LOOKIN' OUT FOREVER

Long busy day. Up at 5:45 (I'm off overtime for now. Yay!!!) At work we've started closing my department and things are getting a little nuts. I was just getting extremely comfortable there. Anyway, there are new people being hired and a lot of changes taking place. Different people are experiencing these changes in different ways and reacting to them accordingly. Some of those people are on my list of people who:

1. May want to rethink walking in front of, behind or anywhere near my car when I am in it.
2. Would just be better off to go ahead and off themselves to save me the trouble.
3. Should consider starting a prescription of Valium or something similar.
4. Should stay away from the caffeine.
5. Should just shut the eff-up.

I'm sorry if I sound cruel, I know I did yesterday when I spoke of ignoring people who approached my desk and I apologize for that. Tomorrow maybe I will apologize for this list. But there are just some people in the world who need to do some serious relaxing. I've never actually witnessed "a chicken running around with it's head cut off" but I can visualize it fairly easily. Enough of that.

I had the ultrasound done today. If I haven't said, my eye doctor, on accounta I have this huge optic nerve, which is unusual and predisposes me to developing glaucoma, wanted me to have an ultrasound done on my carotid arteries to make sure there are no blockages or interferences with the blood/oxygen flow to my eyes. If the results show no problems, the doctor will most likely decide that I am not a prime candidate, since I have no family history of glaucoma and the pressure in my eyes is normal (actually on the good side) and thus, do not need to be put on medication at this time. He will most likely tell me to keep having the Field of Vison testing done every six months or so and the OCT test done yearly and keep an eye (HA!) on the pressure in my eyes. The tech, Lindy, (isn't that a darling name?) who did the test said that my arteries looked pretty good. She said for my age and the fact that I was a smoker, they looked very good. She said normally she can tell right away by looking at the picture whether the patient is smoker or not and she said mine was not obvious. So, I should not be having any strokes or blackouts any time soon. Good. I can get on with it. I will have to wait to hear from the doctor, of course, before I decide to do any parachuting. Or deep-sea diving.

Hey kids, time for a vote. Being that I'm not getting any younger and things sometimes take me a bit longer to accomplish, I'm thinking of maybe posting every other day and reading all my favorite blogs on the opposite days to save time. Unless of course you won't mind shorter posts or maybe posts without added song lyrics, things that make me smile, and relevent quotes. I'd hate to do without those though, cause they're fun for me. I don't know, what should I do? I suppose I could just go on like this but I would need to plant a cardboard cut-out of myself somewhere in Poopy-Doo's line of vision. (He thinks I moved out weeks ago.) Give me your thoughts. And Chris, you could give me the Evelyn Wood version of your Time Management Skills. I don't know how you do it, man.

STHTTMMS: An email I received.

GSL: "You say the deck is oh so stacked. Is that all just in your mind? It can sometimes be turned back. Maybe sometimes, if you try." from Bigger Man by Tom Cochrane (from Mad Mad World, 1991. In my top 50 favorite, can't-live-without cds.)

I am very sad to hear that Coretta Scott King, widow of Martin Luther King Jr. died today.

MANNEQUIN SHOP

Today was one of those days where I just tried to lose myself in my music. I find that if you put the earbuds in, crank it loud enough and appear not to see the person who has just approached your desk for the third time, he/she will most likely walk away once again. If you're really lucky, they will have given up by now. Which just goes to prove, if it was really important in the first place, they wouldn't have walked away, right? Right.

I started out my ride to work with my good buddy Tom Cochrane. Now there is one musician that I just cannot for the life of me, find a category for. People ask me, who are you listening to? I say "Tom Cochrane." They ask, "What does he play?" I say (his most well-known) "Life is a Highway." If they are totally clueless still, they will say, "What kind of music does he play?"

If I answer "rock" and they want to know what kind of rock, then I'm clueless. There are just certain musicians who aren't easily categorized. John Hiatt is another. The band Morphine is another. I could say about 5 different categories that they might well fit into, but how much help is that. I'm not into pigeon-holing music. Or people, or anything else for that matter. When you put a label on something or someone you automatically apply limitations. There really still is such a thing as originality out there. But sadly there are so many things that can be labelled and catergorized. People, even. And that is a sad crime to me.

Please don't ever tell me that I'm "one of those people who..." or "the type that..." That would be like the ultimate insult to me. I try to be an original. I try to be unpredictable. I go to great lengths not to be like everyone around me. "Against the grain" is my middle name. Aha, I made a funny.

I never really thought about what it must be like to live with me. My poor husband. Gee Honey, why didn't you say something? Or what kind of mother I must be... When I think about my mother, (No news to report on that front as yet...) consistent is a word that comes to mind. Normal. Predictable. Of course I am referring to her mothering skills as I observed them growing up, not exactly as the person who I am having such a #&%$*# dealing with presently.

Aside from some really quirky things my kids do, and never in public mind you, (wink) I really don't think my different-ness has had any negative effects on either of them. By the way, you all are familiar with my daughter JuJu. I also have a son, JuJu's older brother, Zog. (not his real name.) I will ask him if he has a problem with me referring to him by his real name here. I have asked my husband by what name he would like to be referred to here. He got pretty silly at one point, so I dropped it and never pursued it after that. I think I will call him Poopy-Doo. (Just until he reads this and throws a hissy. Then I will change it to something else until he tells me what he wants to be called.)

Anyway. I could never understand why people would want to be just like everybody else. I can understand maybe emulating a hero/heroine, but please, do it with your own style. The people in my life who really stand out are the individuals with their own panache and style. Course, there are those who carry it too far. The secret I think is knowing when to quit. Like they say (and I always wonder who the hell "they" are) when you get dressed to go out, turn away from your mirror. Spin back around and take off the first thing you see in the mirror. Hopefully it will be that fourth bracelet and not your pants. I don't think this works for men because they only wear the bare minimum of pieces at any given time. Where was I going with this? Oh, when you are building character and personality, if you use this formula, does it mean that you lose that most vivid and visible trait? Nah, I don't think that works in this case. Don't mind me. I knew when I sat down here to write that my brain wasn't in the right gear. It's Monday and it's foggy here in my head. Anyway, be yourself.

That's it for today's lesson, class. Or that's it for today's class lesson. Or that's class for today's it lesson. Or that's it.

STHTTMMS: Talking to LittleJuJu on the phone tonight. He said he's learning to count by fives. I asked him how he likes counting by fives. "I love it!" he said. Good, he's not taking after Nana in the math department.

GSL: (It's a beautiful night out and made me think of this-) "And all the night's magic seems to whisper and hush. And all the soft moonlight seems to shine in your blush. Can I just have one more Moondance with you, my love?" from Moondance by the very cool Mr. Van Morrison.

RQ: "There never were, in the world, two opinions alike, no more than two hairs or two grains; the most universal quality is diversity." - Michel De Montaigne

MAMADADDYDID

In case some of you have not been with me from the start, I title my posts using song titles from the band The Replacements. Also songs from ex-band members Paul Westerberg and Tommy Stinson. Aside from U2 (and very possibly a newer Canadian band called Arcade Fire) the Replacements are about my favorite bend, ever. Sometimes the titles take some stretching to make sense (like today for example) but I'm stubborn and refuse to quit until I've used up all their song titles. It won't be too long until I'm scraping the bottom of the barrel. Does "barrel" have one l or two? If you're new here, you also don't know that for some reason, my computer reads "spellchecker" as a pop-up, so I'm on my own in the spelling department. If I have time, I use the dictionary that's always at my desk. More often than not, I wing it. < where did that expression come from? If you see something in bold lettering, it's a suggestion for leaving a comment. If you are new here, I suggest you go back to the beginning and start. Why did I start so much sheet that needs e'splainin', Lucy?

