what? oh, nothing. no nevermind.

well, i've got nothing. perhaps when in a breakfast coma one would realize that one shouldn't say anything about anything. back slowly from the keyboard and continue to suck on whatever caffienated beverage is keeping their vitals. well vital. i did not manage to make it to the 9am step aerobics class. this does not bode well for my to'do's for the rest of the day. perhaps i'm ulitmately preparing myself for the heat of the day- or maybe bcs of all the subterfuge that was taking place in my dreams... i need the rest now.

Today
Jul 8 Mostly Sunny
99°/68° 20%
99°F

the random:
-i still love jesus.
-i'm watching reno 911
-i'm grateful to be able to have food to eat everymorning.
-i am not grateful for my non air conditioned house.
-i'm planning to pick peaches, go the the post office. and that's all i know.
-the infection has dissipated from my burn
-wings of the dove has complicated sentence structuring- one might say, obtuse.
-i have film to develop from february...

the way he loves me when i'm not looking

  

more near-misses

Just because I'm clearly obsessed.

In approximately 5 seconds, the following could occur:

• the baby will roll off her changing table and break bones, or worse
• the ring will fall down the drain, into the river, lake, or ocean and be Lost Forever
• I will sideswipe the other car while pulling into or out of the parking space
• the car will run out of gas or otherwise break down on the highway, miles from the nearest exit
• I'll lock the keys and the phone in the car, along with the baby, in 90-degree heat
• we'll miss the mortgage payment and be out on the streets
• I'll leave the wrong door unlocked, encouraging the wrong person to walk in, armed, and steal things
• I've got more.

Thinking apparently brought on by:

• lots of spare time
• too many news-type shows and magazine articles
• overactive imagination
• propensity to be hyper-responsible, and
• propensity to be hyper-aware
• also, a little bit weird.

Results of said thinking:

• a little bit panicked, all the time, and
• annoyed that I'm baited by fear-mongering, and
• energy is wasted, but-
• mesmerized by how close bad things come to happening
• super-appreciative that they don't
• sort of amazed at the neatness of this universe
• have to hope Something Else won't catch me while I'm looking the other way, but
• certain that it will
• suppose that if any of said or not-said things did happen, would deal with it and live.

I wonder sometimes if it's a half-assed attempt to "control" the environment, by thinking of all the ways that we aren't in control? Too bad it won't work. Until then, shall continue to keep the insurance companies in business.

The Day After

Hallo channels of my brain. I am drinking iced-tea. Eating sunflower seeds. Moisturizing cuticles. Squeezing an exercise ball. Absent-minded: waiting for lunch. Staring at my calendar. Feeling: Lone-ness. A deep ache. Feeling: sunflowers stuck in my teeth, feeling thirsty. Pick my teeth. Drink my drink. Off time. Off memory. The ache remains. Breathe out. Go back to work. Think about the cold air. Think about tomorrow and tonight. Put my sweater on. And go back to work. Curled up toes, under my feet. And slip into oblivion.

Happy 4th

i'm working, but i hope you all are eating some good bbq for me.

Independence Day, 4th of July Quotes that I found on some website- oh yah! (which is also my right... um, privilage as an American...

“It ought to be commemorated, as the Day of Deliverance by solemn Acts of Devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with Pomp and Parade, with Shews, Games, Sports, guns, Bells, Bonfires and Illuminations from one End of this Continent to the other from this Time forward forever more.” —John Adams

“The Sun never shined on a cause of greater worth.” —Thomas Paine (1776)

“I am well aware of the Toil and Blood and Treasure, that it will cost Us to maintain this Declaration, and support and defend these States. Yet through all the Gloom I can see the Rays of ravishing Light and Glory. I can see that the End is more than worth all the Means. And that Posterity will tryumph in that Days Transaction, even altho We should rue it, which I trust in God We shall not.” —John Adams (1776)

“Our cause is noble; it is the cause of mankind!” —George Washington (1779)

FTA

I can't seem to cohesively gather my thoughts- about digestion or my lack of 4th of July fever... and i was over on the Unwilling Adult reading about the journal vs. blog issue, as i've been deliberately trying to drag the poor neglected thing about in the hopes of writing- emoting- in it. i succeeded after a 4month absense to pick it up again. Here are 2 entries (as writer-lee and as emotive as one could want for a 'journal')

(75 degrees) (Facing East) (23:10pm)

"To what do I owe
these many failed
enterprises.
This long riddled absence.
Traded words, fruitless
to the bargain,
collected upon the steps-
rise, revolt.
The pull of my insides
Stave off.
Sleep.
Make it matter.
How it forms upon the,
shore, where it takes me,
what it empties.
Like arrows their targets
find without guides but
good aim....
Dust and grey matter in
the crease of my hands
[lotion won't rectify
this mortal failing]
Tireless. Ticks off the list.
Aches from all their carrying/caring
Pauses.
Recompense.
All the damage,
Exacts payment.
Listless, upon account would
rather sleep than find themselves wanting-
To what?

contd...FTA

(73 degrees) (23:26pm) (Facing East)

A pain, and now fit.
Tripping over ill-matched tracks.
Once upon the rails,
Flowed, flawless.
But some derision,
Rips past and far-afield.
This pull, this fret,
And bloodied hands.
Climb and stumble back.
But missing.
But black/ and not a sound.
No post of welcome.
Now barriers to going back.
She murmers,
He waves-
In shadows, across
A shorn field.

