It's been a few day! So much for being a daily blogger. :)
Thousands and thousands.
Sweat, glitter, lipstick, more sweat,
and nothin' but love!
Pride Parade was, once again, such a life-affirming experience. I'm so proud to share this day every year with my baby girl. Pictures to come, I promise...
The contingency of churches who show up to march on the side of love always choke me up a little. It's just a beautiful sight. As do the military veterans (some of them disabled from war, yet would not have been deemed worthy to serve in the first place had they asked and told!). The PFLAG group (parents and friends, supporting their GLBTQ loved ones). The overwhelming feeling of love that is poured out among thousands of total strangers is unparallelled.
Every year, once we stake our claim on a spot along the parade route, we become insta-family with the people standing near us (okay, near is not quite the word...it's VERY crowded, and there is much forced intimacy and sweat-sharing). They become Kadi-guardians. Seriously, people ALWAYS end up looking out for my daughter! They catch beads for her, put them on her, make sure she has a prime spot for short people, catch and fill her bag with candy, make sure she's sun-screened, and hydrated. They even screen the things being thrown and confiscate the condoms, lube pouches, and I love cock buttons BEFORE they get to my baby. :) Seriously. Not one thing she shouldn't be exposed to gets by these people. Every year.
I cannot truly convey the beauty that is my yearly pilgrimage to BoysTown, Chicago. I just know that it's one of the most important things I do for myself, for my daughter, and for the spreading of love in my community.
So happy today. Really, really, just very happy. :)
Monday, June 29, 2009
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
GODDESS
In a sacred place of honor
in the temple that is my home
stands a gleaming, powerful image of
The Venus of Willendorf,
proud and naked,
her unbound breasts resting on her
fully rotund belly, blissful and heavy
with the ripeness of all life
and the sweet milk that sustains it,
having no apologies to make for the
fat fullness of her thighs,
grown strong and proud from the
carrying of this wide expanse of hips,
and a rump the roundness of which
has enchanted poets and priests
since before time.
The Wise Goddess-Child
who is my daughter
calls this image The Mommy Doll,
and she has no interest in the notion
that maybe this lush feminine form
was not fashioned to look like me.
How, then, can I face this child
and not stand tall and BE A GODDESS
and in whatever size I am
be content?
I do not need
I do not need
minimizing panels in my panties
and wires in by bra
to be divine and full of beauty.
Full of beauty.
Not starving.
Not starving for affection, approval,
appreciation, confirmation,
conformity, or anonymity.
But fully at home in the body of
this woman
who takes up her share of space
without saying I'm sorry,
and still leaves room enough in the world for
you.
So, to you,
and to me,
and to the Wise Goddess-Child who is my daughter,
I say,
fearlessly and wonderously are we made
in the image of
She Who is Most Holy,
and the
blasphemy
of body hatred
has no place
in this temple.
From Sarah, with love,
The idea of peace in the Middle-east is never far from my heart.
I was inspired to write this letter after hearing about a group of Christian, Muslim, and Jewish mothers who have formed a close-knit spiritual study group in Chicago. It intrigues me to wonder how different history might have been, had the wives and mothers had more say in the direction of their lives, and the lives of their children...
My Dear Hagar,
I hate it here since you’ve been gone. I ache from missing you. I worry every second, and I pray to the Goddess that you are safe. And Ishmael! Oh, my heart hurts to think of how confusing this must be for him. Isaac and I both miss him so much! Please give him our love.
Oh, hell, I’ve even been praying to Jehovah, in case Abraham’s god turns out to be the only true god, like all the men think. *sigh* Now I have no one with whom to whisper such heresies and laugh.
Do you know that, for the record, Abraham is claiming that he was 100 and I was 90 when you and I became pregnant? No, I am not kidding! This desert wind and sun has not been kind to anyone’s skin, but...90?? Please. I can’t possibly look a day over 70, right? Ah, well. It’s a good thing Isaac did come along when he did. I’m beginning to feel the changes of Crone-hood in my body. Maybe that makes me 45? 50? Hard to tell. All the seasons blend so seamlessly here and one month is just like the last.
We do all miss having your youthful beauty around the place (Abraham can’t bring himself to say it, but I see the sadness in his eyes).
Poor Abraham. Maybe he really does feel more than a century old. I’d hate to think he’s lying on purpose. Jehovah would definitely not approve.
