, if you let it go too long, you will fail to bite your tongue and something very nasty may well spill out. This is called "having a family."

So you see, both of these are true:

Familiarity Breeds Contempt

Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

My little theory has many gaps and 'yes buts' in it, but it's surprising to me how many times over the years i have thought about it.

A $16 pair of purple socks.

Tell me you can stand one more post in which i go hiking. If not, well, best away with you then. I promise it will be the last one for.....at least a week.



First off, i had these fancy new socks to test. They're purple! They have toes! The toe part is supposed to reduce friction and thus prevent toe blisters. I was skeptical, but they're PURPLE! What could i do? They make me smile just looking at them.

Of necessity the are the innermost sock. :)

So i set off in my purple socks hiking to Cascade Pass.

Look at those fall colors on the hillside. Yummy. The blueberries and huckleberries were yummy too.

Can you find the ptarmigan in this picture. There were four of them. (Only one in this picture though, so you needn't look for them all.) A mom and three teenagers. I practically ran over them on the path and then mom, making the cutest cooing noises, herded them away.

As one of my hiking partners was noshing on a pear and leaving seeds behind, someone may have made reference to a ptarmigan in a pear tree, but i can assure you, it was not me. Nope.



This beautifully made rock stairway led up to......

The toilet! Kind of disappointing as it looks like it should lead a secret shire.

The view at lunch.

The report on the purple toes socks is that they rocked! I took my usual socks with me in case they sucked, but they actually performed as well as the marketing poo-rah claimed. When does that ever happen?

Inconsequential

I have to hurry and get these pictures up before Neen does. (Only two pictures Neen, the rest are yours. :) )

We went on a wonderful hike on a beautiful day on Monday.

This critter came to very politely ask for a taste of our lunch. How could we say no? Nina had guessed that it's a Lesser Scaup and after looking it up, SHE IS RIGHT! This is a Lesser Scaup, non-breeding male. Poor guy has no girlfriend.

Look at that beautiful yellow eye and that crystal clear water. We found out using empirical methods that the water is Extremely Cold.

And these butterflies were getting frisky amongst the grass.


I have been having so much fun lately. I have made a concerted effort to keep myself busier than usual in these first few weeks of non-parenthood. Hiking, lunches, squash, quilting..... it's all good.

I am a lucky person to be able to pursue all these things without the ditraction of work, i realize that. It also helps that the weather here is just spectacular. If it were the middle of one of our dark, dreary, rainy, endless winters, i think i would be spending most of my time in bed with the covers pulled over my head.

Carry on.

Go to College, learn new vocabulary.

I learned a new word yesterday.

I was IMing with Em (say that 5 times fast) and she said, "Today i got sexiled."

Yep, it's exactly what it sounds like. Use Google if you're unclear.

She continued, "I wandered like a little lost lamb, from Erin's room to Aline's room to Megan's room, waiting for the call that would let me know it was safe to go back into my room." (Em can be very dramatic. :) )

I was torn between annoyance that my sweet daughter had to vacate her dorm room so her roommate could lose her virginity, and amusement at the perfection of the word 'sexile.'

Things to think about:

1) This may only be a problem in my own repressed mind. Em seems okay with it, although she admitted it was 'awkward.'
2) If it is a problem, it is not my problem, i cannot solve it. I can only listen.
3) Last night i dreamed i got locked out of my house. Coincidence? I think not!
4) Dang! My girl really is getting an education.
5) She seemed very glad to hear from me today.

A Prehensile Tale

While cleaning the cage of Em's mice, who for ease of reference will henceforth be known as Those Damn Mice, i noticed how cute they are,

and that their little tails curl around my fingers when i hold them. It's as if Those Damn Mice are trying to hang on, like little monkeys.

There are two of Those Damn Mice. This is the black one. She's fat. The other of Those Damn Mice is white. They are both girls. They have names, which i cannot at present recall.

It's going to be harder to feed Those Damn Mice to the cats now that i've squealed over how cute they are.

FUN! in the Airport!

The Scene: A Women's Restroom

The Cast: Meno and a Long Line of women, all hopping from foot to foot, waiting their turn in a 4 stall bathroom.