Today was just another in a long line of emotionally draining days that seem to be the norm for me lately. I will try to explain quickly since I keep seeing this flashing light in my right peripheral vision and that might mean a migraine and in that case I will cry which would also come under the heading of "the norm for me lately". Yeah, I'm a mess. I am considering starting smoking again, and no, I did not type that in bold lettering which means it is not a suggestion for a subject for you to comment on, although I have a strong feeling I'll hear about it from everybody but Mike B., only because we've already discussed the subject at great length on numerous occasions. You would be better to lecture me on the subject of run-on sentences which I seem to be over-using (one word or hyphenated?) at great length today. That all said, back to the subject at hand.

What I mostly did today was to compose a letter to my mother, with whom I have not spoken since the day after Christmas. I won't go into details but will tell you that she and I have been having problems (little ones) since my father died in 1998. My parents were of the school of thought that if you ignore most bothersome issues, they will go away. Well, I learned early in my adult life out in the world that if you don't deal with bothersome issues, they grow bigger and bigger until you can no longer sweep them under the rug without some major trippage occurring. Evidently me mum never learned the lesson. So although the problems have been occurring all this time, they've not been handled and so they are huge now and it all culminated here with all the family around on the day after Christmas. At first I couldn't bring myself to pick up the phone because I had just stopped smoking and it seemed too tall an order. Then, it was another excuse. It's been a month now and I can't run any more. But I didn't have the balls to do it face to face, so I've written her a letter, yes a lo-o-o-ng one, expressing my concerns and inviting her to open up and have a discussion with me to find some solutions.

Nothing like airing the family laundry on the old blog, eh.

Anyway, that was most of my day. It's past my bedtime, we'll have to do without the smiles and song and quote tonight. Thanks for being such an understanding crew. What would I do without you?

Dana, sweetheart, I will get to that dream soon, I promise. Thanks for patience.

BEER FOR BREAKFAST

Not sure why I chose this title except that I just left a party where there were still 8-10 guys crowded around a keg of beer, guarding it like someone might try to confiscate it from their ardent watch. I wonder if they will still be there in the wee hours of the mornin'. That is, if there still would be beer in the keg. Doubtful. But there is always this scene at any gathering where there is a keg of beer. I wonder if these are the same actors at each party. Stunt men of sorts. The beer guzzlers. Maybe stand-ins is a better way to refer to them. They all have the exact same stance, the plastic cup of beer in one hand and the other hand buried in their jeans pocket. The same smile on their collective faces, the same glazed-over look in their eyes. The keg guards. They need to wear those big tall fuzzy black hats like the guards at Buckingham Palace wear. That would be funny. This post could be weird, I've been drinking coconut rum and Coke all evening.

An old friend turned 50, the cause for celebration. He's a good guy. I'm not sure though if I ever apologized sufficiently for the black eye I gave him when we were in Junior High. It was totally not intentional. It was a snowball fight, most likely the girls vs. the boys, as most squirmishes are at that age. I had wailed a ball of snow at him, in the dark. It was by pure chance I'm sure that it hit him in the eye, as my aim was anything but accurate. In the excitement of the moment I had neglected to notice that there was ice among the snow and what I threw at him was actually more of an iceball than a snowball. Oh gawd, imagine the sheer humiliation of walking into school on Monday morning with a black eye and having to explain that a stupid girl hit you in the eye with a snowball. At any rate, he survived and is now celebrating the milestone of turning 50. Happy Birthday to him.

Had a good time tonight. Getting out just to have fun and relax is pretty much a rarity for me and it felt great. I got to spend time with a lot of old friends that I rarely see these days. I did however have one startling "wake up" moment when I met up with a boy/man I used to babysit when I was in High School. He had more gray hair than I do and that kind of knocked me for a loop. Some things are just not right.

I was able to spend time with a dear, dear friend Patty and her husband Jay, from Amsterdam. They are fairly newly-wedded and very much in love and a joy to be around. Jay is another crazy engineer and can be quite the smart ass which I totally appreciate. Patty and I have been friends since elementary school and, although we don't see each other quite often, we have the sort of friendship that picks up where we left off the last time we were together. Jay and I had a very interesting conversation about all the different types of engineering. The couple travelled to Detroit, Michigan earlier this week to a Car Show and the Henry Ford Museum and shared that experience with me. When we weren't talking we were laughing. I only snorted once. Did I mention that I snort when I laugh too hard? Not proud of that but it's not anything I have control over... Oh, no, I forgot to ask them to bring me strope waffles next trip. Have you ever had strope waffles? They are thin, crispy waffles, 2 of them, with a thick maple syrup between them. If you put them on top of a hot cup of coffee, the syrup softens up and ummm, ummm, are they yummy.

Not to stop this abruptly but it is now Sunday morning. I hadn't finished posting last night when the husband decided to do scads of downloading. So I'll post this now and write more later. I should run over to the party site and see how many of those guys are having beer for breakfast.

LITTLE MASCARA...

was all I had left on my face last night after watching The Constant Gardener. The injustice portrayed in this movie against the people suffering from AIDS in Africa was just too much for me to handle. I'm not going to get all into this here because once I get started, there would be no stopping me. As bad as the genocide was that took place in Rwanda and is still taking place today in Darfur, now the pharmaceutical companies are "using and abusing" the African people in a whole new way, all in the name of treating AIDS. Jesus, I can't stand it. Who the f--- decided these people are dispensable? Say prayers and do whatever else you can.

*Deep cleansing breath* I am worthless again this weekend. The movie drained me last night, as did this past week. I have done nothing but sleep since about 10 last night. Must have needed it. Consequently, now I have about 43 things that I have to cram in and accomplish during what is left of today. At some point this weekend I would kind of like to take down my Christmas tree and decorations. (Shut up) Last weekend I used the excuse that I wasn't done looking at the pretty tree yet. This weekend it's ugly and will need dusting. I don't know, when I do get it down, there will be that big empty corner to look at and the room will look bare... And Monday morning at work when someone (inevitably) asks me if I took my tree down YET?! I won't be able to make them laugh when I say "Not yet, get off my back!" if I take it down now. Ah, if I get to it I will. If I don't I won't.

Which brings me to the discussion which took place at work yesterday at my expense... Seems some of my co-workers have noted some "changes" in my personality since I have stopped smoking. They were kind enough to include me in the discussion. Note: my co-workers respect me and love me and know that I would accept their comments in the kind and caring way in which they were intended.

It seems that I get "irritated" more easily now. (Example: A couple of months ago new speakers were installed in the different departments for the PA system. For some reason, ours is sometimes obnoxiously loud. My desk happens to be situated closest to the speaker. I contend that this annoyed me as much before I quit smoking as it does now, I am just more vocal about the intrusion. I do, at times, find myself screaming back at the speaker with a fervor and vengeance not unlike a cornered banshee. What is a banshee, anyway?)

It also seems that I am not as "precise" in my work habits these days. (Example: It was pointed out to me that I used to be very exacting in the practice of applying labels to finished products. My supervisor observed me recently applying a label rather haphazardly and upon noticing that it was not centered, my comment was "Ahhhh, what the hell, it's on there.") The person who pointed this out to me was rewarded by my request that she move her ass so that I could get in the desk drawer.

I guess you need to understand that prior to quitting smoking, my main focus in life was to behave as a lady in public and treat all of mankind with respect and reciprocity. I see now that all of that garbage was nicotine-fueled. Screw it all! Here I am reminded of one of my favorite scenes in Legends of the Fall when the patriarch of the family played by Anthony Hopkins had had a stroke and was forced to communicate with a tablet and stylus. He could barely speak but when confronted by the reality that some bad guys were threatening his family/property, he somewhat coherently bellowed "Screw 'em!!!" I guess that's what happens when you lose your dignity, respect for your fellow man, the need to act like a lady in public, and your nicotine.

What have you got to lose at this point, I ask you.

Now that I've vented all over you, tell me how you plan to spend your weekend and/or what you feel strongly about these days. I'm going to go tackle some chores and I'll be back to talk to you when I'm not feeling quite so feisty.

RQ: "Out of the crooked timber of humanity no straight thing can ever be made." - Immanuel Kant.

BOOK MARK

(I'm introducing a new feature today. I've boldened- [see how I like to make up words?]- some things that you just might like to comment on. Keep in mind, these are only suggestions. Feel free to say WhatEver you'd like.)