If I had a place to go, Hagar, I would leave. He tries to be a good man, but do you know that, in the name of his God, he mutilated my son’s manhood, and he quite nearly sacrificed him on an altar of prayer!?
I do think he’s gone a little crazy with fear of this ’god’. I never sleep more than a few feet from my son anymore, and never without a dagger under my pillow. It’s no way to live. But, I know in my heart that he’s not a bad man, just fearful.
It’s just that my fears are of him, and that makes sense. Fear of some omni-present, omni-powerful, beastly god who demands death and dismemberment of our children? That, I cannot fathom.
Anyway, my dear, the day he sent you away was the worst day of my life, but likely the best possible thing for you.
He tells people it was because of my jealousy, instead of his own. He says I envied his relationship with you, because he cannot bear to tell the truth that you and I loved each other at the expense of his ego. His pride will not allow that. He cannot ever say aloud that the deep love between women is a thing more powerful than anything he’s experienced, except for his fear of god, and that he had no idea how to behave in the presence of such joy and freedom. It terrified him!
I do feel sorry for him. Don’t hate him, Hagar. He is the best leader he knows how to be.
I pray that you have found a community that loves you for your unique gifts. I pray the same for Ishmael.
May the future find us together again, somehow, watching our boys continue to grow in love and brotherhood to be the kind of men we both wish their father had the freedom to be.
Who knows...maybe the prophecy that Abraham will be the ’Father of Nations’ has come true in our boys! Here’s a prayer to The Divine Mother that they come back together in the peace and love for which their earthly mothers ache. I want us to be sharing grandkid- and great-grandkid duties when we are truly 90 or 100!
I love you forever!
Sarah
I was inspired to write this letter after hearing about a group of Christian, Muslim, and Jewish mothers who have formed a close-knit spiritual study group in Chicago. It intrigues me to wonder how different history might have been, had the wives and mothers had more say in the direction of their lives, and the lives of their children...
My Dear Hagar,
I hate it here since you’ve been gone. I ache from missing you. I worry every second, and I pray to the Goddess that you are safe. And Ishmael! Oh, my heart hurts to think of how confusing this must be for him. Isaac and I both miss him so much! Please give him our love.
Oh, hell, I’ve even been praying to Jehovah, in case Abraham’s god turns out to be the only true god, like all the men think. *sigh* Now I have no one with whom to whisper such heresies and laugh.
Do you know that, for the record, Abraham is claiming that he was 100 and I was 90 when you and I became pregnant? No, I am not kidding! This desert wind and sun has not been kind to anyone’s skin, but...90?? Please. I can’t possibly look a day over 70, right? Ah, well. It’s a good thing Isaac did come along when he did. I’m beginning to feel the changes of Crone-hood in my body. Maybe that makes me 45? 50? Hard to tell. All the seasons blend so seamlessly here and one month is just like the last.
We do all miss having your youthful beauty around the place (Abraham can’t bring himself to say it, but I see the sadness in his eyes).
Poor Abraham. Maybe he really does feel more than a century old. I’d hate to think he’s lying on purpose. Jehovah would definitely not approve.
If I had a place to go, Hagar, I would leave. He tries to be a good man, but do you know that, in the name of his God, he mutilated my son’s manhood, and he quite nearly sacrificed him on an altar of prayer!?
I do think he’s gone a little crazy with fear of this ’god’. I never sleep more than a few feet from my son anymore, and never without a dagger under my pillow. It’s no way to live. But, I know in my heart that he’s not a bad man, just fearful.
It’s just that my fears are of him, and that makes sense. Fear of some omni-present, omni-powerful, beastly god who demands death and dismemberment of our children? That, I cannot fathom.
Anyway, my dear, the day he sent you away was the worst day of my life, but likely the best possible thing for you.
He tells people it was because of my jealousy, instead of his own. He says I envied his relationship with you, because he cannot bear to tell the truth that you and I loved each other at the expense of his ego. His pride will not allow that. He cannot ever say aloud that the deep love between women is a thing more powerful than anything he’s experienced, except for his fear of god, and that he had no idea how to behave in the presence of such joy and freedom. It terrified him!
I do feel sorry for him. Don’t hate him, Hagar. He is the best leader he knows how to be.
