Gettin' By

Even knowing what was here, it still surprises me.

Still waiting for my body to adjust to not having what it needs, and that is exhausting. The holiday was easy, but, tiring. Making coffee is exhausting. Feeding the cats is exhausting. I take naps to recoup from my nap... But, it's only another 15 days, and I'll get treatment, blood work and then back on meds, so, hurrah!

The house is sold, with my move out date (hopefully!) this weekend. I'm glad I never moved anything back in, thus allowing me to move out in a matter of hours... I've still no idea where I'll go, where I'll live, what I want to focus on. I think seriously about moving back to New York.... I also think about moving to the UK for a few months. One joy is, I'll have this massive freedom...

Life is moving on, doors shut, doors opening. Live and learn and be thankful I'm able to move on, not needing something in my life so desperately, I'll sacrifice myself. I have realised that doing the same thing over and over expecting a different result is where madness lies. I have learned to not be surprised when people act the same way... again, it's not as if they just woke up and became this way-- we are people of habit.

Sophie continues to grow, making me wonder what her mix is... she's the size of a year old cat at six months.

I sound dull as ditchwater, and that is because I am right now.... the most energy I can put forth is reading, flipping channels and knitting.... and knitting little hats for an organisation I found online.

I'm hooked on Home and Garden TV and today, I've watched Wife Swap all day... and enjoyed it.


Someone save me.

Sunday Scribblings~Flash Fiction

Today, the prompt word over at SundayScribblings was 'believe'.

I wrote the following piece aeons ago, reflecting back on my divorce, tucking it away... and, since it had the word 'believe' in it, I dug it out to use...

Word Play

"Believe for once." you said, in hushed tones, your hand in my hair, twisting the curls on your finger. "Believe in us." your mouth moving over mine, soft whispers as your lips slid to my jaw and down my throat. "Please, believe in me, in what I tell you, trust in this future I swear will happen." Murmured phrases, your face between my breasts, our bodies still wrapped around each other, skin touching, as we breathed in counter-point. "Believe when I tell you I cannot imagine life without you, that the last thing I want on this earth is to be held in your arms, to hear your heart beat, to have your scent surround me." "Believe." you asked, and I answered with blind faith until she called to brag of your betrayal, destroying all--giving proof to not trust anyone who uses that particular phrase, that word. The truth lies at the core--beLIEve.

Three Word Wednesday-On A Friday

Faith
Miracle
Whisper

Hush

We go through life, asking for miracles at football games or when we stand at the bedside of a terminally ill loved one or putting forth the desire to not be alone. Our prayers are whispered, rising up on the smoke of candles... carried in the frosty air as the smoke from our breath moves into the world. Sometimes, those prayers move though space and time, and reach the ear of God, who grants the request. Faith is when we continue to believe in both the words we sent forth into the hush and in the Master of the Universe, even as the thing we asked for is not granted...still going forward, in full trust that one day... one day... it will happen.

The Weather Outside Is Dreary

I woke up to snow.

Of course, I went to bed to snow, too...but, this is getting beyond foolish, I mean, really... who is supposed to keep up shoveling this stuff? Since Monday alone, we've had snow four of five days. FOUR OF FIVE DAYS!! The only walk and drive shoveled is the one owned by the little lady down the street who sweeps it all off.

I may hire her to come clear my area.

I did shovel once. Once. That exhausted me.. I'm at the point now where even the small amount I did yesterday morning caused me to nap for two hours. Later, The Investment and I went to a film and to have Chinese food. Sadly, nothing was open for food, but, we did see "The Yes Man". I vote 'No' on anyone seeing it.... well, not "No", but, wait until DVD.

It wasn't as huge a loss of time as "The Day the Earth Stood Still".... a film I offered up two hours of my life to see. Back in the day, Limbo was where those who weren't baptised Catholic went when they died. Later, Limbo moved with no forwarding address, taking my silver dimes with them. I think it's been brought back as "Films That Suck" space... and it costs more than a dime to get in...

Here's to the hope everyone is enjoying their holidays....

The Card I Didn't Mail Out

Best to all, for every holiday that falls at this time....



Quin

Gratitude~Part II

I follow a number of blogs, reading, commenting... each one different, each offering me new insight.

I'm fortunate to have a number of readers here.... they read and comment, and those comments also give me insight to what is, what I'm doing, what I've done. I appreciate all of those.

Dramatic One~sassy, smart, silly. Clive Owen doesn't know what he's missing. She is bold and brash and I love reading of her life, watching her moving into the next part of her life, far from everything she's known, and, my money is on her.

Lance~here is a man who is apart from his Blonde for the first time in 42 years this holiday. Why? Because he took two years off from his 'real' life, to go to Mississippi and help folk who were displaced by Katrina. He is the kind of person who makes me feel little in the world.

Wit~Published, produced, excellent reviews! Like Veronica, her writing skills blow me away, and show me that yes, talent is rewarded... and theirs is the talent that makes you catch your breath at times, with it's intensity.

DebB~she reads, seldom comments, reminds me on the phone when I'm too far up my own arse. Big fight coming up for her... I'm here for you!

Loo~my sista! If nothing else, she is the reason Neville and Margaret existed... she's loyal, decent, a parent who believes that's her job, gives herself completely to friends and loved ones. I want her laugh when I grow up.

Vinny~wonders and writes and questions all that happens in life; always going forward, even when he feels there may not be a reason to do so.

Greg~who was overseas, came home, and survived all he saw and did... and stayed a good guy.

Austere~ somehow, even if I've not said a word, she gleans what is on and writes. Her own blog is full of floating images of her life, pain at times, glimpses of things to laugh about. She allows me to share The Parent, giving me someone to keep in that place in my heart.

Isle ~read his blog, if you get the chance. When does fiction end and his life begin? Who knows?

A select group of people who read, who comment... who enlighten me and give me hope and drop little lines to say, "It'll work!". Someone said bloggers are full of ego, putting our words out there... the "look at me!" thing. Well, our words are all we ever own. We become a loose group, a tribe I suppose, of people who care, who send notes that can make me laugh so hard, I snort.

I've been lucky with the full group named on the side of my bit of the sandbox... I'm never bored, wishing I didn't have them linked, or find them shallow or trite.

Thank each and every one of you, for being the people you are, for your words, your bravery in putting out your life for the world...that lets me find great hope for the future.

My life would be a shallow and still puddle, instead of the deep, moving river that it is with all of you, posters, readers, those other bloggers.

Thank you, again.

Christmas Gratitude

The lack of essential cells in my body is causing huge problems.

One is my short bursts of energy that dissipate, leaving me sleeping for hours in that odd place where you don't really sleep but dwell on issues and throw in some butterflies and it all makes sense.

One thing I didn't do, couldn't do, was sent out handwritten cards to those people who have been part of my life, who make huge differences... those who have made me laugh and think and weep for one reason or another.

Please indulge me, as, along with those personal emails (so, SO, tacky I'd say normally... but, I have no choice this year), I want to do a few posts naming people who have helped change my life.



Solomon-I discovered his blog via Golfwidow, and it gave me reason to hope about many things. Here is a place that is about being grateful for the big and little things in life. What you've manifested for the day, what you perhaps have done that was a kindness to another. He makes me stop and think about how I'm going about life, what karma is about, and how easy it is to hold dear the words of someone you've never met.

Peter-My guy. Another that gives me the ability to look beyond the pain of what is, and see the future. Who reminds me without words we can all find happiness, if we stop crying over spilt milk, and accept with love those who love us, warts and all.

The Weather Guy-No, I'm not mad with being ill. He gave me great joy of a place to be safe and content and then, the enormous pain of betrayal of friendship, regardless of the rest of our relationship. I learned quite a bit from him in many ways; how we view things from different sides. I'm at peace, and, my time in my life with him made me see love (in whatever form) is funny on what it makes people choose to do, isn't it? (he remains anonymous, and I won't share his blog linkage)

CF-My friend who moved to NYC from Utah, taking me with her. She's held in there, struggling at times, never losing sight of her goal in life. We don't always agree, but, I admire her tenacity.

Miss Sof-There aren't enough words for Miss Sof. Let it be understood my life would be so barren without her friendship, everything would be beige.

Golfwidow-Who showed all of us, you can recreate your life, hold on to a sense of humour and dignity, and make a new existence in a new place, with nothing. She is one of my hero's.

Thom-He calls, he writes, he shares his life, and takes on bits of mine. Another who took on a whole new existence, and is making a name for himself in his new place. One day, I'll actually mail his scarf.

Tim-Our phone calls make me laugh so hard, I can't be in public, because I start to cough and wheeze. He's had a tough year, yet still holds strong to what he wants in life. Another example for me to follow.