You know how unnerving it is to "lose your place"... You know how upsetting it is to lose anything. I've become very conscious of late of all the things I've lost in my life. I used to keep a little placard on my desk at work that proclaimed, amid some really cool artwork all in blues and beiges, that "Of all the things I've lost, I miss my mind the most." How true that was at the time. But these days, I look at that loss sometimes as more of a blessing than a curse. See, when you don't have your mind, you're not so keenly aware of all those other things you've lost. There are downsides, as well, obviously. I am presently mourning the loss of my dear friend, Cigarette and I believe that may be one reason that I am preoccupied with this topic today.

I know you will be impressed to see that I'm using bullets. Don't get excited, I have not yet figured out how to turn them off. Now for some things we lose:

• Car keys are a common thing to lose, we all do it.
• Self-respect is less common and a bit more serious. Let's all try to avoid that at all costs...
• You can lose your shirt in a card game; if that's all you lose, you're doin' good.
• Lose your point of reference? That's tough, can throw off your whole whatever you're doin'. And that can be serious.
• Loss of life or limb? God forbid. That's why we have insurance I guess. And hope to heck you don't need it.
• Paradise Lost? Poor you! You should have held on to it better in the first place, Fool! If you were lucky enough to find it, you oughta be grateful enough to figure out how to hold on to it.
• "Lost in You"- a really great dance tune from my old (literally) pal Rodney. (Stewart) How does that man do it? He hasn't lost it.
• Losin' your hair? That's ok, I think men with high foreheads are very sexy. Women on the other hand, I feel for you.
• "Destitute and Losin"- I've heard that somewhere but I've lost where. Maybe an album title?
• And I believe there is a TV show that I should include here but I haven't lost my mind to that extent. Am I anti-tv or what?

I am reminded just now of that quirky little gesture that I was so fond of at the time it was popular. The old "two fingers in the shape of an 'L' on the forehead..."

Well, we're losin' daylight gang. And I'm aboot to lose my patience with this rather depressing subject. What have you lost lately? I hope you find it, where/whatever it may be.

I do have a solution. I've been told that you shouldn't whine unless you have a solution. It's a good one. I'll need an engineer and a prayer to pull this off though. You know when you have a really bad problem with your computer? (Just try to imagine, I know it might be hard.) You may have to resort to that nifty little function that I believe is called System Restore. You, in essence, turn back time, to a place before the problem occurred. Or before the loss. Seems pretty simple to me. There it is, back in front of you just like it was before you lost it. All with a little click of a button on a teeny remote that you can carry in your pocket.

This solution would come in way handy when I want a cigarette. And when I look down and see that my jeans are getting tighter every day... Hope to lose the craving and a couple pounds.

But there are a gazillion other things in my life that I'd kind of like to hold on to for as long as I can. So I'll try not to lose my concentration on those.

STHTTMML: Nothing comes to mind. Gawd, I hope I haven't lost my sense of humor.

Relevant Song Lyrics, not necessarily Good: "Must of got lost, somewhere down the line." - J. Giles Band

RQ: "It's allright letting yourself go, as long as you can get yourself back." - Mick Jagger Hmmmm, somehow I never thought of Mick as a particularly wise man...

TORTURE

Two great people sent me cards today offering support and congratulations in the cessation of my smoking. Both were really great, funny cards; one from my best work friend Cindy, the other from JuJu. Thanks again, both of you. Cindy reminded me that today marks one month since my quit day, which was Christmas. The time has actually gone fairly fast. I still want one. Right this minute would be Wonderful. But dwelling on it isn't going to help me and will only bore you. If you aren't a smoker, DO NOT EVER START. It's that simple. If you do, I will be glad to help you saw off your arm.

I was getting a little creeped out at work today. Let me preface this by saying that I do not normally listen to the radio at work. Just the past two days I have tuned into BOB-FM. Today, weirdly enough, Bob kept playing songs that I'd mentioned in my blog over the past couple days. Weird, firstly because I hardly ever listen to the radio like I said. Weird secondly, because there are so many freaking songs in the world that Bob could be playing. You see I have this theory that a certain communications company in our area has been sucking all of our personal information out of our computers and cell phones and every other device capable of storing information. I'm pretty sure it's all ending up somewhere that Dubya has access to, or even more frightening, people who have an idea of what to do with that information. And can read. Anyway, if you're ever in the neighborhood, stop by. I'll pour you a glass of something cold or a cup of something hot and I'll tell you all the instances and observations which lead me to believe what I do. I won't write it here or call you on the phone about it. It has to be face-to-face.

So anyway, I'm wondering how Bob got a hold of my favorite dance tunes. And how will this information be used against me? Oh lord, what if they convince Google... God help us.

Enough paranoia for one day. Do you spend as much time filtering every day as I do? I turn on the news in the morning to see the weather forecast, mostly to know what to wear. I turn the nasty news down until the weather comes on. Then I turn it off when the weather is over. I either listen to cds in the car or BOB-FM which has neither a dj nor news broadcasts. When I get to work, depending on what I'm doing or who's around, I'll put my headphones on and crank the music to block out the gossip/what's on sale/who's on first. That continues throughout the work day. Repeat in the car for the ride home; cds or BOB. Seems like all day I'm blocking out. I rarely watch TV cause I can't stand being made to feel the way TV makes one feel. I come on here at some point and thank my lucky stars for pop-up blockers. That's all I have to say about that.

I'm tired. I must have let too much in today. Or blocked too much out?

STHTTMMS: Went for a walk after dinner. Just to the mailbox and back. Was dark and snowing. Reminded me of when I was little. Yeah, I guess I went for a lot of walks in the dark in the snow when I was little.

GSL: "We skipped the light fandango/ turned cartwheels 'cross the floor." from A Whiter Shade of Pale by Procol Harum (1967) Keith Reid who wrote the lyrics, contends that the song is about an intense love affair. The couple dances and drinks and loves but ultimately the love dissolves. Others believe the entire song is about a man who dies from an overdose of a drug he's addicted to. A third interpretation is that its simply about finding one's self getting well and truly drunk.

Hmmm. I prefer Interp #3. The other too are just too real. *block out*

RQ: (Relevant to my life, not necessarily this post...) "I would be curious to discover who it is to whom one writes in a diary. Possibly to some mysterious personification of one's own identity."

- Beatrice Webb

ELECTION DAY

Only two reasons for the title of this post. First one is that I don't foresee any reason to use it in the future. The second reason is that probably 50% of my Readership is Canadian and since yesterday (not today) was their Election Day, even though I know very little aboot the Canadian political scene or their elections, I want them to feel at home here. Let's all make the Canadians feel at hoom. I'm so sorry, if it makes you feel any better, I make fun of the way Everybody talks. Can't help it. Mike and Simon know this aboot me already. As does JuJu and Joni and Dana and Tammy. Jeff, did you? Ruby? Chris? Jeez, why am I apologizing? You all know me that well. You can make fun of my accent any time you want. Go ahead. ;-)

If there had been a title that I could use called "Brain Nuggets" I would have. 'Cause it's already past my bedtime and I have no business being on here, much less trying to write a comprehensive, entertaining post. Youn's are jes' gonna have to git usedta me lettin' ya down now 'n then, tha's all 'er is tuit. Y'hear? I knew ya'd unnerstand.

Just a couple of things. I remembered a whole bunch of good dance tunes after I finished yesterday's post. Not the least of which were: Billy Idol's Dancin' With Myself, which was on the radio when I turned BOB-FM on first thing this morning. Tonight I heard two more of my favorites (favorite dance tunes are not to be confused with favorite tunes, period) which were Madonna's Like A Virgin and Centerfield by John Fogerty. Madonna tunes that I like at all are on a short, very short list. Just so you know. Don't be sending me Madonna cd's for my birthday. Or Cher cd's. Don't get me started on that list...