I pray that you have found a community that loves you for your unique gifts. I pray the same for Ishmael.
May the future find us together again, somehow, watching our boys continue to grow in love and brotherhood to be the kind of men we both wish their father had the freedom to be.
Who knows...maybe the prophecy that Abraham will be the ’Father of Nations’ has come true in our boys! Here’s a prayer to The Divine Mother that they come back together in the peace and love for which their earthly mothers ache. I want us to be sharing grandkid- and great-grandkid duties when we are truly 90 or 100!
I love you forever!
Sarah
and he dosnt soport gay peopel!
Another flashback I feel like sharing:
Thursday, August 07, 2008
Last night while I was packing, Kadison was playing quietly in her room, supposedly helping pack a few art supplies... I don't even remember her going outside (alarming, I know...but this is not a story of fear or alarm, so disregard that...it's a safe neighborhood, and she has great lungs and even better judgement).
Anyway...I went outside this morning to leave for work, and there was the HUGE round head of Barack Obama taped to the inside of the back window. She'd cut it out from Time Magazine, and put it in the car as a subtle voting suggestion for our fellow motorists. Along with it was a hand-written sign on Easter-yellow paper that read : "Prezidint Bush lide about the war and he dosnt soport gay peopel!"
I know she's suggestable at seven, and if I'd been a Republican (:::::shudder:::::), there'd probably be a McCain head flapping in my car right now.
But, honestly...she's just so freaking smart, that I'm not even sure that would be true. This is a kid with a really good head on her shoulders. And a really big round cheesing Obama head behind her carseat.
Thursday, August 07, 2008
Last night while I was packing, Kadison was playing quietly in her room, supposedly helping pack a few art supplies... I don't even remember her going outside (alarming, I know...but this is not a story of fear or alarm, so disregard that...it's a safe neighborhood, and she has great lungs and even better judgement).
Anyway...I went outside this morning to leave for work, and there was the HUGE round head of Barack Obama taped to the inside of the back window. She'd cut it out from Time Magazine, and put it in the car as a subtle voting suggestion for our fellow motorists. Along with it was a hand-written sign on Easter-yellow paper that read : "Prezidint Bush lide about the war and he dosnt soport gay peopel!"
I know she's suggestable at seven, and if I'd been a Republican (:::::shudder:::::), there'd probably be a McCain head flapping in my car right now.
But, honestly...she's just so freaking smart, that I'm not even sure that would be true. This is a kid with a really good head on her shoulders. And a really big round cheesing Obama head behind her carseat.
My name on a grain of rice
Once, at a theme park in the Ozarks, a man painted my name on a grain of rice and stuck it inside blown glass and put it on a chain.
I never wore it because the god of my youth frowned upon physical adornments.
It didn't matter, because I wouldn't have worn it anyway.
I was sad at the insignificance of my name on something that could easily fall into a crack in the asphalt and never be noticed.
It seemed very metaphorical and deep to my angst-y fourteen-year-old self, so full of self-doubt and questions...
I found that rice while I was looking through boxes to get rid of this morning.
I didn't even know I had kept it all these years.
I sat with it for a very long time, remembering that lonely scared girl.
Those old feelings of insignificance are sometimes just as real, and always just as much an illusion as ever.
I wonder about the man who chose to learn how to paint on rice, when he could have chosen murals.
I wonder if we all sometimes feel like our contributions are miniscule, or that they should be, so as to not take up too much space and have to say 'pardon me' to someone more worthy of the space in which we are standing.
Knowing how sad and small those thoughts can make someone feel, I want to look the people I love in the eye and tell them that they matter.
I want someone to tell me the same thing.
Most importantly, I want to look in the mirror and say it with a straight face.
I never wore it because the god of my youth frowned upon physical adornments.
It didn't matter, because I wouldn't have worn it anyway.
I was sad at the insignificance of my name on something that could easily fall into a crack in the asphalt and never be noticed.
It seemed very metaphorical and deep to my angst-y fourteen-year-old self, so full of self-doubt and questions...
I found that rice while I was looking through boxes to get rid of this morning.
I didn't even know I had kept it all these years.
I sat with it for a very long time, remembering that lonely scared girl.
Those old feelings of insignificance are sometimes just as real, and always just as much an illusion as ever.