Robert-Who knew a guy who wanted to put forth a place for flash fiction would be so bloody successful? He wades through the morass that is creating his site, tweeking here, moving that there.... and he does it along with encouraging those of us who thought we were far from talented.

Cormac-The man can write. He is also a father and husband who works hard at those jobs, of being there for his family, for his friends... who encourages people around him, and who believes in his friends.

Oddship-He's there when I need him, and sets me straight on a number of things. When I sent a painful rant to him, then thanked him for reading, the response was, "Didn't we agree you'd stick to 15 words or less on this stuff?". It made me laugh, and reassess what was important. His work raises the bar for me to aspire to, his critiques aren't always nice. Like Cormac and Bud (below), he's a father who takes pride in that position in life.

Bud-Talent, perseverance, love of his wife (I envy both his and Cormac's missus), never with a harsh word. He makes me believe in me.

More later, this has worn me out emotionally.... and I've many more to thank.


I appreciate your patience here...

LA Is A Great Big Place

I've perfected the "This is MY highway!" look.

It is the look you have to have driving in California, especially LA, as I've mentioned before. I came in yesterday from the Land O'Utes to visit the Brother and SIL. I make no bones about the fact I adore each of them, along with the three dogs who sit at your feet when they aren't staring at you.

I made decent time until Las Vegas, where I was tied up in traffic for 90 minutes.... I'm still not sure why as I didn't see the kind of carnage you'd expect to see to have that kind of traffic jam. Driving 90mph helped make up a bit of time, and it was shocking to see snow in Vegas and out in the desert.

I'm boring as hell here, having gone to Costco (HURRAH!!!) and this enomorous liquor store. To get into the Brother's jeep, I have to put one leg in then hold onto the seat to lever myself into the what seems to be 3 feet off the ground interior. He finds this amusing. I'm glad one of us does.... and, he'd better start remembering I was born first and let him live, so, he kinda owes me loyalty.

Tomorrow is green chili day, and a play that I'll see with Peter of Plastic Bubble World, so, I'm very happy to hae that coming up.

Mostly I rest, I'm dead tired and can't get enough sleep it seems....

I move out of my house next week, and have no idea where I'll be living.... this should be interesting. I do know there is a trip to see Loo in the UK again in January after my tests, and a trip back to New York to help finish the film I started my career as a script supervisor on.. Kim invited me to work on it as a Producer, and I'm thrilled to death to go back, to work, and to see her.

The future looks very bright, indeed.

Weather Guy, Part II

Very seldom do I bring my private life fully onto my journal.

I tend to keep things that are extremely important to me posted elsewhere in a protected site or written in good ol' pen on paper. Things I puzzle out, am hurt by.... I keep those big things hidden.

I used to mention the Weather Guy here on my bit of sandbox. He was a good friend for years, who moved into the relationship of lover with me. I freely admitted I wouldn't kiss him, and that I regretted that decision. I saw him as a man of honour, decency, kindness... someone I saw on a regular basis, that I spoke to last thing every night...who shared his life with me, once announcing he had to up his phone minutes and text messages, we communicated so much... who laughed with me, teased me, knew how I liked my coffee....we had a relationship, even if we never really kissed.

Over the last two months, a number of revelations were made to me, from his announcing on his Facebook he was in a relationship that didn't have my name on it (classy!), to his girlfriend exploring not only my journal, but, many of those who link here... seeking information on him, I was told.

Now, I am removed from his life.... blocked from all the various places we kept in touch. I've a good idea why, and regardless of that, I am hurt a great deal by these actions. I was in the dark to what was going on, still receiving emails and text messages and the occasional phone call. I was told I was thought of and missed. During this time, Adj (nickname) was flown to his new work location in Zurich, to spend a few weeks. I'm stunned, because I cannot imagine playing this kind of game. A game that involved two women, one who snooped and found out about me, and me... lost in the belief I had a friend.

It's been a very difficult two months... as soon as I'd think it was over, something would happen to bring me back into their chaos. To think my friendship was worth so little I was, as the saying goes, thrown under the bus is emotionally shattering. To be told we never had a relationship in his eyes... I thought relationships were trust, honour, friendship, concern, communication--things we had for 15 months...was a slap in my face. Especially following words to the contrary that were sent to me via emails and text and in voice... on the phone and to my face. We weren't sure what we had, but, we knew it was a 'ship' of some kind.

To spend 15 months, and be 'replaced' in six weeks via an internet relationship, with lies going on while he was in his time with me, was heartbreaking. I am trying to move beyond it, the unfairness holds me back.

I've been Googled, searched out, written by the girl... I'm not sure why. I'm told it's to 'research' him. Well, this blog alone shows his affirmation to her that we were nothing more than friends who spoke on the phone hours a day was a pretty big lie. I never went into detail, however, being around him physically one to two weekends a month plus the occasional day we could squeeze into our schedules and all the talking we did, the shared confidences, the laughter... made us more than 'friends'.

To be denied any say in this is harsh. I've been assured it's not anything about me, it's all him... that lovely phrase used when someone knows they have been deliberate in their harm of another. I was told his concern is the girlfriend (his phrase, not mine) would tell their mutual friends of his duplicity and he'd lose his standing in his filk community of being a good guy. He says, he knows I'm one of the best friends he's ever had in his life... and he'll work at keeping that.

I guess he lied there, too.

I've held this inside, speaking to a few people, puzzling it out, crying in rejection, full of pain over this man I cared about so deeply, that I believed I could trust. I treat people the way I expect to be treated, and, I suppose that is what is going on now... they are treating each other the way they expect to be treated, with suspicion and distrust. I gave him levels to rise to, of good things... I really don't know what happened. I do know I have run the full length of feelings here, from taking it all on myself, to anger, to disbelief.

I am worthy of far better than this.

Yes, I can say what many will say... the possibility of them having a real, honest, decent relationship is slim. You cannot build on a foundation of mistrust and lies. Do I wish him harm? No. Do I wish him to hurt as I have? No. Do I still call him friend? No. Do I pity him, for being so afraid he'll do anything to keep this thing he has now going? Yes.

I have contacted him, and, after his first flurry of text messages and emails and phone calls... it's silent. I am done with for him, but, I'm not...or the continual dismissal of what we had, of me, would stop. I do not believe karma is a bitch; I do believe it will take a pound of flesh from you.

I am better than this.

I am not going to allow comments on this post... I hope those of you who read me will understand. This is something I need to do, to vent, to release to the universe the pain and betrayal I feel. To try and forgive him and remind myself I did nothing but trust.

And, to remind myself not to trust again.

Three Word Wednesday~Hesitate, Jealous and Neglect.

Three prompts, five sentences, 58 words.

Who Knew?

Perhaps I had shown neglect in the past, allowing my time and attention to be taken by other, less important, matters. You didn’t hesitate to take advantage of that, slipping around into other places, other lives. No surprise that I showed no jealousy-- instead I simply left. Parenting was hard. To walk away took no effort at all.

Six Sentences-Vol 2

Truth Hurts

Without the formality of the salute, they moved into place, fencers in their final match, squaring off when he came to get his things--his portion of their life together. Engaging in conversation, words their rapiers, parrying...advance...retreat; her pain at being found wanting like a stone bruise; invisible, yet, far too tender to the touch. She feinted, saying in a low voice how confident he'd become since he'd met his lover. Flustered, flattered, preening...his defense dropped, asking why did she think so. Executing a fast riposte, serene smile in place, she struck the winning touch, "Because every time you fuck her, you boldly go where so many have gone before." He gazed dully at the closed door, his hand reaching up to stroke his face, seeking traces of blood from where his ego had been nicked.





Thus reads my accepted submission for the second volume of work by those who contribute to Six Sentences. It was.... wrapped with my own emotions.

Sunday Scribblings~I Knew Instantly

If Only Everything Was As Reliable As A Volkswagen

There was never any doubt.

Not a minute. Not a second. Not even one of those nano-seconds they talk about in science fiction movies and such. No, there was never any doubt in my mind as to what we'd have for dinner that day as my Great Aunt Idell walked the house, brow furrowed, fat folds almost covering her eyes behind the black framed glasses that caught the light from outside on this beautiful Sunday afternoon in Mississippi. It was spring, the crepe myrtle was advancing on the house with the same sense of taking it over as Grant showed when he marched through Richmond 100 years before and the air smelled of newly turned earth, honeysuckle and freshly baked blackberry cobbler.

My grandmother, tiny, thin, her lips seldom in a smile, followed Idell, muttering to herself they should never have let Uncle Burt borrow the Volkswagen . He never put the keys back in the right place, and now that they were needed by these two...well, they weren't nowhere at all.