Since I quit smoking I've been partaking in a new meal concept, I believe it is referred to as Breakfast. (Not to be confused with my old first-meal-of-the-day which consisted of coffeeandacigarette, yum). I'm kind of playing around with the menu, to see what suits my stomach that ungodly time of day. I can certainly tell you what has not worked and why. Do not eat a banana for breakfast with a cup of coffee. The reason being, (and I hesitate to tell you this, on a kinda, I always try to be a lady) that the combination produces the absolute worst pukey burp that you can imagine. I'm sorry, but I had to warn you. You know how bad orange juice tastes on top of toothpaste? It's even worse than that.

K, I gotta run. Thanks for stoppin' by.

RQ: "We are all born mad. Some remain so." - Samuel Beckett

ALL HE WANTS TO DO IS FISH

Not only is this a really silly song, Paul, you need to get together with Don Henley and get the story straight; All She Wants To Do Is Dance.

But before we get out on the floor, might I draw attention to the fact that I unintentionally may have been a little insenstive yesterday joking about my daily errands. Hostage negotiation is certainly not one of my activities and considering the current story in the news, I have picked a poor time to make light of a situation such as that. My sincere apologies.

Having that said, let me attempt to impart to you, Reader, my passion regarding a simple every-day world-wide activity that has been around possibly since the beginning of time. I would like to hear the words, "Would you like to dance?" maybe as much as I would like to hear, "My name is George Dubya and I'm an Asshole and therefore, resign my position as Pres'dent of the Yewnited States of Amur-ka." Well, ok, just a little bit more.

You see, what better way is there for a person to express oneself than through body language? There is no spoken language to interpret or misunderstand. There is no intonation to give an impression, false or otherwise. There is no stuttering or stammering or inability to find the right words. There is no paper involved, no phone, no PC, no megaphone, no tin cans. It's free, easy and no two people express themselves in quite the same way, so it's a very original, individual thing. How cool is that? Pretty cool but NOT AS COOL as when you set it to music my friend!!!

The only thing I can think of more enjoyable to do to music is, um, well... to clean house. Yeah, that's it. But dancing is a very primal, basic act in itself. It is ultimately a body reacting to a beat. And whether you are dancing to bring about the end of a draught, tap dancing at gunpoint or collecting filthy old Hamiltons (or eeewww, worse) in your g-string, chances are you have a smile on your face and you feel good. I used to go out dancing at least one night a week. I was in great shape and felt great too. I swear, when I quit doing that I started to fall apart.

Once, when my husband and I first started dating, I had fallen and sprained my ankle. On the way to the emergency room, I (jokingly) dramatically wailed "Oh, what if I should never dance again?" My fiance' replied, completely seriously (and this has always stayed with me) "It will be the world's loss."

I have finally, after a lifetime, mastered part of the saying "Live like there's no tomorrow, Dance as if nobody's watching and Work like you're not getting paid" (or however that goes is). I mastered the dance part. Forget the other crap. I can get completely lost in a particular song. I used to be too self-conscious to do that but I don't care anymore. I do however, turn the lights down. Don't need the whole neighborhood gawking in, ya know? My only real requirement is that the music is Loud. It has to feel like you're really there. And since the hubby purchased the entertainment "system" last year, I am complete. All I need is to feel that bass in my tummy and I'm there.

Do you have a favorite Dance Movie? I think my all-time favorite is Flashdance, I love the routines the dancers did in the bars. And the scene with Al Pacino in Scent of a Woman was great. I watched Saturday Night Fever several months ago and it lost a lot of the original appeal, sad to say.

Getting late, I was going to list some of my favorite dance songs. The first few that come to mind are Kung Fu Fighting, Tarzan Boy, You Dropped a Bomb on Me, Play That Funky Music White Boy, Cherry Bomb, So Into You, Long Cool Woman, Carribean Queen, Heart of Glass, Turn Me Loose, oh geeze, somebody stop me! I'll be boppin' all nite long! :-)

STHTTMML: Our supervisor was beginning training today as the people in my department will be starting soon in another department. She was going over some of the different equipment we will be using and mentioned what I thought was "Love Compatibility" I must have made a strange face, she asked me if there was a problem. I asked her to repeat what she had said. She did. It was Glove Compatibility. I still don't know what the hell she meant but it was funny. If you were there.

GSL: "A live wire, barely a beginner, but just watch that lady go. She's on fire, cause dancin' gets her higher than, uh, anything else she knows." From Dance The Night Away by Van Halen

RQ: "Dancing is the loftiest, the most moving, the most beautiful of the arts, because it has no mere translation or abstraction from life; it is life itself." - Havelock Ellis.

TAKIN' A RIDE

Is there a part of your day that is necessary to get you through the other parts of your day that aren't quite your idea of ideal? I know what some of you will say, and I'm looking forward to reading what you'll write. The part of my day that I look forward to is really selfish but I've come to depend on it for mind-cleansing and stress-busting.

I completely enjoy a bubble bath. It's ultra-relaxing and, depending on how much time I have to spend, can relax me to the point of actually falling asleep. There is a downside, however, and that is waking up and finding the bubbles have moved out and left behind about 12 inches of chilled water and you, with pruny skin and goosebumps abounding. The other bad thing is that it is time consuming if you want the full effect so I tend to alternate between showering and bubble bathing and lately the showers have won out. But that isn't the part of my day that gets me through the rough stough. Or ruff stuff. Or ruff stough.

I love my car. I love everything about my car. I especially love the stereo system in my car. I love the comfortable, heated seats in my car. When I close my car door and buckle me in and push the on button for music, I'm somewhere else. So, as much as I love to be home, if I do end up having to leave my refuge for a reason (work, shopping, cello lessons, bikini waxing, animal rescue, press conference, tattoo removal, hostage negotiation, whatever it may be...) at least the ride to and from anywhere is enjoyable for me. And that's a darn good thing because it feels pretty much like my second home a lot of the time.

I remember when I was small, sometimes on a Sunday afternoon, Mom and Dad would pile all six of us kids in the car and we would just go for a ride. It was a big deal. Yeah, we would fight over who got the window seats. But after we got older and Dad got smarter (or better paid?) we had three-seater station wagons and more of us got window seats. A couple of us even got to sit "clear in the back" AND facing backwards. Which was fun of course, unless you had a dress on and had to climb back there like a lady... But that was only a problem for two of us, being that four of us were (and still are) boys. Well, men, now. People just don't do that any more. Like visiting relatives on Sunday afternoons, too. Families are so scattered, sometimes you can't make the trip in an afternoon. Otherwise, people are just too busy. Or pissy.

Life has changed so much. It seems to me that with all the time-saving devices available to us, we should have more free time than we do. I don't know, sometimes I literally yearn for the way life used to be. Some of you readers don't even have the luxury of knowing what it was like in the days that I'm referring to. And it's really weird to think that someday, some of you will be looking back to the way things are now and yearning for it. I need to live in the "Leave it to Beaver" era. The simplicity of that life is so very desirable to me. Most women could never imagine being satisfied and fulfilled to live as June Cleaver did, but, boy could I! I might lose the pearls and I might have had to wail on Eddie Haskell now and then, but I could so get into that level of simplicity in my life. Of course, I would still have to have my car and my stereo, no getting around that. And I might have to get Ward to loosen up a bit and trade those sweaters in on a few Banlons. Fun to think about...

Well, this post certainly skipped around all over the place. You'll maybe get used to that.

Have a good rest-of-the-weekend. What are you doing today?

STHTTMML: Each evening as my husband and I are getting ready to sit down to dinner, whichever one of us is getting drinks asks the other "What are you drinking?" Earlier in the afternoon I had cleaned and cut up celery to snack on. I had a couple of stalks of that center yellow part with the leaves left over that I thought would be great with a glass of V*8 later. Not wanting to put it back in the crisper to forget about until too late, I just put the stalks in a glass on the counter where I normally put my drinking glass. When my husband asked what I was drinking, he picked up my glass, looked at it oddly and said "oh. celery." Yes, dammit,you had to be there but honest, it was funny.

GSL: "You can lean your head on my shoulder, and just for awhile/ forget about the world, baby, mile after mile. We'll drive all night long, yeah. You want a ride?" from Drive by Bon Jovi. Not to be confused with a band I really like alot.