I wonder about the man who chose to learn how to paint on rice, when he could have chosen murals.
I wonder if we all sometimes feel like our contributions are miniscule, or that they should be, so as to not take up too much space and have to say 'pardon me' to someone more worthy of the space in which we are standing.
Knowing how sad and small those thoughts can make someone feel, I want to look the people I love in the eye and tell them that they matter.
I want someone to tell me the same thing.
Most importantly, I want to look in the mirror and say it with a straight face.
Old blogs are useful tools of encouragement!
I'm only reposting this one because the massage school as 'wishful thinking' reference makes me smile. It also encourages me to keep talking about my dreams...they tend to put on skin that way! :)
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Stuff I might be getting ready to do with my evening alone:
I might just crawl into bed and sleep starting in a little while...
I (really!) might go to the fitness center and treadmill my ass for a mile...
I might write a zillion blogs, and keep writing all night long...
I might get distracted by some good free porn, and bust out my synthetic dong...
I might read my new Reader's Digest, although Rebecca says it's run by the Mormons...
I might see what TiVo saved of Oprah and Suze Orman...
I might organize Kadison's closet and take some stuff to the GoodWill box...
I might get dressed and go to WalMart, because I need winter socks...
I might redo my nail polish, and pluck stray body hairs...
I might get out the Resolve and get those weird spots off the stairs (okay, probably not)...
I might shrivel my fingers and toes in a long hot bubble bath...
I might feel guilty that Kadison is away, and I'm not helping her with her math...
Speaking of guilt, I might spend some more time thinking of how to be a better girlfriend...
I might say something really poetic right now, since the only ryhme I can come up with is 'whirlwind' (which was a stretch, anyway)...
I might look up massage school websites and do some wishful thinking...
I might feed Toady and Venus, to keep them from death and stinking...
I might eat too much ice cream straight out of the carton...
I might...okay, I refuse to dishonor myself with what I was just about to type about ice cream and fartin'...
I might answer some way overdue emails to people I really miss...
I might look up some recipes, since I cook now, in my new-found domestic bliss...
I might try to figure out how to download pictures from my new phone...
I might just sit and do NOTHING but revel in being alone...
I might experiment with my new curls, since I no longer get mistaken for a dyke...
I might bruise my ass and hoo hoo by taking a ride on my bike...
Speaking of bike, I might do something to celebrate the gorgeous night...
I might admire my fading flip flop tan lines, as I quickly morph back to white...
I might wish I could end this wittily and neatly, but I'm not sure how...
And it's my night to do whatever the hell I want, so I'm just stopping now...
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Stuff I might be getting ready to do with my evening alone:
I might just crawl into bed and sleep starting in a little while...
I (really!) might go to the fitness center and treadmill my ass for a mile...
I might write a zillion blogs, and keep writing all night long...
I might get distracted by some good free porn, and bust out my synthetic dong...
I might read my new Reader's Digest, although Rebecca says it's run by the Mormons...
I might see what TiVo saved of Oprah and Suze Orman...
I might organize Kadison's closet and take some stuff to the GoodWill box...
I might get dressed and go to WalMart, because I need winter socks...
I might redo my nail polish, and pluck stray body hairs...
I might get out the Resolve and get those weird spots off the stairs (okay, probably not)...
I might shrivel my fingers and toes in a long hot bubble bath...
I might feel guilty that Kadison is away, and I'm not helping her with her math...
Speaking of guilt, I might spend some more time thinking of how to be a better girlfriend...
I might say something really poetic right now, since the only ryhme I can come up with is 'whirlwind' (which was a stretch, anyway)...
I might look up massage school websites and do some wishful thinking...
I might feed Toady and Venus, to keep them from death and stinking...
I might eat too much ice cream straight out of the carton...
I might...okay, I refuse to dishonor myself with what I was just about to type about ice cream and fartin'...
I might answer some way overdue emails to people I really miss...
I might look up some recipes, since I cook now, in my new-found domestic bliss...
I might try to figure out how to download pictures from my new phone...
I might just sit and do NOTHING but revel in being alone...
I might experiment with my new curls, since I no longer get mistaken for a dyke...
I might bruise my ass and hoo hoo by taking a ride on my bike...
Speaking of bike, I might do something to celebrate the gorgeous night...
I might admire my fading flip flop tan lines, as I quickly morph back to white...