"Found 'em!" shouted Idell, her stockinged thighs rubbing together announcing her arrival before you actually saw her entering a room. "Bonnie? I found 'em! Let's get going on this!"

Being a part time City child, I found most of the chores around this farm.ish kind of a place dull, and almost serf like in responsibility. Who on earth wanted to gather eggs or shovel manure or even, for heavens sake, pick vegetables? I didn't want to know where my food came from, I only wanted it cooked and served in the cool of the evening, after I'd read up in a tree, avoiding as much manual labour as I possibly could.

There was, however, one event...one task I loved to watch. Call me sick, call me twisted, but, make sure you called my 6 year old self when this would happen. It would start with that walk though the house, the search for the 1958 Bug keys by those two women. Once found, Idell would take her bulk out to the shed where her beloved car sat. It was eight years old and had 6000 miles on it, all of them either driving back and forth to the Baptist church on Sundays and Wednesdays.... and a few when the car was used as a weapon of destruction.

Neither woman could actually kill a chicken, you see. One was too small to do damage, one too soft hearted. But, in order to have fried chicken for Sunday Dinner, you had to, well, kill one. They finally figured out a plan, one that saved them from using an ax or wringing necks; one they felt was humane. My grandmother would kneel down on her apron, holding the chicken still with it's head on a large flat rock, and Idell would back her car slowly over the chicken's head, effectively killing the chicken and stopping that running around the yard a beheaded chicken tends to do. I'm not sure why they never had my father chop the head off, or why Great Aunt Idell never drove forward to kill the chicken... it was always the call of "Where are the car keys??" and the subsequent ritual of chicken down, car backed out, chicken dead.

So, there was never any doubt what was for dinner and I knew instantly when I heard that phrase, when I saw my Grandmother head for the coop.... fried chicken for dinner with all the Southern fixin's plus the added bonus of what passed for afternoon entertainment on the farmette was in store.

These days, it's far easier to fix chicken, I get in my VW and drive to buy prepackaged, dead, plucked, ready to cook chicken. It's far easier....

.....but, not nearly as much fun.

16 MeMe's

Golfwidow tagged me. I'm not tagging anyone back, though. If you want to pretend I tagged you and do this thing, have at it.


1. I don't like my food to touch

2. I kept my kids from knowing about santa until they were 10 or so.

3. I talk to the television.

4. I have no wrinkles on the top of my left middle finger knuckle, I've chewed/rubbed them off stimming.

5. I hate cars and driving.

6. I jump into bed so my feet won'tl be near the dark place underneath as I get in.

7. I can ride beautifully... dressage or jumping.

8. I am not usually fond of children.

9. I started reading at 4.

10. I have done acid, mesc, mushrooms and peyote when I was in high school.

11. I knit to calm myself.

12. There was a time I didn't really leave my house for almost four years.

13. I am not afraid of death.

14. I can't figure out why they advertise drugs to promote male erections, then tell you if you get one for a long time, run to the ER

15. Sports scare me.

16. I suck at budgeting.

Six of One

I don't understand people.

When you say to them, as advice, "Do not seek snakes to bite you, because you will find them every time."-- and they seek them anyway. I see the evidence the search was made, the snake was found, and I am sorrowful the person was hurt.

Yet.

If they had not gone hunting, delving into my life, if they had not been part of hurting me to begin with... they'd not have been harmed. If they had stopped after the first time, if they'd left well enough alone. Why drag me back into things I wanted no part of, then, go Googling and digging and reading here and there for information they knew would be painful to read? Hiding behind IP blockers (which do not hide other tell tale areas that divulge who you are) to dig around in my life. Things I wrote in innocence long ago, and do not feel I should have to delete?

There is not right nor wrong, but, decisions and consequences for those decisions. You can blame one but yourself for what occurs, when you are advised, and you move forward in full awareness you are looking for that snake.

In the end, who is the one wronged?

Thank You, St Joseph!

I'm awake every two hours, what a shame no one has a baby I could be feeding.

My least favourite symptom has already raised it's head... I itch, and can't stand fabric on my skin. Even my best sheets are a nightmare next to my hyper sensitive largest organ (calm down, it's the skin) so, I toss and turn and scratch.

The up side is, I sold my house! Hurrah!! We hope to close by the end of the month, and with that, I'll buy my ticket to the U of K to visit my dear Loo and the girls (which means more Neville info), upgrade my car (so long, Norma Jean), and think about where I'm going to live on a full time basis.

New York? Los Angeles? London? They all sound wonderful, and knowing I can pay a deposit, and move, and be comfortable is lovely.

If I could just stop scratching long enough to really think about my next step.

Three Word Wednesday~Enemy, Shatter, Vague

If At First You Don't Succeed

Every year, I am required to see my doctor, to make sure all is well after that major operation two years ago. Usually, it's a simple check-up... we chat, some blood is drawn; you know, the basic tests that seem vague to the patient, and so very important to the medical team.

This time, his brow furrowed when he looked at my blood work, at the scans, at the long words in the reports that come with my disease, that enemy we'd taken on with radiation and nuclear meds, the treatment that rendered me weak and so very angry at my body that had betrayed me. In the end, after months of treatment, I'd come out on top, though, beating those rogue cells, coming out the winner, wallowing in my good health since.


"It's back." he said. "We are at square one." I sat, listening, my bubble of safety shattered...my realisation I was again on the path of hospital stays, drips, needles....drove me close to tears, shutting my eyes in order to seek the strength to nod my acceptance of what is, what will be... making myself ready to take this on one more time.


I'm ready to rumble.

I've Seen HOW Many Movies??

So, you cut and paste the list, and count how many of the films you've seen. It appears I have no life.

(x) Rocky Horror Picture Show
(x) Grease
(x) Pirates of the Caribbean
(x) Pirates of the Caribbean 2: Dead Man's Chest
() Boondock Saints
(x) Fight Club
(x) Starsky and Hutch
(x) Neverending Story
(x) Blazing Saddles
(x) Airplane
Total: 9

(x) The Princess Bride
(x) Anchorman
(x) Napoleon Dynamite
(x) Labyrinth
() Saw
() Saw II
(x) White Noise
(x) White Oleander
(x) Anger Management
(x) 50 First Dates
(x) The Princess Diaries
(x) The Princess Diaries 2: Royal Engagement
Total so far: 19

() Scream
() Scream 2
() Scream 3
(x) Scary Movie
(x) Scary Movie 2
(x) Scary Movie 3
(x) Scary Movie 4
(x) American Pie
(x) American Pie 2
(x) American Wedding
() American Pie Band Camp
Total so far: 26

(x) Harry Potter 1
(x) Harry Potter 2
(x) Harry Potter 3
(x) Harry Potter 4
(x) Resident Evil 1
(x) Resident Evil 2
(x) The Wedding Singer
(x) Little Black Book
(x) The Village
(x) Lilo & Stitch
Total so far: 38

(x) Finding Nemo
(x) Finding Neverland
(x) Signs
(x) The Grinch
() Texas Chainsaw Massacre
() Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning
(x) White Chicks
(x) Butterfly Effect
(x) 13 Going on 30
(x) I, Robot
(x) Robots
Total so far: 47

(x) Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story
(x) Universal Soldier
(x) Lemony Snicket: A Series Of Unfortunate Events
(x) Along Came Polly
(x) Deep Impact
(x) KingPin
(x) Never Been Kissed
(x) Meet The Parents
(x) Meet the Fockers
(x) Eight Crazy Nights
(x) Joe Dirt
(x) KING KONG
Total so far: 59

(x) A Cinderella Story
(x) The Terminal
() The Lizzie McGuire Movie
(x) Passport to Paris
(x) Dumb & Dumber
(x) Dumber & Dumberer
(x) Final Destination
(x) Final Destination 2
() Final Destination 3
() Halloween
(x) The Ring
() The Ring 2
(x) Surviving X-MAS
(x) Flubber
Total so far: 63

(x) Harold & Kumar Go To White Castle
(x) Practical Magic
(x) Chicago
(x) Ghost Ship
() From Hell
(x) Hellboy
(x) Secret Window
(x) I Am Sam
(x) The Whole Nine Yards
(x) The Whole Ten Yards
Total so far: 75

(x) The Day After Tomorrow
(x) Child's Play
() Seed of Chucky
() Bride of Chucky
(x) Ten Things I Hate About You
(x) Just Married
(x) Gothika
(x) Nightmare on Elm Street
(x) Sixteen Candles
(x) Remember the Titans
(x) Coach Carter
(x) The Grudge
() The Grudge 2
(x) The Mask
() Son Of The Mask
Total so far: 85