RQ: It is in our idleness, in our dreams, that the submerged truth sometimes comes to the top."- Virginia Woolf

NOTHING

Which is, as well as the title of an ex-Replacement Tommy Stinson song from the album Bash and Pop, exactly what I have accomplished thus far today. I must have been awake too late last night. My brother called at 10 am and I was still asleep. Of course it was the brother who makes a big deal out of calling at 10am and finding you still alseep. I should have lied and said I was unloading groceries from the car. NE-way (that's my new way to write Anyway. Aren't I clever? Nope, just bored with the old way.) I got up then, had breakfast, read part of two books, had breakfast again and decided to do laundry. Since then I have been on the computer three times, considered posting the first two times and changed my mind. I answered two emails and wrote one new one. I attempted to decipher a dream that was sent to me and found that I needed more information, so wrote another email. (I have no make-up on and am still in my jammies.) Then I ate lunch. Then I started to put some gifts away that were still under the tree. I know, shut up. I'm not finished looking at my tree yet. Or the other pretty decorations. I am however, finally putting all the boxes and bags of wrapping paper and ribbon and gift tags back in the attic where they belong. JuJu called and I talked to her and little JuJu for a bit. Then I looked at the clock and thought I should start planning dinner. I checked email instead. Then I put new cds in the player. I am on my second cup of coffee, it's 4:24 pm. I need to go take towels out of the dryer. Maybe I should comb my hair. Nah, it doesn't look that bad. I will get the towels AND decide what to make for dinner. Then I think I will email Simon and tell him to get out his ass-kickin' boots and come and give me a good swift one. Cause I sure ain't doin' nuthin' like makin' the most outta life today. I ain't doin' squat. And ya know what? It kinda feels good.

STHTTMML: The husband came down stairs and walked up behind me in the kitchen. He said to me "What are you doing?" and scared the holy crap outta me. I jumped about an inch, both feet left the floor I swear. It took me five minutes to stop laughing.

GSL: "I'm blinded by the obsession/ The heat of Summer beckons. Blue, green and red are the colors on the sidewalk/ Outside the buildings echo. The sound of the wind and I hear the sound of my heartbeat in my ears. Wrap a ribbon around your finger. Someday you will remember what it felt like in her arms. She could make you laugh, she could make you cry, show you dark things deep inside." From "Color of the Sun" by the Willard Grant Conspiracy. Awesome song.

RQ: "It is the leisured, I have noticed, who rebel the most at an interruption of routine." - Phyllis McGinley

EYES LIKE SPARKS

(Forgive me on the title, the only song with Eyes mentioned. Lame, I know)

Long day today. Worked half a day and left to have a test done by my eye doctor. I have a "grossly large optic nerve", which to my way of thinking sounds definitely beneficial, except for the grossly part, which I think was just a word the doctor used to exaggerate the size of said nerve. In actuality though, that nerve just helps to predispose me to the possibility of developing glaucoma which could leave me blind in my late 80's. I figure by then I will have seen everything I needed and wanted to and there won't be anything worth seeing around anymore anyway. If you know anything about the eye, my pressure is at an acceptable level, even good. That fact makes it a little more difficult to detect glaucoma and so I need to have a doppler test done on my carotid arteries (in the neck) to rule out any kind of blockage that might cause a circulation problem with blood flow, etc. to my eyes. Doc said it's great that I quit smoking, that is the very best thing I could do to slow down glaucoma if I have it or deter it if I don't. I guess the doppler will tell. I'm not worring about it though, no sense in it.

So I got my eyes dilated so that the test (an OTC-I forget what that stands for) could be done. They dilate your pupils and take pictures of the back of your eyes, look at the visceral (?) fluid in the eye, some cup-shaped thing and the nerves and veins in your eyes. It's pretty cool. You're up close to a screen and you see all red with some swirling silvery lights that spin in a circle. Then a yellow light flashes off to the side. You follow the yellow light with your eye while a camera takes the pictures. When the flash goes off, the screen turns a really pretty shade of blue. Trippy baby. It was over really quickly but my eyes took forever to un-dilate. I hate that, you can't really see shit but you can sort of. Forget trying to read or be out in the sunlight. So the hub and I went for an early dinner at a favorite restaurant and then, when I could see better, took a little sidetrip to see if my favorite record store had found a new owner and opened back up. (Crossing fingers) Yippee, it had! My new music guru who had planned to buy the store was working but it turns out that someone else had bought the store. Whatever, I'm just glad it's reopened. Bought an extended EP of Arcade Fire from 2003 that I've been looking for and can't wait to listen to. Also a Collective Soul that comes with an (get this) actual guitar pick from the band inside. While I was there I listened to some Devendra Banhart (Cripple Crow) I had wanted to check out. Was not impressed enough to purchase. He's got a cool voice, a different sound. It was a double cd with tons of songs. About a third of them were Spanish and/or Latin sounding. Not bad really, just different enough to be considered different. Maybe on another day in a different mood I would buy it. Also Listened to Athlete. Forget the name of the cd. It was good, but not enough to buy.

I'm getting tired here. Getting up at 4:30 am is not for old people. Or anyone for that matter. It's just not natural. Roosters aren't even up then. Have a good weekend.

STHTTMMS: My record store has been restored and reinstated! Life is good... :-)

GSL: "It's a beautiful day, don't let it get away." from "Beautiful Day" by U2, the greatest rock band in the world.

RQ: "The soul, fortunately, has an interpreter- often an unconscious, but still a truthful interpreter- in the eye." Charlotte Bront'e

WAKE UP

Interesting conversation I had at work today with a friend. I have a bit of a reputation among my co-workers for being kind of a resident dream interpreter, and he was seeking my expertise. Not wanting to violate the confidence of the dreamer/interp code that I have so conscientiously implemented, I'll not divulge the subject matter of the dream but will tell you that it was fascinatingly indicative of an emotional struggle this poor soul has been repressing for years upon years. I hope to, in the days ahead, help this individual to see that the message his dream is trying to deliver through his subconscious is one that can be quickly dealt with in the form of possibly affirmation or more likely, acceptance of the situation symbolized in the dream itself. In either case, I expect that the dream, having realized the actual message being delivered and recognized, will immediately cease. Should the individual accept the message and work through the emotional issues addressed, he will be well on his way to being more emotionally healthy and having his subconscious dreaming mind to thank.

Oh, guess what. Most of that last paragraph was just me talking out my ass. Were you impressed? I hope not. While some of it is, indeed, things I have learned through extensive reading on the subject, a lot of it was just improvised bs on my part. The reading I have done though, has been actual medical studies based on sleep studies, etc, not the silly dream dictionaries you find in your local book emporium in the hobby section. I have a big problem with those book for a couple of reasons. One, one can never say that if you dream of, for example, snakes; that snakes symbolize sex in a dream. Pooh shit. Snakes mean all different things to all different people. While snakes may symbolize sex in your dream, though doubtful, in Sally's dream they may symbolize a crazy uncle who wore Woolrich plaid and smoked a pipe. To someone else, they may actually be snakes and nothing more. Water is often thought to also symbolize sex in people's dreams. I feel the same way about that symbolism. Maybe, maybe not. Everybody is different and their brains don't work the same way.

Number two problem I have with the common misconceptions relayed in the "dream dictionaries" is that people can get a completely distorted idea of what a dream is trying to tell them. I believe that our dreams are a kind of safety net for us, a place to practice scary situations, a safe stage for us to act out unfamiliar or threatening scenarios that would not be possible or "safe" in real life. And I believe that our dreams tell us (or attempt to) when we are screwing up or if we need to look at our behavior or habits in a different way. I have had dreams in my life that have alerted me to situations that I was not dealing with or in denial about. They (dreams) can be a kind of emotional police that look out for your well-being.

If you are like me you don't often remember your dreams but when you do they seem to come in droves, like every day for a couple weeks and then not at all for a period. I always try to remember my dreams and if it is feasible or possible, I try to record them. Sometimes you will become aware of patterns in your dreams. When that happens, you can pretty much count on the idea that your subconscious is determined to get your attention.