I might wish I could end this wittily and neatly, but I'm not sure how...
And it's my night to do whatever the hell I want, so I'm just stopping now...
Monday, June 22, 2009
Summer sleevelessness dilemma
At a sink, in the Wal-Mart bathroom:
Small boy, maybe 4-ish, with shoulder-length, traffic-cone-orange dreadlocks: "Why are your arms all wobbly?"
Disembodied voice from inside stall: "JADEN! Get over here!"
Me: "Because I have a lot of fat on my body. Plus a lot of extra skin from when I had even more fat."
Disembodied VFIS: "I'm warning you, Jaden..."
[Long pause, staring]
Jaden: "Do you have extra wobbly skin like that all over the place?"
DVFIS: "JA-DEN MICH-AEL!!!"
Me: "Yeah, I do."
[Longer pause, with unblinking staring]
Jaden: "You should really use all that extra skin to try to get taller."
DVFIS: "Lawd ham mercy, I ain't never comin' outta here."
Small boy, maybe 4-ish, with shoulder-length, traffic-cone-orange dreadlocks: "Why are your arms all wobbly?"
Disembodied voice from inside stall: "JADEN! Get over here!"
Me: "Because I have a lot of fat on my body. Plus a lot of extra skin from when I had even more fat."
Disembodied VFIS: "I'm warning you, Jaden..."
[Long pause, staring]
Jaden: "Do you have extra wobbly skin like that all over the place?"
DVFIS: "JA-DEN MICH-AEL!!!"
Me: "Yeah, I do."
[Longer pause, with unblinking staring]
Jaden: "You should really use all that extra skin to try to get taller."
DVFIS: "Lawd ham mercy, I ain't never comin' outta here."
Friday, June 19, 2009
'Ku for now :)
A few haiku(s) for the morning:
Impossible to
remain invulnerable
while open to love
Being open to
the possibility of
betrayal...is love
SlimFast for breakfast.
In Africa, they love fat
chicks. I'm moving there.
Impossible to
remain invulnerable
while open to love
Being open to
the possibility of
betrayal...is love
SlimFast for breakfast.
In Africa, they love fat
chicks. I'm moving there.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Slacker blogger...making up for it
Still believing that
gratitude always precedes
the miraculous
If the only prayer
I ever pray is thank you,
that will be enough
Reverence for this
matters more than my belief
today about God
Haven't been here in a few days! This every-day commitment isn't turning out to be so simple, some days. Kinda like those commitments to find the point of gratitude in all things...and put only into my body proper fuel...and to move my body every day with joyful intent...
Yeah, impressive words. :) I'm good at talking the talk.
I'm re-committing today, once again. I'll have to do it a million times in the future!
I'm re-committing to gratitude, most of all.
Re-committing to using the SoFar process where food and movement are concerned. S.O.F.A.R. Stop. Observe. Forgive. Accept. Re-commit.
So far...so good. And, just for today...I am SO very thankful! :)
gratitude always precedes
the miraculous
If the only prayer
I ever pray is thank you,
that will be enough
Reverence for this
matters more than my belief
today about God
Haven't been here in a few days! This every-day commitment isn't turning out to be so simple, some days. Kinda like those commitments to find the point of gratitude in all things...and put only into my body proper fuel...and to move my body every day with joyful intent...
Yeah, impressive words. :) I'm good at talking the talk.
I'm re-committing today, once again. I'll have to do it a million times in the future!
I'm re-committing to gratitude, most of all.
Re-committing to using the SoFar process where food and movement are concerned. S.O.F.A.R. Stop. Observe. Forgive. Accept. Re-commit.
So far...so good. And, just for today...I am SO very thankful! :)
I've been thinking a lot about Boston this week. The city, not the band. I'm usually packing up to go there about this time in June. I chaperone a coming-of-age youth group trip for my awesome church there every other year (heh heh... Only those nutty Unitarian Universalists would trust me with their chil'ren for a whole week!). This year, I'm getting a little nostalgic, since we've postponed the trip to NEXT June.
Ah, the memory of how painful it was to walk last time! This weight journey is intriguing. SoFar. Thankful. :)
Here's my old blog from the first day of te trip 2 years ago:
Saturday, June 16, 2007
This week I'll be pahking my cah in the Hahvahd yahd.