Action: When it's my turn, the handicapped stall opens up and in i go. I felt a momentary thrill, the likes of which i seldom get when travelling because i prefer the handicapped stall because there is a little more room.

I accomplish my goal (HEY! Am i the only one who feels as if those self-flushing toilets are a violation of my free will?) and exit the stall.

Sitting right outside my stall is a woman in a wheelchair, who was not in line and was not there before.

She YELLED at me, "That stall is for handicapped people only and you should not be using it. It's hard enough being in a wheelchair without having people infringe on our accommodations." (That is a direct quote, she used the words 'infringe' and 'accommodations.')

I just looked at her, as i had maybe made her wait for, oh, ten seconds. Plus it's unseemly to argue with a woman in a wheelchair.

She continued to yell at me as i washed my hands and left. I believe the word BITCH was hurled my way.

Was i wrong? I don't really think so, but maybe those stalls ARE sacred. It just seems silly to let one stall sit empty when there is a line.

In praise of chemistry

Gonna write a little while the Mister is in the shower.

We are staying in a hotel near Portland, OR, attending the wedding of a friend of mine. Weddings are weird affairs. The best line from the wedding officiator dude was:


When you are wrong, admit it.
When you are right, shut up.

Words to live by.

A little too much wine and Makers Mark was consumed by me. I must admit that i have felt better of a morning. But it was fun.

Thank chemist for Ibuprofen.

I am trying very hard to relinquish the illusion of control i had when Em lived at home. I fully realize it was an illusion, but it worked for me. Last night she was able to figure out a way to get to the Obama rally in Dublin, OH. I didn't ask any questions, such as 'How are you getting there?', 'Who are you going with?' and 'When will you get back?'.

Not my business any longer. Not to say that i didn't wonder.

What i did say was, "How cool! Have fun."

No title comes to mind

Talked to Em last night. Her dad called her and then handed the phone over to me. She was glad to hear from us as she is homesick and lonesome. Her new roommate has already found a potential boyfriend. Em told me a few months ago that roommate really REALLY wanted a boyfriend, so while this was quick, it's not surprising.

One of the things Em said was "I don't really mind if they have sex in our room, but i don't want to get locked out for hours."

This after two nights away from home. Things are different at college.

Guess i should have bought a keg o' condoms while i was at the *mart store.

On the home front, we had brown rice and vegetables for dinner last night, both things Em dislikes. Tonight it will be salad, another dislike of hers. Tomorrow i am going to make beet and carrot pancakes, from a recipe that was brought to my attention by Nina.

I love veggies and am happy to be able to wallow in them. (The Mister doen't like veggies all that much, but he won't admit it so i am going full steam ahead with them.)

Em left behind two pet mice that i now have to take care of. "Here kitty kitty kitty...."

Before it hits

So here i am in Ohio, dropping my child off at college like a batch of just baked cookies, still warm and gooey from the oven, but perfectly done all the same, just needing that crisp hardening of time and cooler air.

My god, what a scene. There are 400+ kids and their parents, all bumbling our way around the campus and the procedures. It's a zoo. The upperclasspeeps arrive in a few more days, after the freshpeople have done such important tasks as learning the traditional "Greeting of the Upperclasspeople" song, so they can greet the upperclasspeople in the traditional way.

Today i have been to KMart, Lowes and Walmart (twice) in order to obtain things such as light bulbs and power cords and bathrobes and AAA batteries and pillows (because the Fed Ex people absolutely, positively did NOT get it here on time.)

Because of Walmart, i feel VERY, VERY good about my physical appearance right now. I guess i don't see middle America as much as i should, because there are some UGLY people out there.

(I am so sorry for my callous indifference. Those of you in middle America feel free to hate my snotty guts.)

The fun part is that i have been able to play mom for several freshpeople and get things they needed. Em's roommate's dad basically slowed down to 30, shoved roommate out of the car and sped away.

Tomorrow i will drop off the last few essential Walmart purchased items and then get on a plane and leave my genetics behind to fend for itself.

Surprisingly, i am just fine. The absurdity of this experience has overwhelmed my sadness.