So, even though that first paragraph is mostly malarkey (where in the hell did that word come from?) I will help to figure out the meaning of the dream. I wish I could share it with you, it's intriguing.

Hey, if you ever have a dream that you can't quite figure out, I will be more than happy to help you look at it from another perspective if I can. I'm fascinated by dreams. Please don't ask me to help you figure out why you keep dreaming that you're flying naked through your high school gymnasium, though. I got other things to do...

We lost another Great today. Wilson Pickett died in Virginia at age 64 of a heart attack. Ol' Mustang Sally will never sound the same...

STHTTMMS: On the walk into work this morning from the parking lot, it was very quiet. The stars were still out and the moon was bright. The air smelled so clean and fresh, it almost felt like Spring.

WE'RE COMIN' OUT

After a "grandkids" weekend, let me tell you I know a little more about Super Heroes than I ever had a good reason to. Namely Batman who I always thought was a bit gay, hanging out in a cave with the femininely named "Robin", both in tights and speaking in rather gruff voices which sounded to me like they were trying too hard. Don't get me wrong, I love gay people just like I love everybody else. I'm just questioning the rationale of putting them in the category of Super Heroes. But anyway, that got me thinking. That's your cue, Reader, to put on your thinking cap. If I could be (or even wanted to be) a Super Hero(ine), what would I look like, what would my name be and what special powers would set me apart from the masses? This is your assignment for tonight or tomorrow if you need to think about it and come back.

Well, obviously since I am a Super Heroine, I am a ro-busty Amazon (not to be confused with the shopper's mecca) with a waistline the same circumference as my neck. My legs are three times the length of yours and start right under my teeny rib cage. I've got gobs and gobs of glossy blue-black hair that flies like ravens around my pretty little head. You would die to have my cheekbones or to get lost in my dreamy, deep, ocean-green-pools where my eyes should be. And that teeny snip of a turned up nose crinkles ever-so demurely when I flash my pearly white teeth framed by luscious red Angelinalips. I think my name will be Night Raven. Ok, it's lame.

Let me see now. Getting dressed is the fun part. Think I'll go with a black-on-black look. The shiny black boots with stilletto heels grace the tops of my thighs. I think I'll go with a covered bodice which rises up to meet a thick black choker emblazoned with golden studs around my neck. A belt that matches and measures about twelve inches girds my waist. Those same golden studs bedeck the long black gloves I wear that reach almost to my shoulders and also on the band I wear around my forehead. Woo Hoo, whaddya think? I'm torn between an itty-bitty little pleated skirt or plain boy-shorts. Think I'll go for the skirt. After all, comfort, I believe, is in the forefront of every Super Heroine's mind when she is fighting Evil Forces. A cape, maybe, depending on the weather. I'm thinking a nice ebony ermine.

I will jump tall buildings in a single bound. I will soar into the sky at the speed of light and rescue men, women and children alike from perils too perilous to mention here. I will rescue scared little puppies from storm drains and kitties from tall trees. But what I really want to do is this: I want to make men beg for mercy at my feet.

That's all for tonight. Morning comes so quickly.

Have a good one. ;-)

LAY IT DOWN CLOWN

Sorry homeys, I'll not be posting tonight. Get over it. I have other responsibilities which preclude my blogging. But since you came here anyway and I can't have you making a wasted trip, please tell me something you did today just for yourself (Watch it Mike, we have minors coming here. Wait, oh no we don't. Just be tasteful.)

Jeff, so glad you're back in the picture, we need to catch up. I'm fine, actually feel pretty good, kind of "cleansed" if you will. Had a couple cravings today that rivaled the intensity of the chase scene in The French Connection.

If you don't leave words, I will be upset and I will track you down. (Did you see that, I used italics!)

Have a good night all.

TINY PIECES

Yeah, I'm pickin' em up today. But before I go there, I wanna say thank you from the bottom of my achy breaky heart to all of you in my little circle here that I've come to love and rely on. I originally thought it was kind of funny that (if you notice), with the exception of Simon, I chased away all my male readers with this "Oooooh, Scary Female Stuff!" posting. But I have since been consoled and reassured by just about everybody either through email or IM. What a great bunch of friends I've made here. I wish I could get you all in a room together so we could all have a group hug. Am I making you gag yet? Oh, and what do we think this says about Simon and the size of his testic- um... heart?

*Sound of large sigh being heaved* I feel about 63% better. What my sister (The Greatest Aunt) said in yesterday's comments really made sense and I feel less like I had a breakdown and more like I was performing necessary maintenance. And I was holding a lot in and it did need to come out. Was just really scary when I couldn't calm down. I'm not good when I'm not in control.

Are we all like that? What made this odd for me is that normally I don't turn to other people for help with problems. I'm not even sure why I posted about the whole ordeal. I think it was a combination of thinking "This is my damn diary and I'll write what I want" and "Gee, I wonder what would happen if I got REALLY personal on my blog?". In actuality though, I think it was probably just home-fried desperation. At any rate I feel better. And I learned a little something too, and it's that you (I) don't have to hold things in and (try to) deal with them by your(my)self. See, a girl is never too old to learn shit. Just to wear short skirts and a bikini chain. ;-)

I need not remind you to take time today to honor the Reverend Martin Luther King Jr. in whatever respect you see fit. He made the world a better place for us all.

STHTTMMS: Realizing that the world isn't really that big after all.

GSL: "I'm not talking 'bout movin' in and I don't wanna change your life. But there's a warm wind blowing the stars around and I'd really love to see you tonight." I'd Really Love to see You Tonight, England Dan and John Ford Coley 1975. Oh my gawd, the haircuts...

RQ: "We must learn to live together as brothers or perish together as fools."- Martin Luther King Jr.

Thanks again ***

ALL SHOOK DOWN

Something bad happened. I was warned. The books say that when a woman reaches a certain point in her life, if she's got unresolved issues, loose ends, that kind of thing (and tell me, what woman doesn't???) she's headed for a crash. Not just a bad day or an uncomfortable week or a period of anxiety and instability, but an all-out, no-holds-barred crash-and-burn kersplatt on the old pavement of life.

I was a little edgy last night. Wanted a cigarette and was feeling restless. Had a glass of wine. Then another. Watched SNL. Everybody went to bed. I was not tired. Worked on a post and couldn't get it to say what I wanted. Thoughts of a thousand other things kept swirling around in my head. I re-read my last post which was about changing things, shaking things up a bit. The more read the more discouraged I got and ended up only able to see what a series of frustrations and disappointments that my life is made up of. I'm not whining. If you hear it that way, quit reading NOW. You don't want to be here and I don't want you here and don't even think of talking to me about it. I'm not even going to go into it. If you know me and we have talked seriously, you know what my life consists of. You also know the good things I have in my life and that I rely on them heavily to get me through the other stuff.

Anyway, all at once EVERYTHING just came down on me and I thought of how easy it would be to just let it all bury me. To just let it all eat me up and spit me out. To give up and give in and quit fighting it. I have never felt so alone in my entire life. That is not an alien emotion for me but I never felt it that deeply. It is not an unusual feeling for us (all); when you get right down to it we all come into this world by our lonesome and that's the state we leave in too. The darkest times in our lives I think are when we feel the most alone.

I am not one to normally deal with things entirely. Over the past, say 10 years, I haven't really dealt with anything head-on and in a way one would consider completely. I don't give myself the time I should to mourn a death or any other life-changing event. Mostly because I can't seem to be able to escape the mainstream long enough to take care of those things. As a result, I got lots and lots of issues on a back burner, simmering. Once in awhile I'll give them a stir but mostly just rely on the smoke detector to alert me if things get too hot or start to smoke. Maybe I neglected to check the battery, I don't know. But "things" were coming to a rolling boil and I had no warning. And wouldn't you know, in the middle of a mild January night near the beginning of 2006, the lid blew off the pot and all the bubbling, festering shit I had in that pan just spewed out all over. And I didn't have a thing to clean it up with. So I just broke down and I cried. And I cried and I cried until I couldn't cry anymore.