It's 4:45AM, and I'm getting ready to leave for O'Hare, to catch a flight to Boston. I miss my baby already. A week is too long. I'm starting to get a little excited. Having done this Boston-trip-chaperoning gig two years ago, I know I will have a wonderful time. But a part of me is still very reluctant. Ah, Motherguilt. Last night, my baby and I discussed the fact that this Boston trip is one SHE wil eventually make herself when she's entering 9th grade, but it will be without me. That one of the points of this 'coming-of-age' adventure is taking a big trip with no parent along, and being responsible for your own behavior and decisions. She said, "I already know how to be responsible and make good decisions, so it won't matter if they let you come along anyway. I'll talk to the manager about making an exception". I explained that when she is the age of the kids taking this trip, she will probably not want me to come along. She said, "Well, you already embarrass the hell out of me, but I've learned to deal with it, so why would that change?" My child. The 6 year old teenage philosopher. So, anyway...I'll be going to the beach (by the way...from the looks of the CraigsList site, those Boston boys dig the BBWs...Not that I'll have time to sample them, but I needed to arm myself with that information to psyche myself up for wearing a bathing suit), Salem (yay! Pagan Mecca!), every day walking by Fenway Park (snore), climbing the Bunker Hill Monument (oh, my legs are already having PTSD pains from the memory and anticipation of that), Harvard campus walk-through (why, I do not know, but I'm sure we'll go there). So, what can I bring you home? Ben Affleck is already spoken for.
Monday, June 15, 2009
For my wonderful little family
A few of Today's haiku
They just don't sleep well
when you're gone; our scared, confused,
restless, sad, smart cats.
Girl-time in the big
bed. Hope she didn't notice
how much I missed you.
Wow. Her sheet-hogging
reminds me so much of you,
I'm over it now.
Her waking smile says
she loved this. Still, she whispers,
"When's Pete coming home?"
They just don't sleep well
when you're gone; our scared, confused,
restless, sad, smart cats.
Girl-time in the big
bed. Hope she didn't notice
how much I missed you.
Wow. Her sheet-hogging
reminds me so much of you,
I'm over it now.
Her waking smile says
she loved this. Still, she whispers,
"When's Pete coming home?"
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Random. Thankful. Blessed.
White-brown patterned feet;
summer sandal tan lines, dirt,
and sacred childhood.
Today, a birthday party full of 8 year olds at a bowling alley, a long drive to a wake for one of Pete's aunts, and a loooong drive back home before school tomorrow.
Let me begin by setting my intention that the driving time will be for silliness, talking, loud singing, and not one single second of frustration and impatience. No excuses. So may it be. :)
I just re-read my MySpace blog from 2 years ago, and got a little nostalgic for my (brief) roller derby days. The last two sentences of the entry make me smile, in retrospect. Here it is:
Thursday, June 14, 2007
More rink fever
Current mood: less freaked out than I could be
Take it out on the rink. That's the prevailing thought that got me through the day. Isn't that obnoxious? Three weeks of this roller derby thing, and I'm already thinking jock thoughts. I used to take my stress out on innocent bags of M&Ms, and on my family. Now, I can't wait to lace up and get my ass moving on a roller rink. Oh, my goodness. I would have never believed it. I only fell once tonight, and I was skating for almost the whole two hours. I could whine about the soreness, but, the truth is...it's not so bad. My ONE fall (did I mention I only fell once?) was backwards onto my ass, and anyone who's ever seen me knows that my ass is a pretty safe place to land, what with all the built-in padding, and all. So, it's all good tonight. But, I could still use a massage. Oh, and a place to live.
summer sandal tan lines, dirt,
and sacred childhood.
Today, a birthday party full of 8 year olds at a bowling alley, a long drive to a wake for one of Pete's aunts, and a loooong drive back home before school tomorrow.