We turn, we walk.
We do not speak,
Down these seperate paths.

I need an outfit to buy bacon in

House Rules Regarding Bacon

1. J.Lo brings it home (figurative)
2. Penelope spends it (figurative)
3. J.Lo fries it up (literal)
4. Penelope must buy it first (literal)

Except this week, and incidentally last week too, I forgot. I don't know what I was thinking. Maybe at the grocery store I passed by the bacon, saw it wasn't on sale and vetoed the idea, rationalizing it would be "better" for us anyway, to not have bacon for a week. But, it's sort of a ritual with us. Sunday morning=brunch, brunch=bacon. So buy the damned bacon, Penelope! Oh well. I forgot. Twice.

So this morning, I ended up going to the Harris Teeter. I don't mind. Normally, I'm a Lowes shopper, all the way, because of principle alone: Lowes gives you half price when you buy one BOGO item, Teeter requires a purchase of both BOGO items in order to get the "discount." It adds up, people, it adds up. But I do like Teeter on a Sunday morning, more so than Lowes because--and I know this is stupid, but--I hate the Lowes parking lot. I do. Maybe it's just too close to the AC Moore craft store, which is always absurdly crowded and reminds me of the Sundays I used to work there years ago, and the hoardes of people, and attempting to "organize" piles and piles of those velvet picture board thingies, which inevitably would topple forward onto my head after trying to cram 6 too many onto the shelf. Maybe that's it. I don't know, but the Teeter lot is just more peaceful, in my mind.

My whole problem with the grocery trip, though, and the reason I'm even telling this story, is because lately, I am FrumpMaster Funk. I'm not joking, that's me. I'm downright dowdy, and it's starting to make my fingernails sweat. J.Lo and are scheduled for a trip to the outlets soon, and let me tell you, I can't wait. Because nothing fits. I've lost all but 10 pounds of my pregnancy weight, which is fantastic, I am not so much complaining about that. The last 10 pounds may or may not go away. I'd rather it would, if I have a choice, because I notice the camera still tends to capture the double chin, which really aggravates me. The bigger problem though, is that I prefer to cover up, at this stage in time, my so-called "problem areas." That would be my sides, my ass. And this would be with shirts that actually fall to an appropriate length. But all of my old shirts, which actually do "fit," really they do, are too short, because approximately half of this baby weight I'm trying to lose is in my boobs.

Which, really, I'm so not complaining. Boobs bigger than an A-cup, woohoo! It's fantastic. But I need some SHIRTS. I swear I bought a bunch of shirts a few months ago, around my birthday, but every time I look in my closet or drawers, they seem to be mysteriously gone. Or in the form of too-hot sweaters. Or they have stains on them, like spaghetti sauce. Or I cut them accidentally with scissors. The point is, I HAVE NOTHING TO WEAR WHEN I GO TO BUY BACON.

And I did (briefly) consider just doing what I did in college, which was to just wear my pjs. Yes, I was one of Those People. Was anyone else? Come on, join me. Did you go to the Wal-Mart or the campus convenience store wearing your pj pants and a holey t-shirt? It was societally acceptable back then. Or at least, I pretended it was in the name of sheer laziness. But now, not so much. We can't do that anymore. We have to wear "clothes." And not sweatpants, either, because as Seinfeld said about George, at that point, it's like you've Given Up.

Anyway, I managed to throw something together for the Bacon Trip. Nothing fancy, mind you, just some cargo pants I found a few days ago in storage from a few summers ago that happen to still fit. And a tank top. And a shirt thrown over that. It will only be 90-some degrees today, no sweat.

Oh, my my myspace

I've been sucked into the vortex of myspace. I'd like to say it's Laura's fault, since she was talking about it the other day, but obviously it's all my own doing. My own, nosy doing. Because I SO wanted to see if I could find any of the people I went to high school with on there, or whatever. And I did. It was crazy. All the people my friend Jamie and I were discussing a couple of weeks ago in a "wonder what the hell happened to them" themed conversation were there. Well, most of them. A lot of them. And what can you really gather from a myspace profile. Everything looks better on paper, right? But a few pictures, a few specs--mainly the ones you'd spout off in a meaningless small-talky conversation at, say, a 10-YEAR REUNION, i.e. job, marital status, kids/no kids, are there. And it's something. Along with a few pictures. It makes me feel "connected," if only in a superficial way. I guess. The trouble is, I can't fucking stop messing with the myspace. Making the background pretty, uploading pictures, yadda yadda. And, most obsessively, I keep thinking of more people to look up and beg to be my "friend."