After awhile I got calmed down and was pretty drained and went to bed. Sleep was not in the cards. I couldn't get my head cleared out and as I lay there everything started closing in again. I got up and had another drink and hoped I wasn't going to feel like hell when I got up on top of the condition my head was in already. Exhaustion finally came and I went to sleep thinking and wondering how I let things get so bad and how will I ever get past this.

I was drained when I got up this morning and no one commented but I'm sure I looked a bit ravaged and kinda rough around the edges. Just feeling kind of numb now. So much for turning over a new leaf. I don't feel like I have what it takes to even turn a page let alone initiate a new chapter in my life. Maybe this will all work out. Baby steps they say. I wonder if I had seen this coming if there was something I could have done that would have made a difference. I thought I was handling things halfway decently without the cigarettes. I think that feeling alone thing was what really did it though. I've been going there a lot lately (to my alone place) for solace. And maybe I let too much stuff pile up outside the door. I will work through this. Please don't expect a lot from me in the near future. I'm a big girl, I'll be fine.

On a lighter note, I really enjoyed the kid's visit. It was nice and relaxed. We decided not to run around a lot, so there was virtually no stress. And wonder of all wonders, Baby JuJu slept through the night. But I'll let JuJu tell you that.

New Feature starting today, Relevant Quotations, or RQ: "Why do you hasten to remove anything that hurts your eye, while if something affects your soul, you postpone the cure until next year?" - Horace

DOSE OF THUNDER

What ridiculous weather we're having for this time of year. Rain? Thunder? No snow though. Oh Lord, I broke a rule. Just a personal rule, but a rule nonetheless. I swore at the onset of my blogging career that I would never stoop to posting about anything so mundane as the weather. Just goes to show ya...

In an effort to redeem myself, let me share something way more interesting and blogworthy.

I am making an announcement here tonight, er, this morning rather. Been thinking a lot lately about my age, my life, my choices, my mistakes. The odds of me being around 20 years from now could be about 50-50. Maybe a bit more, maybe less. I have pissed away a good chunk of my life being cautious, responsible, thrifty, timid, any number of self-defeating adjectives, not all simultaneously but at intervals (critical) enough to make a difference in whether I lived a meaningful, productive and gratifying life or simply existed. My scale is tipping dangerously in the direction of the latter. That is a very hard pill to swallow; to look at your life, more than half used-up, and realize you have not yet made a difference. Well ladies and gentlemen, I am here to tell you now, there are going to be some changes made here. First thing I am going to do is to quit smoking, get myself an iPod and start training for a new job. Ha! If you are paying attention, you will notice that I've already started. Actually I didn't intend it to work this way but it sounds like I've been planning this for some time and already have accomplished the first three things on my list. I say we let it seem that way. Now my next endeavor is to start an exercise routine and make my body awesome for the vacation I am planning for later this year. I have never been on a "solo" trip (with friends) but have my husband's blessings, so I'm going to enjoy it like nobody's business. And between now and then I am going to find a way to make every moment count. I'm tasting more tastes, smelling more smells. I plan to see more sights, feel more feelings, hear more sounds and live more life. Fifty is not going to get me down, no sir.

Maybe not a dose of thunder exactly but at least a little rumble. I will share the good and the bad of my "new leaf" with you, my friends. What I need to ask from you, though is this. If you see me getting caught up in daily/mundane/trivial/petty/routine/self-defeating/fraidy-cat behaviors, give me a good swift kick in the butt and a stern (but loving) talking-to, wouldja please?

STHTTMMS: The kids are here, my house is full and I am content as heck.

GSL: "Maybe there is a God above / But all I've ever learned from love was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you. And it's not a cry that you hear at night, it's not somebody who's seen the light. It's a cold, and it's a broken Hallelujah" from Hallelujah by Jeff Buckley.

Disclaimer: I know I said I would not be here today. I lie from time to time. Not big lies, not even little lies. Inadvertant lies. You see, I did not anticipate being wide awake with nothing to smoke, er, I mean do at 2 am while everyone else is asleep. The logical thing to do for me, was Blog.

MEET ME DOWN THE ALLEY

No particular reason for this post, consequently no particular reason for the title. Don't imagine I'll be needing it for inspiration at any time in the future. So I'll use it today. It feels right.

By the way, in case any of you cared, I got that contact out of my head. And the pod is still sitting on my desk, empty. We glare at one another every so often. He's winning, sad to say.

I broke a tooth today eating one of those yummy stupid Mary Jane candies in the red and yellow wrapper. Not recommended.

JoJo brought the Lifehouse cd today for me to listen to. What a sweetie. Hanging on a Moment is just so cool, especially with the vroooom vrooom motorcycle. I love it.

I can honestly say that I have not had one crave today for a smoke. Which is pretty effin' amazing considering that I was entertaining the thought of killing for one the past two days. Also, I am a little wee bit sad to report that those new 7 pounds seem to have disappeared. I was kind of looking forward to holding on to them. Sometimes I fantasize about having a "womanly" figure as opposed to whatever you call this that I do have.

My husband (you'd love him, really!) shamed me into dropping this bomb- *deep cleansing breath* Ready? *exhale* I'll not be posting for the next couple of days since the grandkids will be visiting and I must "get my priorities in order". Like I would actually take time away from them to sit here and bang on this keyboard for the enjoyment of myself and a bunch of strangers, for crying out loud. What must he think I was thinking??? Actually, maybe it's better this way. I seem to be intimidating all the lurkers out there. (I imagined that it would be embarrassing to invite lurkers to delurk and not have any response. But I had no idea it would be this humiliating. If you were my real friends, you would make up some crap and sign it anonymously just to make me feel good.)

While I am on the subject, may I say how fun and rewarding this blogging thing has been for me in the short time I've been at it (since Thanksgiving). You are the best readers I could ever ask for and you make me laugh and you make me strong and you make me, um, write. Maybe someday we can do one of those online party things. (Simon, you're in charge of dip, Darling.)

Too tired to do the Capital letter abbreviations and the :s Thanks for understanding.

Nighty night! :-) zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzsnorezzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...

MUSIC IS MY LIFE

Since music is just about the only thing these days that can keep my mind off lighting up, let's talk about that. Not the pod, just the jams. I can't talk about the pod without wanting to smoke.

I never really explained how I am with music. It is a passion that borders on obsession. If I woke up tomorrow and there was no more music in the world, I would be hard pressed to find a reason to go on living. Of course I exaggerate but what would life be like in a tuneless world?

I have loved music since as far back as I remember. My dad bought me a transistor radio when I was in first grade. He bought me an AM/FM radio when I was fourteen. In between there somewhere I got a record player and began spending my allowance on 45rpm records (did I lose anybody there?) like nobody's business. But FM changed my world. Dad got me a cassette recorder and I made tapes of all the music I found on FM radio which was SO much cooler than AM. When I was in high school, he got me a stereo with headphones and I thought I died and went to heaven the first time I listened to Smoke on the Water with headphones. Needless to say, I spent a lot of time in my room with the music. I never really got into the music all my friends listened to. Stuff like The Jackson Five, Barry Manilow, ewwww... Even back then I was the one digging through the bargain bins buying piles of records with a hole punched in them because they didn't sell somewhere else. I wish I could remember some of the artists and titles that I listened to. There was one Irish guy with fuzzy hair that I listened to over and over called David McWilliams. Guess he never got famous.

I have never gotten away from music like a lot of people (especially women) my age. And I will give anything a chance. When I was in art school I rode with a kid and he would pick me up every day blasting the likes of The Dead Milkmen, Violent Femmes, The Ramones, Circle Jerks, you name it. I guess you could say I have a pretty well-rounded exposure. (That sounded risque, apologies) I even went through a siege with Country music. I got pukey sick of it but I have about a thousand cds if anyone is interested.