Let me begin by setting my intention that the driving time will be for silliness, talking, loud singing, and not one single second of frustration and impatience. No excuses. So may it be. :)
I just re-read my MySpace blog from 2 years ago, and got a little nostalgic for my (brief) roller derby days. The last two sentences of the entry make me smile, in retrospect. Here it is:
Thursday, June 14, 2007
More rink fever
Current mood: less freaked out than I could be
Take it out on the rink. That's the prevailing thought that got me through the day. Isn't that obnoxious? Three weeks of this roller derby thing, and I'm already thinking jock thoughts. I used to take my stress out on innocent bags of M&Ms, and on my family. Now, I can't wait to lace up and get my ass moving on a roller rink. Oh, my goodness. I would have never believed it. I only fell once tonight, and I was skating for almost the whole two hours. I could whine about the soreness, but, the truth is...it's not so bad. My ONE fall (did I mention I only fell once?) was backwards onto my ass, and anyone who's ever seen me knows that my ass is a pretty safe place to land, what with all the built-in padding, and all. So, it's all good tonight. But, I could still use a massage. Oh, and a place to live.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Friday, June 12, 2009
Ugly waffles taste just like pretty ones
If waffle maker
mishap is indicative,
I should just stay home.
Good morning!
Well, sorta.
Okay, so let's just get this out of the way: My gripe of the day is that I'm conflicted about my desire to vent, and my knowledge that I have it pretty darn good and should probably just shut the hell up with the whining before I even start.
I'm sitting here in my temperature-controlled home in a safe neighborhood, with my fat butt and full stomach, a healthy kid, a wonderful man, and a whole lot of other 'things' I don't need or deserve. I'm considering what any given Iraqi, Somali, or Palestinian mother might have to say about my complaints, and, it ain't pretty. The biggest point of contention in my family is that our plenty-of-room home isn't really big enough anymore, because we just plain old have too much stuff.
Seriously? I just got all poetic up there about the fact that my WAFFLE MAKER puked doughy white goo on my counter. Tragic! How can you blame me? What woman on the planet ever lived happily ever after without a properly-functioning waffle maker?!?
While I'm at it, let me also say that I frightened a poor dental receptionist this morning who called to reschedule an appointment. The truth is, I didn't want to go anyway. Did I tell her that? No...I told her what I thought about doctors cancelling at the last minute, and how I think my next office visit should be free. Granted, I don't think I was rude, and I stand by my convictions on this issue...but still. I could have just let it go. As far as I can tell, the world is still turning, and I'm eating a not-so-terrible-after-all waffle instead of getting my spit suctioned into a creepy loud tube-thingy right now.
So, I'm going to go do a Pilates workout with my kid (after My Life as a Teenage Robot is over...priorities!), adjust my baditude, and have a wonderful Friday.
I hope YOURS is wonderful, too! :)
Here's an old MySpace blog that inspires me to focus on having a memorable summer! :)
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Cicada Safari! Current mood:Indescribable
Tonight, my daughter and I went on a Super Seventeen Summer Cicada Safari. It was amazing. I'm talking about the 17-year-cycle cicadas, which will not come above ground again until Kadison is 23 years old. This was a very important adventure. We drove out to Rock Cut State Park, where I had heard there are thousands of them. We weren't sure exactly where to look, so we drove around, windows down, radio off...and followed the sound. Oh, the sound! It was amazing. Not shrill and deafening, like the sound some other cicada relatives make every summer evening in some areas of town. Nope. These horny bug-men are GOOD at the mating song. It was absolutely beautiful. Really. It made me cry. It is such a soothing, medatative, melodic hum. What an amazing treat for all the people camping out there tonight. If only I'd planned ahead, we may have done that this weekend. Anyway, we got out, and filled a bucket full of the empty molted shells, which are disturbingly crunchy and fragile, but very cool. You stick them to your clothing, and it's like velcro. Until, of course, you break the legs off. We wore them all over our shirts like jewelry for the rest of the day. People were a little alarmed at first, but the Summer of the Cicada is a big deal around here, so people in the stores quickly understood what they were, and smiled, and many stopped for a closer look. Some even took a few to wear themselves. We got some great pictures. I will never forget this day. Most importantly, neither will Kadison.
mishap is indicative,
I should just stay home.
Good morning!
Well, sorta.
Okay, so let's just get this out of the way: My gripe of the day is that I'm conflicted about my desire to vent, and my knowledge that I have it pretty darn good and should probably just shut the hell up with the whining before I even start.
I'm sitting here in my temperature-controlled home in a safe neighborhood, with my fat butt and full stomach, a healthy kid, a wonderful man, and a whole lot of other 'things' I don't need or deserve. I'm considering what any given Iraqi, Somali, or Palestinian mother might have to say about my complaints, and, it ain't pretty. The biggest point of contention in my family is that our plenty-of-room home isn't really big enough anymore, because we just plain old have too much stuff.