Maybe later....

visit

stream of consciousness
(james joyce would be snorting milk out his nose)

my dad has turned into one of those old men who has his pants belted just under his nipples
he is skinny, even skinnier than i am, even though he used to be taller and is no longer
he wore a long sleeved shirt, even though it was 80 degrees (Fahrenheit)
his hands are covered with purple welts from the coumadin

i can't see his arms, which is the purpose of the long sleeved shirt
he no longer has the grace of movement he possessed as a younger man
he has a scratch across his nose from banging into something with his glasses on
my mother mutters things quietly, even though she knows he is almost deaf

my daughter is one hell of a good sport and sticks around the table even though we are boring as hell
i have told her beforehand that she needs to be here as they are here to say goodbye to her
they drink like fish
i feel like drinking like a fish
they leave early because of a show they need to watch on PBS

i watch them drive up the driveway and wonder how long they will still be able to drive here
that they can drive here makes it easier for me

i wonder how long it will be easy
it's easier for me if it's easy
i know it will be hard when it's not easy

ugh

Em writes a thank you note for the present

Hoist by my own petard

I tend to hold certain information close to my chest. Big things that are happening in my life. (This is SUCH an introvert characteristic.)

For example, when i was pregnant, i didn't tell anyone for as long as possible. (Well, The Mister knew, but only because he was there when i got pregnant. Plus the puking was hard to hide.)

When i was growing up, information was the currency of control and ridicule, so i learned to keep things hidden. Having a stray exuberant thought thrown back in your face is no fun. ("Remember when you were 11 and you decided you were going to write a weekly newsletter about our block? Remember how you only wrote one issue? I knew it wouldn't last.")

Sometimes withholding information becomes a form of punishment, a way of distancing myself from those from whom i am withholding. ("I'll show you! I'll never tell you ANYTHING, ever again!")

It appears that i am still stomping around in high dudgeon 39 years later.

The Mister and i will be making a huge change in our lives in about 8 months. (We will be moving.)

I have yet to tell my family.

When i think of having to answer questions from them about it for the next 8 months (or maybe longer, who knows) i feel tired.

The problem with this approach is that then it becomes awkward when you do tell.

"When did you decide to do that?"

"Oh, um, hmm, ah, sometime last year." (Not mentioning that it was in February last year.)

*awkward silence.*

Maybe i should just call them up after the fact and casually mention that i have a new address.

Yep, that'll work.

I think this might be called a bucket list

Sometimes other bloggers tag me for memes. Sometimes i do them. I'm going to do this one before i forget. It's from Candy, over at Candy's Corner. Candy is no poodle, but i'm not sure why.

I am to list eight things i want to do before i die. Whilst reading Candy's list, i naturally started thinking about what would be on my list. Then i saw she had tagged me. Damn! Be careful what you wish for.

I was struck by how none of the things on her list would be on mine. No fucking way would i want to own a restaurant.

Here goes:

1) Be in good enough shape to hike up Mt. Fuji. I'm not sure i want to hike up Mt. Fuji, but i'd like to be able to if i did.

2) Snorkel in the Galapagos. This might actually happen as i am starting to talk with a friend about maybe going there next year. How cool would that be? This is one of the benefits of being a woman of leisure. Although that makes me sounds a little like a prostitute. Sadly, i have never received money in exchange for sex.

3) Write a book. The trouble with this goal is that i am lazy. Writing a book would be a lot of work, and i hate work. As a woman of leisure, work is for other people. But you never know, i might. I'm not sure i even care if it gets published, just that i would write it. I have no talent or stomach for the self-promotion that would be required to write a book that actually sold.

4) Be braver. This morning at 8 am Em got into a car with 4 other girls and headed off to see something called Warp Tour. She won't be home until tomorrow. The Mister is right-now-this-very-minute on an airplane winging his way to India. I am anxious as hell. I couldn't have told The Mister he couldn't go. I could have told Em she couldn't go, but i didn't. I wish these sorts of things didn't make me so nervous. Odds are that everything will be fine. People fly to far off places and go to drug-frenzied rock concerts all the time. Right?

5) Learn to cook. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say, Learn to Like to cook. I like eating well enough, and i do cook, but i do not love it. It's a means to an end, eating. To me it seems depressing to spend 2 hours (or whatever) lovingly creating a meal, and then having it all eaten in 20 minutes or less. Then there's the dishes.