(x) Bad Boys
(x) Bad Boys 2
() Joy Ride
(x) Lucky Number Slevin
(x) Ocean's Eleven
(x) Ocean's Twelve
(x) Bourne Identity
(x) Bourne Supremacy
() Lone Star
(x) Bedazzled
(x) Predator I
(x) Predator II
(x) The Fog
(x) Ice Age
(x) Ice Age 2: The Meltdown
(x) Curious George
Total so far: 99

(x) Independence Day
(x) Cujo
(x) A Bronx Tale
() Darkness Falls
(x) Christine
(x) ET
(x) Children of the Corn
(x) My Bosses Daughter
(x) Maid in Manhattan
(x) War of the Worlds
(x) Rush Hour
(x) Rush Hour 2
Total so far: 109

() Best Bet
(x) How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days
(x) She's All That
(x) Calendar Girls
(x) Sideways
(x) Mars Attacks
(x) Event Horizon
(x) Ever After
(x) Wizard of Oz
(x) Forrest Gump
(x) Big Trouble in Little China
(x) The Terminator
(x) The Terminator 2
(x) The Terminator 3
Total so far: 122

(x) X-Men
(x) X-2
(x) X-3
(x) Spider-Man
(x) Spider-Man 2
(x) Sky High
(x) Jeepers Creepers
() Jeepers Creepers 2
(x) Catch Me If You Can
(x) The Little Mermaid
(x) Freaky Friday
(x) Reign of Fire
(x) The Skulls
(x) Cruel Intentions
() Cruel Intentions 2
(x) The Hot Chick
(x) Shrek
(x) Shrek 2
Total so far: 138

(x) Swimfan
(x) Miracle on 34th street
(x) Old School
(x) The Notebook
(x) K-Pax
(x) Krippendorf's Tribe
(x) A Walk to Remember
(x) Ice Castles
() Boogeyman
(x) The 40-year-old Virgin
Total so far: 147

(x) Lord of the Rings Fellowship of the Ring
(x) Lord of the Rings The Two Towers
(x) Lord of the Rings Return Of the King
(x) Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark
(x) Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom
(x) Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade
Total so far: 153

(x) Baseketball
() Hostel
(x) Waiting for Guffman
() House of 1000 Corpses
() Devils Rejects
(x) Elf
(x) Highlander
(x) Mothman Prophecies
(x) American History X
() Three
Total so Far: 159

(x) The Jacket
(x) Kung Fu Hustle
(x) Shaolin Soccer
() Night Watch
(x) Monsters Inc.
(x) Titanic
(x) Monty Python and the Holy Grail
(x) Shaun Of the Dead
(x) Willard
Total so far: 167

() High Tension
(x) Club Dread
(x) Hulk
(x) Dawn Of the Dead
(x) Hook
(x) Chronicles Of Narnia: The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe
(x) 28 days later
(x) Orgazmo
() Phantasm
(x) Waterworld
Total so far: 175

(x) Kill Bill vol 1
(x) Kill Bill vol 2
(x) Mortal Kombat
() Wolf Creek
(x) Kingdom of Heaven
(x) the Hills Have Eyes
() I Spit on Your Grave aka the Day of the Woman
() The Last House on the Left
() Re-Animator
(x) Army of Darkness
Total so far: 182

(x) Star Wars Ep. I The Phantom Menace
(x) Star Wars Ep. II Attack of the Clones
(x) Star Wars Ep. III Revenge of the Sith
(x) Star Wars Ep. IV A New Hope
(x) Star Wars Ep. V The Empire Strikes Back
(x) Star Wars Ep. VI Return of the Jedi
() Ewoks Caravan Of Courage
(x) Ewoks The Battle For Endor
Total so far: 189

(x) The Matrix
(x) The Matrix Reloaded
(x) The Matrix Revolutions
(x) Animatrix
(x) Evil Dead
() Evil Dead 2
(x) Team America: World Police
(x) Red Drago7
(x) Silence of the Lambs
(x) Hannibal
Total so far: 197 out of 239
Now Add them up and...

Put "I've seen (___) out of 239 films" in the subject line and repost it.

Home

Easy trip.

I'm not sure who is happier--me with my bed again, or Sophie with a head to sleep on, once more.


Home.

Getting My Groove Back

Days left before I go.

I'm back in the swing of things, back with the rhythm of the city, of the place, of the life. I walk everywhere, reducing ass and size and bringing the sounds of the street to my ears, the sights and the smells and the almost taste in the air at times.

I have my morning cup o'coffee from Nick's Diner, walking past the pile of bread left by the night crew from the bakery store. Pigeons flock over it, fighting with each other for small crumbs, the larger loaves hidden from sight by feathered bodies. Early in the morning, taking HF to school, the auto body shops are starting to open... I've a feeling some are chop shops...I'm certainly not going to ask. The guys stand around, sipping coffee, both the liquid and their breath making steam in the cold air, carrying conversations to the sky. One man says every day when I walk by, "She's a looker." He makes me smile.... I'm pretty sure he's at least 70...but, hey, a compliment is a compliment, right?

An event in the city, Upper West Side... F to 14th, the walk via tunnels to the 2... go to 96th and a beautiful venue. Two hours in the shared company of others with one of my favourite people in the world. It was worth the sharing.

Last week, dinner with CB and RB and their parents.... my C and I snuggled and murmured and cuddled for two hours. We discussed lemurs and reindeer. He kissed me a thousand times... and I was told he kept combing his hair because he knew he was going to see me. Both boys insisted I sit between them... RB chatted about school, his now healed broken arm... he showed me his palate expander (ew!) and was his usual genial self. My C, oh! he's grown! Resting his head on my shoulder, curled in my lap, stroking my face, twisting my curls... I cried when I left them.... I left them with the understanding if I want my apartment back in May, it's mine.

We shall see.

I was able to pass through two places, with no emotional bruise pain... and this is the best part of all. The difficult part of ending any relationship, be it a lover or a friend, is discovering the person you thought existed was not really there. We invent what we need at times... and to see bits of reality poke through has been difficult. Truth be told, a need was filled at the time.. I only find sorrow in the deceptions played and in my usual puzzlement at how people will use another person if it means shielding themselves.

I will miss standing on the platforms, bitching about the trains with other passengers... last night, the 'R' showed up on the 'N' side... we lemmings were startled, scared... what was this? The end of the world?? Hadn't the 'R' just pulled up on the proper side? We all stretched back and up to look at the sign... yes, it said, 'N'.... the other side said 'R'. WHAT WAS WRONG, DEAR GOD??? What was wrong, as evidenced by the quick enter and exit of the train, and the fully pissed off look on the engineer of the slow to pull in 'N', was the 'R' had used the wrong track.

HURRAH!!! All was right in our world again! You've no idea how it throws you, when you are pretty sure you are on the right platform, and the wrong train shows up and there is no Rod Serling....

Things are in the wind to change in Utah, I do believe.... fingers crossed there.... Sophie and I may be on the road again.

I can't wait.

Three Word Wednesday~Balance, Dictate, Wonder

Disclosure

Tonight, I'll balance myself on 3" heels, shortening my usual stride to something more refined, letting the place, the clothes, the event... all of these dictate my behaviour. I'll wear my black and cream silk dress with sheer, black hose and those heels in a deep shade of mulberry. I'll have put make up on and simple jewelry-- my nerves in check, my smile at the ready for that exact moment I see him, that second our eyes meet again after a year with one or two phone calls and the sometimes intense emails and I'll wonder if he's wondered...

It's 9.11PM.....Isn't Your Son Born Yet?

Happy Birthday, Son.

Playing in Pueblo....














Posing in uniform.......













I love you forever. But, you already knew that. You were worth all of those hours and the huge gianormous scar where they ripped my body open to pull you out. Never feel any guilt for all the pain and agony I went through.


Ever.

Guessing Game

Gee, what happened today, 26 years ago??


Update at 9.11 PM.

So Far

Bored?

A bit. I've gone from full tilt boogie with three kids around, to just me. Yesterday, I went to see Australia, and was enthralled for the full three hours. It's epic, epic, epic in every way. Good guy, heroine, bad guy who is so stinking bad you want to kill him yourself. A great kid, magic, scenery that takes your breath away, great CGI (as good as CGI can be) a few continuity issues (what? you think I'm not going to mention them?), a romance so great you yearn for one like it, and Hugh Jackman without a shirt. That alone is worth the admission. Fifteen months of filming, three choices for leading man (Heath Ledger and that Crowe guy), and after you see it..you can't imagine anyone buy Jackman, both leads sign on without a script ("....but, Hugh, BAZ is directing! Of course you'll do it!")... it was beyond anything I expected. I do wish there had been an intermission....the classic epics had them, this needs a short one. Aside from that, an amazing film in every aspect.