Seriously? I just got all poetic up there about the fact that my WAFFLE MAKER puked doughy white goo on my counter. Tragic! How can you blame me? What woman on the planet ever lived happily ever after without a properly-functioning waffle maker?!?
While I'm at it, let me also say that I frightened a poor dental receptionist this morning who called to reschedule an appointment. The truth is, I didn't want to go anyway. Did I tell her that? No...I told her what I thought about doctors cancelling at the last minute, and how I think my next office visit should be free. Granted, I don't think I was rude, and I stand by my convictions on this issue...but still. I could have just let it go. As far as I can tell, the world is still turning, and I'm eating a not-so-terrible-after-all waffle instead of getting my spit suctioned into a creepy loud tube-thingy right now.
So, I'm going to go do a Pilates workout with my kid (after My Life as a Teenage Robot is over...priorities!), adjust my baditude, and have a wonderful Friday.
I hope YOURS is wonderful, too! :)
Here's an old MySpace blog that inspires me to focus on having a memorable summer! :)
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Cicada Safari! Current mood:Indescribable
Tonight, my daughter and I went on a Super Seventeen Summer Cicada Safari. It was amazing. I'm talking about the 17-year-cycle cicadas, which will not come above ground again until Kadison is 23 years old. This was a very important adventure. We drove out to Rock Cut State Park, where I had heard there are thousands of them. We weren't sure exactly where to look, so we drove around, windows down, radio off...and followed the sound. Oh, the sound! It was amazing. Not shrill and deafening, like the sound some other cicada relatives make every summer evening in some areas of town. Nope. These horny bug-men are GOOD at the mating song. It was absolutely beautiful. Really. It made me cry. It is such a soothing, medatative, melodic hum. What an amazing treat for all the people camping out there tonight. If only I'd planned ahead, we may have done that this weekend. Anyway, we got out, and filled a bucket full of the empty molted shells, which are disturbingly crunchy and fragile, but very cool. You stick them to your clothing, and it's like velcro. Until, of course, you break the legs off. We wore them all over our shirts like jewelry for the rest of the day. People were a little alarmed at first, but the Summer of the Cicada is a big deal around here, so people in the stores quickly understood what they were, and smiled, and many stopped for a closer look. Some even took a few to wear themselves. We got some great pictures. I will never forget this day. Most importantly, neither will Kadison.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Ta Da!
Haiku of the Day:
Unsure what they think
of me, or if they even
do...still I censor.
Hey, y'all...welcome to my little blog! Here's how this is going to work: I'll be adding a new haiku every day (in green). In addition, I'll...well, ya know...BLOG! To start with, I'll probably also import some of my old MySpace blogs, since I am particularly proud of a few of them...or NOT proud at all, but feel they need to be shared anyway (in purple)!
Let me warn ya, though, that my blog is NOT a place where I will be self-censoring! Feedback is welcome, but will absolutely not affect my content. Thanks for reading so far! :)
MySpace import, from June 11, 2007
There once was a really cool fat chick,
Who was trying to be not quite so thick.
She discovered a treat
Super fun to eat
Frozen diet soda on a stick.
(I weep for the loss of thirty four years without such a basic life neccessity.)
I can tell this might be really *ahem* deep and meaningful! Prepare for enlightenment.
Unsure what they think
of me, or if they even
do...still I censor.
Hey, y'all...welcome to my little blog! Here's how this is going to work: I'll be adding a new haiku every day (in green). In addition, I'll...well, ya know...BLOG! To start with, I'll probably also import some of my old MySpace blogs, since I am particularly proud of a few of them...or NOT proud at all, but feel they need to be shared anyway (in purple)!
Let me warn ya, though, that my blog is NOT a place where I will be self-censoring! Feedback is welcome, but will absolutely not affect my content. Thanks for reading so far! :)
MySpace import, from June 11, 2007
There once was a really cool fat chick,
Who was trying to be not quite so thick.
She discovered a treat
Super fun to eat
Frozen diet soda on a stick.
(I weep for the loss of thirty four years without such a basic life neccessity.)
I can tell this might be really *ahem* deep and meaningful! Prepare for enlightenment.
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