6) Make a fucking quilt. That means shop for the fabric, design the thing, cut out the pieces, sew them together in a different formation, add sashing, pay someone else to do the actual quilting and put binding on it. Not just buy the pretty fabric.

7) Learn to count.

Navel gazing

I am here:

Drinking this:
Eating this:
(He looks like he is hugging the mashed potatos for safety. Didn't work, i ate him anyway.)

Looking at patterns caused by grass and wind and sand:
I'm thinking about brutal honesty.

Many years ago i read that when being brutally honest, you should make sure that you are enjoying the honesty more than the brutality.

This has stuck with me, because i suspect, no, i know it for a fact, that there are times when i enjoy the brutality. It's an easy way to strike out, with the built in defense of honesty. Truth is a defense against libel, right?

What am i accomplishing with this honesty? I am usually striking out in a moment of anger, or hurt. (Being hurt makes me angry.) So i am making myself feel temporarily better. I can usually carry around the self-righteous justification for my brutal honesty for quite a while. I am nothing if not stubborn.

But as to what i am really accomplishing, the answer is more complex. Time to turn the brutally honest beam upon myself. Any other use of it is strictly forbidden going forward.

In which i go for a hike

THE GOOD:

Cool rock formations.

Kim demonstrating the proper downhill technique.

The snow.

PIKA! Wookit him's widdle ears!

The view from the top.

Trees and boulders.

Someone with whom to share my lunch.

Things i almost mistook for lemon gummy bears.

Ibuprofen. (Vitamin I)

THE BAD:

Bee sting.

Fucking assholic hikers who leave their trash behind.

Old knees.

THE UGLY:

Look how Smokey is holding his nose!

Jabba the Hutt?

Pay attention to the cats

A picture of my cats, in order to distract you from this post. Is it working?

This is odd, because i consider myself an expert at anticipatory grief. I can get myself all worked up, sometimes to the point of tears, with my 'what-ifs.'

Em is leaving for college in less than a month, and i am totally in denial about how sad i am going to be.

The two of us went to see Mamma Mia this week. (A movie you don't need to actively avoid, but you don't need to seek it out either.) There is one scene where the mother is helping the daughter get ready for her wedding and it is a tender, poignant moment (at least for those of you without my cold, black heart.) At my side, i hear Em sniffling a little, but i resist mightily because, dammit! I will not be manipulated by Hollywood. So i just got a little misty-eyed, undetectable to any other movie patron. Whew.

In the car after the movie, Em asks if i noticed her crying. I lied and said "No." She proceeded to burst into tears with "How am i going to leave you? I'm going to miss you so much! I don't want to go." She cried for a good 5 minutes whilst i said what i hoped were comforting things.

We continued on, went grocery shopping and went home. Em disappeared upstairs.

When she came down an hour or so later, she apologized for crying.

"My God!" i said, "don't apologize. It's scary out there and you know i'm going to miss the hell out of you too."

"Yeah, that scene hit a little close to home for me," she continued. "You are basically my best friend."

I may have wept, a little, then.

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

Here's the deal. I know she has to go. I believe that it's a good thing she's going. She's going to learn SO much and grow SO much and she can't do that with me there. I know all this. I feel SO LUCKY to have a daughter who likes me, and i continue to be amazed that such a relationship can exist between any mother and daughter.

She's making it harder for me to continue in my little bubble of denial, but my will is strong.

Marriage tip from Meno

The Mister and i were at a party recently and we were chatting amiably with some friendly strangers, as one must do at parties, when they discovered that we had been married for 26 years.

(An aside, i do not like going to parties with The Mister, and usually i manage to avoid him when i do, but we were eating and i was trapped. I don't like going to parties with him for two reasons; because he takes over the conversation and is touchy about what i say, so i tend to try and not say anything.)

So the other two people, who had been together for about 6 months, smiled at each other with googly eyes, asked the inevitable question: What is your advice for staying together?

(The irony of them asking us for relationship advice is that i was busy thinking dark thoughts about The Mister because i couldn't get a word in edgewise.)

The Mister answered them with something about listening and humor and trust, all that true but treacly stuff.