I stopped at Whole Foods and grabbed some food for dinner, met an interesting man who used to go to New Orleans to play at the Jazz Fest. We chatted for around 20 minutes, then went our separate ways. Easy ride both ways on the train, the usual interesting people on the train. The ride into the city included some people who were talking of never riding the train, they went to "....show the kids". Well, the car we were all in had been hurled in rather recently, and they were stunned. I said sotto voce to the mother, "We do call it the F train for a reason." then told her why. She laughed as her kids yelled EWWWWW over the stench. Thankfully, my stop was next... and I was saved.

Today sent me back into the city, to Century 21 to return some gloves and a pair of pants I'd bought without trying on... they were far too big. A pair of size 10's. Once again, I'm dropping weight in New York, it's the reduced intake and increased walking at a brisk pace. I weighed myself, and I've lost 12 lbs since I arrived... I can live with this. It was an beautiful day, just the right temperature to move around, coat opened, cowboy boots on, iPod in place and finding the beat to move to as I walked, which, I have to say, looked odd to others. I went from "Walking on Broken Glass" fast beats to "Foggy Dew" mournful dirge slow. It leads one to do a bit of a hop and stride down the street.

When I get off the train or out of the door, the decision to walk on cracks or not is made by my first step. If I happen to step on one first off, I'm okay with the decision to continue to do so...if not, I have to add the odd mincing steps to fit in between cracks to the music beat.... I imagine I look a bit whacked when I walk. However, I wear sunglasses, so, if they can't see my eyes, it doesn't count.

Right?

There were a gazillion people there, I twitched and bobbed my way through the store, music on high to drown out the static sound.... made my way where I had to go, and left... almost throwing myself into the cold air, glad to be on the streets with only a million or so of my fellow humans. I had the nice compliment of some odd calls from construction workers I'm told are given to 'mature' ladies, a great companion who teaches in the public school system, a hold up on our train, allowing a group of us to soundly curse the MTA and bond over that very New York task, and I remembered to bring a cup of coffee home to heat up for tomorrow morning, so I don't have to go out tomorrow to get some.

All in all, keeping myself busy until I see C and R tomorrow.... I'm giddy over that event.

Hugh Jackman's half naked body as a thought isn't too bad, either.

My Punishment

From Thom, leader of Three Word Wednesday and Surface Tension:

ONE sentence? That's it? I mean, it's a fine sentence, a wonderful one. OK, your punishment? A Fiction in 58 - using fury, guilt and thankful. You may go now.

Yo, Get OVER Yourself

Plodding through the snow, he was surprised his fury didn’t melt the icy flakes before they settled around him. She showed no guilt throwing him out the house...why? He was truthful with her saggy old ass-self. She should be grateful he gave her any time at all, thankful for the attention. Yo, 44 is old when you’re 26.

Three Word Wednesday~Fury, Thank, Grateful

Okay, I'm going for one sentence with the three words.... (deep breath)

Hrumph

"Thank you, my love" she'd said, pretending to be grateful while hiding the fury brought on by the comment her young lover made regarding her face-- "You look 44, but, let's be honest, that's still really old to me."

Ambien Isn't My Friend

I forgot to link this....

Thom wrote it... we won't mention whom it's about, or who they sent text messages to...

Star Light

There is something I do miss about the openness of Utah skies.

At night, you can open your hand, and feel the light of the heavens in your palm.

Cat Lady, Part II

Sophie fetching.... isn't she clever???

Mangi

Three years.... sometimes, it seems like forever, sometimes, I pick up the phone to call him, surprised not to hear a ring, a fumbling, his voice yelling, "HOLD ON!! HOLD ON!!" while he sorted out which end he was to talk into, trying to turn down the TV, changing the cable by mistake, cursing and yelling and I'd have to go over or send one of the kids to straighten it all out.

He could be an ass or a hoot, depending on the day, even before he was ill.

My father was Sicilian... oh, he was half Irish background, too...but, according to his mother, the Irish DNA sorta slipped through the genetic cracks, leaving him pure Sicilian. He looked it, as does The Investment. I'm more on the Irish side of things... hazel eyes, white skin... they are dark, dark eyes, black hair. Dad also inherited the gift of mangi, and I did take that one on full bore.

You never went to my Mawma's without leaving with a covered dish... I'm fairly sure she supported Reynolds single-handed. She'd wash bits of foil, then reuse them to cover dishes. We'd drive up from New Orleans, arriving at after hours of driving, and she'd have a full on meal... "Oh, you must be starving! Mangi! Mangi!!" And, we did.

I'm startled no one ever died of clogged arteries by the age of 10.

Pasta, stuffed peppers, ravioli, salad... all at 1AM, just a little something for the babies, who were falling asleep in their plates.

I learned the joy of Thanksgiving, my Dad's favourite holiday. Oh, he liked Christmas, because I make the best standing rib roast you'll ever have. No brag; fact. I'd bake a big ham on Christmas Eve, and create amazing pain perdu with Grand Marnier and an apple/pecan sauce on Christmas morning.

He and I also made delish fruitcakes... yes, fruitcakes. My gran's recipe.... ripe with whisky, so ripe you could smell them outside of the garage where we stored them. Our belief was a shot for the cake, a shot for us, one for the cake, one for us... By the end of fruitcake day, we were very, very happy. Rich and pale and full of nuts and dried fruit...the cakes and us.... butter, sugar... ...again, clogged arteries were not to be found. Go figure.

Thanksgiving...now that, that that was our speciality. We'd sit and plan and examine turkeys and buy yams and potatoes and sour cream and butter, oh! the butter! Paula Dean learned from my father.... and, as Dad grew older, more feeble with Alzheimer's and his body started to give way, I did the dinners alone.

He would start talking about them in September, interspersing them with his other favourite topics-- Judge Judy and his body functions. To see a man who had three degrees in things from Mathematics to Archeology slip to this was difficult. He remained a gentleman... always called me to discuss his wardrobe... ironed shirts tucked into his khaki pants, his handkerchief in his pants pocket. He walked with a cane at the end, still holding the doors open for ladies, still pulling my hand, or HRH's, through his arm on occasion... always walking on the curb side of the walkway.

Oh, I make a wonderful turkey. He'd come over, and watch as I made up the brine, holding the bag when I put the turkey in, following me as we shoved it in the extra 'fridge downstairs, having an illicit glass of wine to celebrate. Brine it three days, rinse, stuff and bake... it would be crispy and perfect and he'd slap any one's hand that strayed near the skin. We'd have the china and silver and linen and food everywhere, and he'd be happy in his environment, snore through a nap, take home foil covered left overs.... then it was turkey soup and Christmas menus.

We threw all the food out without ever cutting into anything in 2005. I've not cooked Thanksgiving since. That's been difficult, because, well, I nurture. It's what I do best... cook or knit a lumpy scarf or be there as I can. I can't look you in the eye very well, I am annoying as hell, I can't talk without over talking you at times, I can't hold serious when I'm overcome because it makes me twitch. What I can do is invite you in, give you a plate, and say....


"Mangi!" and hope you realise that means I love you. I adore you. I'd give anything to make your life easier, happier.


Mangi, Dad. I miss you.

It's the Storm, II

I can't believe I'm this quivery.

My Blackberry Storm should be here no later than Tuesday....

I walked by the hours long lines Friday, and thought in a Nelson voice, "ah HA!! Haven't you heard of pre-orders, silly people!!" I understand their phones won't arrive until mid December, and that the Bold is selling on eBay for $900.

Hold on.

$900??


Nah, I've mucked up my current one so much, I'd have to buy something anyway, and by cheating and selling something that didn't cost me that much, aka scalping, I'd bring the gods of karma (which extracts a pound of flesh) on me...

So, I'll keep my new phone when it arrives.


Hurry. Hurry. Hurry.

Chorus Line

The girls take lessons.

ZF has this voice... well, they both do, but, ZF is having her voice trained to audition for one of the professional schools in New York, so, we go to voice lessons twice a week. Both of them take dance lessons... and all of the lessons are given by Russian instructors.

Any kind of Slavic instructor scares me. There was a time long ago, when leg warmers were first fashionable, that the Godmother, Miss Sof and I took aerobic class down at the YMCA. I don't remember Miss Sof showing up much.. she was the smart one back then, too. There was this instructor.. and I use this term kindly...who was from one of those countries where not only the cars, but the curtains were made of iron. Her classes made you weep with pain.... and finally, the Godmother said to her, "I take aerobics all the time, and you exhaust me!". She said this with her happy Godmother smile. Miss Czech 1967 said, "In my country, you must do 'dis. You do it, you not complain. (Silence. Glare.) Must I explain again?"