So far I've found:
1. An ex-boyfriend from college who is married now and has 2 kids. We dated for nearly 3 years, I dumped him because I just wasn't in love--and no, this wasn't even the grad-school BF, people. (The G-S BF would never put any of his information online, I'm sure of it.) Although, I was kind of surprised this other ex-boyfriend did. Shocked, in fact. His family's cute. He seems all different. Though, what did I expect--I am, too. Or at least, I hope to hell I am. Geez. Anyway, he's married to the girl he started dating about...mmm, 3 or 4 months after we broke up. I guess I didn't mean that much to him, either. And yet none of this information really phases me too much. I'm like, huh. Whatever. That's cool.

2. A multitude of high school peeps. People I haven't seen in 10 YEARS, because my family moved several states away from upstate NY less than a week after I graduated high school. And I've only been back twice. And most of the people aren't even there anymore, anyway, they live in all sorts of places. It's weird. We all went to school for 6 years together, and 10 years later, a fucking lifetime, really, I haven't the slightest idea what I would even say to them in a conversation, email or otherwise. Um, how's it going? So I just click the "friend" button and keep moving. I don't know where, if anywhere, it will go after that.

And you know, it does all look better on paper, and yet--I don't know. There's something in "the facts," I guess. It's like this compulsion to know where he or she went to school, where they might be working now, whether or not they're still single, what town they are living in. As though the basics give some deep insight to one's inner workings. Clearly they don't. And with my own info, it's not like I'm bragging. As Jamie said (about herself, but I feel the same way), "What the hell would I say? It's not like my life's such a gem." I mean, we're not complaining, life is pretty good and all, but it's like--whatever delusions we all might have had growing up about Who We'd Be and What We'd Do, clearly none of that ever happened. The big job, the fame, the fortune. What was I dreaming of, anyway. And why did it take so long to sink in that your "average" existence, a spouse, some kids, a home, a pet--the things we grew up with--was all we'd ever have, and all we would ever really want, anyway.

I guess I shouldn't speak for anyone else. And I do still dream. I don't feel like I "sold out" or "gave up" or anything. I feel content, really, when it comes down to it. And then (as an aside) here I am, obsessing these days about How Fast Time Goes, but good god, if high school doesn't feel like it happened another freaking lifetime ago. It almost makes me feel better, just seeing now, today, how much really can happen in 10 whole years, and that it doesn't go by so fast. Not really.

Anyway, I'm not even sure why I'm really doing it--myspace, I mean. Other than that I'm curious about people I've known, on whatever level, and this offers a little something. And if they're curious about me, there I am.

Spinny-eyed, absentee wife of J.Lo, addicted to the myspace. No really, I'm going to go do something different now. Read a book or paint my toenails or something. I mean that.

P.S. if you did add me as a "friend," thank you. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Last Evenings Activities Included

...Making this Tiki Wood Burning. This is a tool I don't use often enough but it seemed so completely appropriate- for a tiki themed baby party, whose child is a boy. I called my friend Beth and she was like, what- no way, i just wood burned my first tiki 3 days ago- Ah, universal thought something-something simultaneous something-something. so cool. I showed it to mom, and she said, well that's why we keep scraps of wood, so don't throw them away, it's maple- no wait she said walnut, whatever.


here's some facts about the tiki: ala Wikepedia
In Māori mythology, Tiki is the first man. In traditions from the East Coast of the North Island, the first human is a woman created by Tāne, god of forests. Usually her name is Hine-ahu-one. In other legends, Tāne makes the first man Tiki, and then makes a wife for him. In some West Coast versions, Tiki himself, as a son of Rangi and Papa, creates the first human by mixing his own blood with clay, and Tāne then makes the first woman. Sometimes Tūmatauenga, the war god, creates Tiki.[1] In another story the first woman is Mārikoriko. Tiki marries her and their daughter is Hine-kau-ataata (White 1887-1891, I:151-152). [2] In some traditions, Tiki is the penis of Tāne (Orbell 1998:178, Tregear 1891:510-511). In fact, Tiki is strongly associated with the origin of the procreative act.[3].

Here is one story of Tiki among the many variants:

Tiki was lonely and craved company. One day, seeing his reflection in a pool, he thought he had found a companion, and dived into the pool to seize it. The image shattered and Tiki was disappointed. He fell asleep and when he awoke he saw the reflection again . He covered the pool with earth and it gave birth to a woman. Tiki lived with her in innocence, until one day the woman was excited by an eel. Her excitement passed to Tiki and the first procreative act resulted (Reed 1963:52).

In Māori usage, the word 'tiki' is also the name given to large wooden carvings in roughly human shape.