If i had answered, this would have been what i said:

FOR GOD'S SAKE GET TWO SINKS IN YOUR BATHROOM!

My friend = her mentor

I went hiking last weekend with my friend Eileen and The Mister. Em really likes Eileen, so i used Eileen's presence to entice her to go hiking with us. (I try and sneak exercise into Em's day through whatever devious methods i can think of.)

Eileen is about 20 years younger than i am, which makes her much cooler than i in Em's eyes. During the last part of the hike, The Mister and i could hear Em and Eileen chattering away behind us. It pleases me a lot that Em has adults other than boring old mom and dad who like her and listen to her and to whom she looks up.

It's important in a young person's life to have these people. People you know will give good advice and say things that you are okay with her hearing. And that your child might actually listen to because it isn't you who said it.

(I will say that Em listens to me pretty well, but it's always nice to have reinforcement.)

The Mister and i smiled that Indulgent Parent Smile at one another and kept out of their way.

In which i expose my own ass

No there will not be any pictures you perverts.

I seem to be on a roll lately with the ass posts. In keeping with that, i will now report on my first experience with Colon Cam yesterday.

When you turn a certain age, doctors go nuts. Mammograms, heart tests, and last and most fun, Colon Cam!

I found the idea of this so mortifying that i would have avoided it using the Nancy Reagan tactic of "Just Say No", except that my doctor, who is younger than i am, has had this done several times since she has a family history of colon cancer. So i pretty much had too.

Some thoughts:

* [begin rant] It speaks volumes about our fucked up health care system that i would be considered a candidate for this invasion. I have no symptoms and no family history. It cost about $2,500 for the procedure. I am lucky enough to have health insurance that pays for this, but not everyone does. It pisses me off that only insured people have access to preventative medicine. If you are poor, you better not get sick. Vote accordingly y'all. [end rant]

* The preparation involves a special diet and drinking this horrid liquid that leaves you clean as a whistle, inside and out. Yes, it's about as much fun as it sounds. Butt hey, i lost 4 pounds in 2 days!

* It's a little weird meeting people and knowing that in a few minutes they will be sticking a flexible camera tube up your ass.

* When the doctor came in and introduced himself, i didn't want to shake his hand, as i didn't know where those hands had been.

* Afterwards, they give you pictures. Pictures! In Color! Of the inside of my large intestine! I don't have a real problem with this as i am the curious type, butt they could have at least assked first. Also i bet they charged the insurance company $200 or so for my copy of the pictures. (See rant above.) Maybe i'll carry them in my wallet to impress new friends. "Hi, i'm meno, want to see some picture of me?"

* The drugs are awesome. I floated home in a haze of relaxed happiness, ate a hamburger and took a nap.


Results?

I am the perfect ass.

Butt we already knew that.

The Things We Do for Love

I love my daughter. Now i have proof of that love that no one can deny.

Last night i committed this act of pure love:

Yes. Yes i did. I took Em to see the American Idols Live! show. (I apologize for the crappy picture, but it was DARK in there.)

I expected there to be much merchandising and tackiness and sales pitches, but i never expect it to be as much as it is. There was even an intermission so they could make us listen to pitches for more sponsors.

You can see by the ticket that the event was sponsored by Pop Tarts. So naturally there was a person dressed as a Pop Tart milling around. I did not take a picture of the giant Pop Tart because too many other people were and i didn't want to give the Pop Tart the satisfaction. That'll teach it!

I spent some time amusing myself with my camera and was able to add to my collection of ass cracks in public photography collection.

Yes, of course you can see:

In all honesty, i must admit that i enjoyed the show. These kids can really sing.

But the best part was listening and watching Em have so much fun. She sang along, she screamed, she clasped her hands to her bosom in happiness. She held up her cell phone so that her friends could "hear" their favorite songs. She chattered 50 miles an hour the whole way home. It was great

What an ass

I came home the other day to find a mostly submerged paddle boat nudging our beach.

"Oh, how sad," i thought, "someone lost their paddle boat. I better go rescue it and maybe they'll come by, see it and take it home."