Right. We avoided her classes after that, no matter how firm our asses.

These instructors are nicer, maybe it's because they found out people have stopped throwing blood on fur coats. No one wears fur like the Russians. They have a sense of entitlement that shows when they walk down the street with the equivalent of a herd of mink on their backs and heads.

And lining their gloves. I feel so guilty knitting with lambswool, I find myself apologising when I split the strand.

On Tuesday, I took them to their group Modern Dance lesson with Hot Russian Boy (who is around 25..to me, that's 'Boy'). I felt it necessary to sit in the room and watch, you know, to make sure he didn't try anything with ZF because she is very pretty (read moving into beautiful age) and, you know, he's got the accent going and, well......

HF worries she won't do a good job, and tends to say, "I can't." They were doing some kind of stretch... one leg bent back, one out front. I'm looking to Peter to tell me what it is, because he would have adored the class, the students and Hot Russian Boy.

HRB says, "You do this" and strrrrrretches. The other three students do it easily. HF refuses. I put down my knitting and say, "It's easy, sweetpea" and slide out my chair into the stretch.

Yeah.

So, at this point, HRB is impressed I can stretch... I knew I was flexible, I can put my fingers under my toes when I bend over at the waist, I can also fully extend my legs with a hand in the arch of my foot... but, this stuff? I'm not that flexible and I'm old.

I'm also showing off for HRB.

I stretch, I bend, I flex, I do the damn PLOW from Yoga. I smile, I chat, I pray I don't blow out a knee.

Finally, I say, "These girls are paying for this class, and I shouldn't take your class! Thanks for your time!!" and I popped a Vicodin...God love that pain pill. I had another 4 hours later, and one at 2AM and one the next morning.

But, as far as Hot Russian Boy (who checked out my legs) knows, I can beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeend like a willow in the wind... strettttttttttch like a cat after a nap..... reeeeeeeeach like a woman with PMS for chocolate on a top shelf.

And that, my friends, is what counts.

Keepin' Warm

New York is cold.

To beat the cold back in the Land o'Utes, I tend to have coffee in my down filled bed, while watching TCM. Here, I sleep on a mattress in the middle of the kitchen, next to the radiator, under a rainbow sleeping bag, in my thermal jammies, cursing under my breath that I am sure I can see some mornings.

Once the children are off, I am free to do what is most important in my life... finding coffee.

The local Greek Cafe is a few blocks away, and I can make the walk in around 90 seconds it seems... I exchange thermals for jeans, throw on my long black wool coat, a really ugly red and black checked hat and my long scarf... shoes and I'm briskly moving towards Nick's place, where they have the cup ready for me at 8.17AM.

I don't even brush my teeth... I mean, I'm behind a scarf, right? I may chat with Bruno (I met him yesterday, he lives around the corner next to the 18 member Muslim family on the corner) or Barbara (the Wiccan) who is pretending to teach her dog obedience.

Mostly, he lunges at the end of his harness, wagging his tail and trying to slobber on you. We talk about this and that, and they are keeping an eye out for a flat for me... it's how it's done, remember... someone you know.

Back here, I pour a bowl of nectar of the gods (aka Capt'n Crunch) and have my coffee while catching up on my reading... shower, teeth (FINALLY!) and the odds and ends of a small flat.

I listen to the iPod quite a bit... it helps to keep moving to stay warm. You see, the landlord is nice, but, he doesn't show us, as Aretha is telling me, any heating.....

R-E-S-P-E-C-T!!

Béni Neighborhood

This location has all the bases covered.

We sit in a group of Orthodox Russian Catholics, with a smattering of Hasidim in the 10 block area. CF is a faithful member of the LDS Church, one of my PM's (Personal Mormons) to whom I attached myself back in the early days... she introduced me to theater in all forms, and supports my love of writing, along with the other sisters of my heart that I've not driven mad yet...

Me? I'm a baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad Catholic, who doesn't attend Mass at any time, but, I DO make sure I use the various phrases when cursing,

"JESUSMARYANDJOSEPHANDALLTHESAINTSINHEAVEN!
WHATINGODSNAMEAREYOUDOINGCHILD?"
CHRISTONACRACKER!
HOLYMOTHEROFGOD
JESUSWEPT!!"
It's a learned thing, these phrases, right up there with genuflecting and The Lord's Prayer, without that extra tail of words the non Catholic Christians insist on using.

HF, the youngest of the brood, plays with EM next door.... best friends, they walk home from school...some days I pick them up.

So, in this holy neighborhood of Christians and Jews, I walk home the devout little Mormon girl and her friend, EM... whose parents are practicing Wiccans.

I LOVE THIS CITY!!!!

OMG! I AM a Cat Lady!

I learned to download photos to the mac... and I miss her. I have a short tape of her fetching, and haven't the foggiest idea how to transfer it to the mac... but, I'll figure it out!

Note the circles on her fur!

This and That

Back in the City.

It was a long, long haul... changing my flight in at the request of a friend, putting me here on Saturday instead of yesterday, which meant no lovely non stop flight, but, going West in order to fly East. To accomplish this goal, I was up at 4am, played rounds of 'fetch' with Sophie, repacked the case, made sure food and water was filled up, left a note for The Investment, and headed off in Norma.

Times like this, in the cold pre-dawn on a long open highway, I'm glad I drive a Benz... you feel safe.

Drive to the shuttle van to Vegas to the airline that flew me to San Francisco (I've always wanted to see it.... looked really nice from the airport windows) to another plane to another long haul to New York City... I was teary when I saw the lights outside my window.

The flight turned out to be great fun.... I kept thinking one of the attendants looked familiar... and, finally, he said, "Didn't you fly to Dulles last spring?". Indeed I had... with his co partners in flight crime (as it were)... so, I again stood in the back of the plane in the galley with S and the crew, chatting about books and films and S's ideas for books and how weight had gone up and down for some and what we'd all been doing.... another passenger asked, "How can you remember each other from one flight?" We looked at her as if to say, "How can't you?" I was tickled to see them again, we laughed and talked and stood there until the weather and the captain, whom I'm sure really made the announcement out of jealousy, sent me back to my seat. Email addresses were exchanged, we agreed to try and meet for drinks while I'm here, and that was that.

Going from JFK to CF's was tough... I'm used to being picked up or taking a train a different way, as I did the last two times I flew. It was convenient, and always good to see a friend. This time, it's the AirTran, struggling with the MTA's biggest scam, the AirTran's ticket, which you cannot buy with a bill larger than a tenspot because you cannot get more than $6 in change. Swiping a card means not a real swipe, but, putting it in and out of a little slot at the perfect speed...not too fast, not too slow... just right. I felt like Goldilocks, only with short hair and a foul mouth.

Ah, then, there is the 'A' train.... one of two trains travelers rely on to go to and from JFK. So, it runs when it wants to run. We were there 40 minutes.... again, I was fortunate, a great guy sat with me so I'd not be alone on the train... we chatted and laughed and he gave me his MTA map. At 4th and Borrough Hall, I had to switch to the F train. The F is called the F for a good reason... it's simply the most Fucked Up train I've ever ridden. People who get out of psych wards are given their meds and a pass to the F train when they get out. When you are paroled, you get a pass to the F. Or the Goddamn G train. The F on a weekend night....oh, dear.

It's 2am. I have my suitcase, my 'purse' and my laptop bag. Two stops before mine, a large man gets on the train car with me, doubling the riding population.... he's large, smelly and drunk. He lights a bent cigarette, leans towards me and says, "Yo gots some nice titties!!".

I had on a sweater and heavy coat.... I think he was remembering someone from long ago he had met OR it was a desperate move of flirtation.

I'm going with the first one.

He sat down, belched a couple of times, then threw up a little outside his mouth.... from there, he picked his nose.

My stop was there, I was off and laughing in relief.... it didn't bother me to drag my stuff down the wooden stairs of Avenue U to CF's house, with the two of us hugging and pleased and the older kids pulling my case of stairs that should never have passed inspection.

I sleep in the dining room on the floor on a nice mattress.... at least it's not the Titanic. The two cats show great interest in my stuff. I suddenly have a reader in Europe who also shows a great interest in my stuff, and it amuses me to no end. Funny how people hold themselves out to be womanly and tough, and what they really are tend to be controlling, toxic little girls... girls who think love is all about snooping, lying and showing no respect for anyone. I've found the more you announce what you are, the more you've no idea what it means.

I'm drifting here.

My life is going to be dance lessons with marvelous Russians who chatter with me after the girls are done, being able to cook again... huge meals for a family who loves my cooking... shopping on 86th Street again, seeing friends old and some I've met via the blog... and, and....

Going to my boys. That is best of all.

New York. It's my kind of town.