I started bailing out the wells, and trying to tug it up onto the beach. It weighed a ton. I would bail a little, tug a little and then bail a little more. One of my neighbors saw me struggling and came over to help. (Neighbor man is kind of cute, so that was fun!) Together we managed to drag it up on the beach.

There was a big gash along one side. "It must have gotten damaged in the water," said i to neighbor man.

"Hmmmm," neighbor man replied. (Perhaps he's from Minnesota.)

Then i noticed all the regularly sized square holes all along the side and sprinkled across the top.

Apparently the real story is that someone decided they were tired of their paddle boat, took a railroad spike and drove it repeatedly through the boat and pushed it out into the water. As if something made of plastic and Styrofoam would actually sink.

Now we have to chain saw the bitch apart, as i cannot lift the whole thing, rent a truck and take it to the dump. I briefly contemplated pushing it back out and letting someone else deal with it. But that's not how i roll, dammit.

Thanks jerk.

Y'all can help by thinking bad karma thoughts about whomever pulled this stupid stunt.

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

I volunteer at an agency that does counseling for kids. Kids with drug problems and/or family problems. Kids with no money. The term for these kids is "at-risk." I don't work with the kids, as i am not qualified, but i do other stuff that helps the place out, because i believe that all kids deserve to be taken care of as best we can.

The agency just started a summer program that takes some of the kids to various places in the community for free. Places like the zoo and the aquarium and hiking.

Last week i noticed that they didn't have enough adults to supervise the next week's activity, when they were going to go hiking, and i like hiking, so i volunteered to go.

However, last Thursday dawned with rain, lightening and thunder, the likes of which are rarely seen around here, so hiking was out. But i had to go anyway, because without me they didn't have enough adults.

Shit!.

We took the kids to a museum. Here are a few of the comments:

"This is stupid."
"I'm bored."
"I've already been here."
"When are we leaving?"
"Do we have to stay here?"

Honestly, the kids had a pretty good time, but these are kids with behavior and attitude problems, so they complain. And complain. Along with all the other normal but obnoxious behaviors of a group of pre-teen mostly boys. (Spitting, cursing, endless fart references, punching each other, throwing things.)

But i survived, and was grateful to get back to the agency. One of the counselors asked me how it went.

"You know," i replied, "I don't really like kids."

"Who does?" he answered.

Cheered me right up.

Honey i shrunk my world

I see how it begins.

You don't want to drive downtown anymore, because the traffic scares you. So you stop. You still go downtown, but you take the bus. But only during the day, because at night there are scary people on the bus. And not during rush hour as it's crowded and you might have to stand.

Driving at night is difficult because you don't see well in the dark, so you stop going places at night, unless it's somewhere close with which you are familiar.

Remembering the directions to new places is hard, and so is seeing the street signs. Why don't they make them bigger? Your kids tell you to use Google Maps, but you can't figure out how. They show you, but it just never works when you try it.

Crowds annoy you. So you start planning things so as to avoid them. Go to the county fair? No way! It's hot and noisy and crowded. Plus the food is overpriced.

Hey, you can get the early bird special at Anthonys if you get there before 6:00 pm. Cool. Plus it's not dark then, or crowded. Triple score.

The other cars on the freeway are driving past you like you are standing still. Why is everyone in such a hurry? Now you don't drive on the freeway at all. It's not safe.

After a while you just stop going anywhere at night, it's just not worth getting in the car.

Next you make a mental list of the 5 places you are still comfortable going.
1) Grocery Store (plan ahead to avoid going on the weekend or after work. If you go then, all the little carts that you like are being used.)
2) Post Office (but not at noon, or after three. There's always a line then.)
3) The Mall (but only on a weekday during the middle of the day, otherwise the crowds are hideous.)
4) Mexican Restaurant just up the street (before 6pm, after that there might be a wait.)
5) Library. (It's closed on Tuesdays though, and you would never go there on the weekend.)


I watched The Mister's parents go through this process and now i am watching my parents go through it. They are still pretty adventurous, but there are two of them. I wonder how much further their world will shrink when there is only one of them. I want them to fight against this trend, but i don't know if they even see it. Maybe it's inevitable.

I want to fight against this shrinking of my world. I already hate crowds and i take the bus downtown. But that's to avoid paying for parking and to save gas. Really.