Ladies and Ladies

Quilts and Dogs.

Yesterday, I had a touch of the flu... I have a feeling I won't be eating chili verde for some time.... today, however, I felt a bit better, and went along with The Sisterwife to her Relief Society (a group of Mormon women in each Church area who do, well, relief work). I've done this before with other friends, I like it, to be honest. There is no dividing line of faith in helping others, and my hands and willingness to contribute time are as welcome as any ones.

We worked on quilts for those who are in hard times this year, and those people are many in our area as they are any where else. One thing I'll say for Utah, you do not see people wandering the streets in need. The LDS Church is so very wrong in so many of it's political beliefs (I will not go into religious beliefs) but, they do step up and help out to those in need. I know far too many who have been without food, housing, furniture, money...and one call allows them no payback but time to others in the same condition. I've canned, made up hygiene kits (basic toothbrush, soap, etc), put together dresses for refugee camps (I do not care where you live, who you are, every little girl in the world deserves a dress she can twirl in, something sweet in colours if her culture doesn't allow a twirl.... no matter how difficult life is, they should have something to smile about), made teddy bears... you get the idea. I've done it with these women who sit and talk and laugh and bring food for each other.

I was in charge of finishing off the edges, me and my trusty sewing machine. Ahhh, something you didn't know about me, I sew! I used to make HRH's dresses when she was a little one, and all of the FMDKids costumes for schools and everything else. So, I sewed my fingers off, The SisterWife tied off with yarn, we had quilt frames everywhere, kids dashing about, women's voices low over their work. Most of them do this all the time, and our work was going to a good cause. Our quilts would keep children and adults warm in this cold climate, these cold times. I know I keep my house at 50F with my door shut and a safe space heater so I am okay. I can sorta pay my heating.... again, I am in long sleeves and sweat pants and I'm cold at times.

We were giving help for people to keep going.

I left there, heading home, and stopped at the Animal Shelter, where my friend AH works... she's the, well, dog catcher in town. We met when the person who used to have her job killed our dog illegally, and her soft voiced question to me of "Would you like to speak to my Captain?" was met with my low shaking voice saying, "Well, unless his name is Jesus Fucking Christ, and he can raise the fucking dead, I'm not sure what good that's going to do me, do you??"

From that encounter, the former man was fired, a new law was passed and we obtained Douglass.

I also had a new friend.

She's on her last stretch on this job... five years of putting down dogs and cats when you love animals is too much. The usual stint on the job is two years. I said, "Let's go look at the animals!" and she said, "I can't go look at a group I have to put down tomorrow, I can't do it anymore.... I feed them with my eyes shut these days." She's doing her best to get a new job somewhere else, and the only thing that is easily obtainable is....animal control.

She and JB sat outside with me, they chain smoked and twitched, both women chatting away, good friends on the job, both flicking their eyes over at one dog in the outside pen they'd managed to save for a few months, but, her lease was up. She was this lanky lurcher, a dog that would be snapped up in the UK, ignored here.

"We'll flip to see who puts her down tomorrow." said JB. "It's come to that." Around that point, a woman pulled up with a box, inside a cat she'd found. With the woman inside filling out paperwork, the two flipped a coin to put down a cat to make room for this one.

I won't say which one it was... she was ashen when she came back. "We've both started Xanax and Lunesta." she said. " Come on, tell us about New York, act out the parts..."

And I did, making an ass of myself, exaggerating stories.... they laughed.

A call came in, a cop had shot a spaniel, who, he said, attacked him. "FUCK!" both said. "Fuck."

JB was off work by then, AH picked up keys, laid a tarp in the back of the truck.... "I hate the washing out of the truck later." We all did the hug and cheek kiss and drove our separate ways....

Warmth and death....

I don't have to tell you which one left a better feeling in my heart.




UPDATE:

From an email I received late last night... and please note, AH weighs around 135 lbs...

Well, the dead cocker spaniel ended up being a 200lb rotweiller and the owner was a hysterical drunk 300lb woman who at one time actually fainted in my arms.

It was a blood bath from start to finish. At some point I will have to act out for you the details that followed but let us suffice to say that

...I know how the Romans conquered the known world. Their war dogs (rots) CANNOT be breached by any weapon known to modern man let alone some poor celtic tribes tools 2,000yrs ago...I had to use my teeth at one point to try to tear a hole in the dogs skin BECAUSE WE'D ALREADY BROKEN EVERY BLADE AND SAW WE HAD AT THE SHELTER TRYING TO CUT THRU HIS SKIN. (he wasn't dead, and they had to insert an IV)

Three Word Wednesday~KIDS, DON'T READ THIS!!

Thom at Three Word Wednesday is making this difficult to be PG.

Our words? Blush, tender and quiver.... we should change the site name to Erotic R' Us.

What Lies Beneath

I usually pick at the tissue paper with my fingertips, breath held, teeth nibbling my lower lip, my entire body quivers until I see that first glimpse of colour folded against itself. I tend to stay with the same tones--black or cream-- love how the silk, in those hues, looks against the ivory of my skin, which is pale for a brunette.... my veins show through on my neck, my inner arms, my thighs, breasts... the silk accentuates this, making me feel delicate.

I have a ritual, lying the beautiful lingerie on my quilt, walking quietly around the room, admiring it, loving the idea it's already been hand laundered, ready for me to wear. As I pass, I touch where the silk will rest, blush.

Long bath, rose-scented salts, I let my hands glide over my skin once again, dream of his tenderness when he removes the delicate bits of silk in the next room. Where he removes my inhibitions, too - and leaves me open, willing and wanting from him all I need, all I can give.

I dry and in the coolness, goosebumps ripple as I lift the bra and slip it on, hook it, adjusting cups, straps and let fingertips drift over the front, feel the dainty lightness of the material. The tap short knickers follow, and settled on my hips, I feel very 30s, very perfect and inviting - whether he takes them off or not.

I stand - on the verge of going over the edge, flushed- brought here by the perfection of these overpriced bits of silk and hooks I have sent from France. I skimp elsewhere for the simple pleasure to open my drawer, see matched sets, scented by roses from my garden. Worked into complete sensual bliss by grazing my palm over the shirt or sweater I wear, feel the silk pressed against my skin, my hardened nipples. I am as content leaving these bits on, as I am when they are removed - and he knows this. Feeling them against his skin, as it slides against mine, makes me breathless. He knows this, and uses them as foreplay, a prelude to our lovemaking.

Skin warmed, I leave the house, head for Ralph's, simple chores, life - there is a pleasurable swing to my hips... beneath my jeans, my cotton sweater.... the $400 of silk undergarments... and resist temptation, the make the detour, slowly peel off my clothing in his office, a preview of things to come. I resist, maneuver the cart, an aimless smile on my lips.

It really is better to give than receive, right?

Storm

I am not a gadget person, I kill them with my magic powers.

I have the iPod, protected now with not one, but TWO cases and never held by me for longer than a second or two.

I just saw something that made me whimper in desire... moan in anticipation...wheeze in need.

This....The Blackberry Storm. They even give you a site to test drive it... like I'm going to do that. AHAHAHAHA! RTFM? ME?? *snicker*

A phone, you say? A PHONE???

Oh, not a phone, not a phone, but, a PHONE. A Blackberry, with a touch screen with bounceback buttons, a sleek case, lots of programs and shit that I have no idea how to work, 3G (whatever that is), the internet (I live on this... I am never bored anymore), a slidey screen thingy, buttons and pretty colours.

Oh, yes, it will be mine. I will kill it soon after I have it in my hands, however... you should see my sad new one. It doesn't look new.

It will... be mine.

A Tale of Two Films

Two films last night, two.

One, The Dutchess, doesn't deserve a link, the names of stars, photos, nuttin'. It was the longest two hours of my life. It made me weep. It made me moan. It made me complain. It made me eat too much chocolate and popcorn. It made me glare at Sisterwife a bunch.

Entire plot? Kirea Knightly close ups with damp eyes, wigs, lavish costumes, wine, BABY, Kira, wigs, costumes, wine BABY, rinse, repeat. One good line, "Please put out the fire in Her Grace's hair." One line. One.

I came home, worn out with my complaining.

There, on cable was a brilliant indie film, The Quiet... not a single bad moment in the entire film, not a single wasted line, frame of film, shot, amazingly wonderful score (how can you lose with Beethoven?) good plot, nice twists, harsh words (To Dot: "Oh, your mother was my best friend, and so beautiful. I only slept with one man, my husband. She was such a slut!") A girl who is deaf mute moves in with her godparents after her father dies... her mother died when she was seven. The family is not what it seems, things skitter in the dark, lies, betrayals, and Dot moves quietly, taking it all in... over it all, the perfection of Beethoven's piano sonatas play weaving the story together. Everyone uses Dot as a confessional, because she cannot hear their words, nor share them if she did... she's the perfect person to abuse.

Rent The Quiet. Run from The Dutchess.


BABY.

Three Word Wednesday~Hope, Gravity, Nuance

Read the Small Print

She sat, huddled and trembling on the exam table, paper gown grasped in her right hand... the left one absently rubbing a piece of hair in front of her ear.

So wrapped in thought, she startled when Dr. Silvers walked back in, reading her chart, professionally tanned face setting off his blue white teeth, his lab coat the exact same shade of Arctic ice. She'd liked him from the start, his office out in the 'burbs were in shades of warm peach, his staff that didn't look like the usual plastic surgery staffs, all pictureperfect, but, normal woman who made you feel it was okay to look the way you did, and okay to want to change...he believed in hiring his family as staff, and, he did his operations in his little suite of rooms in the back. All of those little things helped keep his prices affordable, he told her.

"Lila, if you'll just stand, I can show you what is going to happen today." he said, holding out his rather freakishly soft hand to her nail bitten one.

Barely touching her gown, he pulled it aside, gazing at what gravity and a 220 lb weight loss had done to her breasts, her stomach, her arms, thighs, bottom. She thought here was a quick intake of breath, a look of, "This is what makes the Baby Jesus cry." ....more a nuance that an actual look. She had to be wrong. The only expressions he'd ever shown before was his usual, well, smile or a furrowing of his brow... at least she thought that's what he was doing, the Botox did remove the actual furrowing capability...the expression he'd worn when she told him of her life as a heavy woman. He had never seen her naked before, said there was no need, simply quoted her a flat fee based on the work he said she'd want done to perfect her body, remove all that was left hanging around (here he gave a kind of a giggle) after the two years of dieting.

He worked quickly, his black pen drawing circles and arrows...sometimes pulling out the drooping flesh to make notes. Scribbling on the chart in code, muttering, taking digital photos and finally announcing, "Okay! When we are done today, you'll have a tummy tuck, lipo on your outer thighs and hips, we'll take excess skin from your upper arms and inner thighs, a 'butt' lift, remove those chins, pull your face up, do an upper and lower eye lift, take some fat from your butt and put it in your lips. I'll make those 44 Longs into nice tight 36D's (again with the giggle), reduce your waist, do a few hair plugs, fix your nose and pin down that one ear. A little Botox here and there, and I'll whiten your teeth for free! Piece O'Cake! Any questions, Miss Turner?"

She whispered no, not wanting the tears to fall, grabbing the gown together again, and thought ahead, to how she'd look, how this would change her life... the sacrifices made, the money saved, the years and years of diets, ridicule, believing one day... one day. Her un-Botox'd face was a smile, at him, at life, a huge smile, full of hope.

In all of her prep work, all of the saving, the double jobs, the reading about the long recovery, the pain... the one thing she didn't do was check state laws, which stated anyone who had an MD could obtain a license for plastic surgery without doing a residency. So it was, the last thoughts she'd have were why the medical diplomas for her doctor, hanging on the walls she was wheeled past on her way to the tiny, cramped back operating room, were for Podiatry.

I Have Asperger's...Are You Sure 6 Is Enough??

I swore I'd not do meme's, and I've kept that... still, I like Vinny, so...

1. Link to the person that tagged you
2. Post the rules on your blog
3. Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself
4. Tag six random people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs
5. Let each random person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their website



1. I can tear a phone book in half.
2. I once threatened to stab an actor in the eye with a sharp pencil, then denied it to his agent.
3. My Confirmation name is Rita. Yeah.
4. I watch the Sci-Fi channel quite a bit.
5. Sometimes, when I start laughing, I can't stop, especially when my boys egg me on.
6. I demonstrated and sold dulcimers at one time.


I'm not going to tag anyone, sorry!

We Resume Our Regularly Scheduled Postings....

Apologies.

There are times we face a bigass black hole, and we have to withdraw to deal with it... I'm pretty much the little engine that could, but, this last glitch along with those that have come along over the last few years, well... this little engine ran out of steam.

I'm back on track, grateful for all who believed in me when I forgot to believe in me.


Thanks, as always.

I'm Crazy About Myself~Sunday Scribblings

The prompt this week is to brag about yourself.

This is far beyond anything I can do comfortably. You can blog or journal to your heart's content...and lord knows I do...but, to sit and write about myself, about things I find worth bragging about, well... ain't gonna happen. I only hope I never have to write my own obituary. It would be: She was born a poor whi... wait, wrong story.

She was born. She lived. She had children. She died.

The upside is, it won't cost my kids that much to have it printed. It's all about them, sometimes.

If I had to point out one thing out there, as my, what? legacy? it would be my children.

I've written about the FMDKids more than once, I'm not going to bore anyone now with even more motherlike praises, and, I guess I'm like my MawMa, don't brag about anything, so that God won't notice and take it away.

It remains, however, that my kids are a delight to me. Each of them would lay down their life for a sibling. They step up with cash, muscle, housing, and advice (even when it's not wanted!) for each other. They walk... touching each other. They text and call each other. They are each other's best friend.

Spouses and significant other's are welcomed with open arms. They will love you and treat you with respect and make you part of their tight clique. Mess with your chosen partner, however, and it would be a good idea to move and change your name... maybe go into witness protection.


I grew up with one sibling who was held out to be perfection. Even now, when he's robbed family and friends to the tune of half a million dollars, walking away scott free, even when he's cursed and threatened my mother, myself... he remains the Golden Child, with excuses made.
I knew that was one thing I'd never do, never make one child more important than the other. Of course, when HRH came into our lives, early, ill, tiny... she became the princess of the group. They fought to hold her, cuddle her... she never slept alone. Even at 6 months, I'd get up and find Miss H had removed her from the crib, and put her against the wall, so they could sleep together.

They are moral, ethical, funny, loyal, monogamous, respectful, well mannered, amazingly intelligent, talented people.

I was part of their lives, so, I'll put that down as what I'm crazy about with myself... that I'm part of their lives, that they open up and let me in the group (mostly to pick on, if I'm honest).

Yeah, their little group is a good thing to be proud of, in my opinion.




(Miss H isn't in the photo...she was busy being pregnant at the time)

Jarhead, HRH, TheInvestment,Zenmaster

Six Sentences

So.

There is something up on good ole' six sentences that I penned.

Feel free to critique it there... words are always appreciated.

At Least It's Not On YouTube

The i-Pod, it's wonderful, it's amazing, it makes you forget not everyone hears the music.

I've enjoyed my new i-Pod... especially since it was free. The Brother gave me his busted one, telling me I could keep it, and get it fixed if I wanted to do so... He didn't tell me it was dead when he first offered it, you see. I'd told him of my sad loss of my little red Nano the kids had given me before I left for New York, with "As long as we're living, our Mommy you'll be" on the back. I'd walk down the street, walking the dogs, rubbing my thumb over the engraving...

Since I touched it so much, it was struck with Quinitis... a nice way of saying I fried the insides, as I tend to do with electronic equipment. The AppleTech kept shaking his head over the poor thing. Now, I wanted another red one with engraving, so, I had to return the Nano rather than just take one from the store. Walking to the train the next day, there in my 'hood in the Bronx, the box marked APPLE on top of my laptop case, some guy ran past, grabbing the box and continuing on his morning jog.

I said, sotto voce, to him, "Hey, Jack, it's fried!".

So, I was out a Nano, he had a great box.

Therefore, The Brother offered to give me his extra one, gratis, here you go, Sis! Then, he broke the news it was dead.

Long story short, the nice folks at Apple gave me a brand new one, after we'd chatted a bit, told some jokes, exchanged email addresses.

When I did my first download off The Brother's desktop, I had 1066 songs on the little player.... so, I named it Hastings.

Think about it.

I have a gazillion songs... in every genre, just the way I like it. I use it more and more, enjoying the sounds coming from the great headset... just enjoying life, you know?

I also have a part time job, through Halloween, working for a friend's costume shop... she rents everything, and a large part of our inventory are period dresses. She hires me because I'm honest, I am good at putting costumes together, and I know the different periods, so, I won't give you Renaissance when you wanted Elizabethan.

Fast forward... and here is my day, in the method of that little commercial:

Rental for period costumes-$35
Hourly pay for friend-$10
Not telling your friend you are sending costumers over, so, they walk in while she's sorting dresses, iPod in place, dancing and singing along in full voice with ZZ Top's Black Betty.

Yeah.



No YouTube of ZZ...so, here's Lynyrd Skynyrd. Tell me you wouldn't be moving starting with that first guitar riff...