A couple years ago I also got sick of mainstream radio and gave that up. The music wasn't good enough to make up for all the advertisements and crap. I would listen to public radio instead. But after awhile, I just got so that I relied on cds and my record store. I would buy what friends had recommended or just whatever looked interesting. There are 4 or 5 music magazines I read. If I read more than a couple good reviews of something or come across something that really sounds interesting, I will buy on those recommendations. These days, you rarely will see me without my backpack full of ten or so cds that I'm listening to on any given day. Luckily I have a job right now that affords me the opportunity to pop on a set of ear buds and work to music all day if I want. Helps me get through the day more often than not.

I was going to list some of the music I've really gotten into over the past few months but I got real shit to do and must get off here. And I was having such a good time. What am I saying, this shit is real too.

STHTTMMS: JuJu told me that Baby JuJu is waving now and that they may be coming for a visit this weekend :-))))))))))))))))))))))

GSL: You need to help me Reader with these lyrics. The song I think is called "Babylon", Awesome Song but don't know who it is. "Kickin' through the autumn leaves, turning back from home. I'm feeling so alone, climbing on the stairs. I turn around to see you there. If you want it, come and get it for crying out loud. Let go of your heart, let go of your head, Babylon..."

I Love This Song. Babble On ;-)

What does a body have to do to lure in lurkers around here?

C'MON, C'MON, C'MON

I've been working on a post that I can't quite make say what I want it to. It's the first one so far that hasn't just fallen out of my head and ended up here. (Weird visual, huh.) I type a few lines, read it and then re-save it in Drafts. It's probly gonna be there for awhile or until I get sick of it and delete it. Hang around though, cause if I do finish it and like it, it may be a doozie.

Isn't that a cool word, "doozie"? There are a lot of words I like. And some I can't say. People at work make fun of me. Mostly, there are words that I was taught were "not nice". Some of those stuck. Otherwise, there are things that "ladies" just don't say. And since first and foremost, if nothing else, I am, a Lady. Consequently, I cannot say (or type) d---o, d--g, and two or three others. I don't know why I'm telling you this. Are there words you can't or won't say? The girls at work spent all last Spring teaching me to say "beaver". I still hesitate, but I can get it out. But I will never, ever say the n word and the f word that have two g's in the middle.

I'll never forget once in Art school. I was 32 and everyone else in the class was 18 or so, mostly boys. They were discussing a certain girl who we all considered a "twit". They would never let me forget that I said, "Ah, she's a tw-t." Yes, there's a bit of difference.

There's still an open invitation to the lurkers. You're more than welcome. But I need to run. Make yourself at home. :-)

STHTTMML: Simon's poem from yesterday and the fact that neither of us could find a good musical personality that rhymed with "-assy" other than Shirley Bassey...

GSL: All the words to "Hanging by a Moment" by Lifehouse. I heard this song today for the first time in ages and it is one good song.

HERE COMES A REGULAR

Excellent song by the way...

I understand that in the Blogosphere we seem to be celebrating the Second Annual DeLurking Week. I wrote DeLurking like that,( not so much out of ignorance, this being my first celebration of DeLurking week and all,) but because I think my way looks classy. Class is what it's all about, after all.

So I guess the rule is that you can't read my post today unless you comment, no matter who you are. Got that, Cher? (Just checking, did you know Cher reads Rude Cactus???). If you are a regular, I will expect no less than your usual witty, intelligent, heart-felt comments. If you are a first-time speaking mime, be sure to surprise me. If no one speaks up at all, I will cry. And like I haven't been doing enough of that lately...

Tell me what you like and don't about my site. Tell me your "quit smoking" stories. Tell me lies, tell me to take a hike. Just don't tell me how many freakin' songs you have on your iPod, I don't wanna hear it.

I will tell you this- I am SO impressed, yet again, that Paul Westerberg even had a song title for this post today. That dude totally rawks.

STHTTMML: Did I tell you my dream over the weekend was interrupted by a little blue box that popped up in the lower right-hand corner alerting me that a contact had just signed in? Swear to God. I woke up immediately. And laughed.

GSL: "I propose a toast to my self-control. See it crawling, helpless on the floor." from Cure for Pain by Morphine.

SATELLITE

I had no idea how I was ever going to be able to use this song title for a post since I'm so not into Space and Shit. But just now I "needed" to post since I'm having a really bad crave and need to remove my brain from that mode to an occupied one. I thought how satellites bounce things off and figgered, hey, I'll bounce some random thoughts around. Seemed like an excellent idea...

For anyone who is considering watching Wedding Crashers, I have this to say to you. The concept of the movie is downright genius. I guarantee that if you watch it, at some point in your viewing you will ask yourself why you never considered a career in nuptial celebration invasion yourself. John and Jeremy, who pose as unlikely brothers in the movie have the whole crashing thing honed down to a perfect science. They have determined the odds accurately enough as to whether the bride is a crier, what finger foods will be served at the reception, you name it. John can look at a beautifully wrapped wedding gift and surmise exactly what the box contains based on size, shape and weight. I have been to weddings that would have benefitted from the attendance of these two Life-of-the-Party dudes. At first I had trouble imagining the pairing of Owen (Wilson) and Vince (Vaughn) but was actully surprised that they played well off each other. Of course the story is a bit hokey and predictable but if you don't raise your expectations too high, you'll find enough humor in it to say it wasn't a total waste of time. Christopher Walken, a favorite of mine, is true to form and perfect for his part.

By the end of today, there should be no more Christmas cookies, stale or otherwise in my home. I must impart though, that they have been life-savers on more than one occasion during my quest for a smoke-free existence. They will be sorely missed. I have one more unopened box of chocolates under the tree. Do not, for the sake of your children and your children's children dare to find yourself anywhere near the path between me and it.

I have proof that I am spending too much time on the computer. I was sound asleep at 8:45 this morning, deep in a dream. Not a great dream, not a bad dream, just a run-of-the-mill can't-remember-anything-particularly-outstanding dream. All of a sudden, in the lower righthand corner of the "screen" of my dream, a little blue box popped up announcing that a contact had just signed in. I woke up just as readily as I would had my alarm clock buzzed me awake.

I finally tracked down the book I've wanted about the Art of Face Reading. It is ordered and I am looking forward to it's arrival at my door. I am really anxious, I think it will be really fun and interesting to learn. Although, I'm hoping not to lose interest, which is my normal scheme. If I had a dollar for every subject I've attempted to master and lost interest along the way, I'd be rolling in it. As I result, I have a teeny bit of knowledge about a zillion subjects but am a master of nothing. I know a bit of Spanish, a bit of Japanese, a bit of Francais. I can read and write Russian but can't carry on a conversation. I can do some body work on a car. I can wire a light switch. I know maybe more than your average Joe on the street about wines but not nearly what I would like. I can hold my own on Jeopardy but the final question stumps me probably 90% of the time. (That pisses me off cause about 50% of the time, I knew the answer, it just would't come to me.) I've taught myself Calligraphy. I started to learn the guitar years ago. Got my callouses and gave it up. Stew-pid. I could go on and on, But I'm getting bored with it, so I'm quitting. Prematurely. Subjectus Interruptus.

I find myself talking about me more often than I'd planned when I started this blog. They tell writers though, to write what you know about. That might explain it. Although don't for a second think that I consider myself a writer. That would be funny. But see, I'm not big into current events. I hate sports with about the same amount of passion that I love music. Religion is kind of a private subject for me. I could talk about my grandkids non-stop for days but that would get old for you, my Readers. The weather is no fun to write about. I know a good deal about art but how much can you say? That's an individual thing too. And since I don't know how to post pictures yet, you wouldn't know what I was talking about anyway. So as long as you don't get sick of me, I'll go on as I have to date. We can talk about you too (U2!). Feel free to interject at anytime. And if you ever want to know anything about me, ask.

STHTTMMS: I found a little slip from a fortune cookie that I'd gotten awhile ago. (I can't throw those things away. They don't take up much room anyway...) It said "The man who has no imagination has no wings." It reminded me of how the ability to dream and pretend makes my life so much more interesting. A friend once shared his opinion that God gave us talents to keep ourselves amused (with). I had never looked at it in just that way. It made me smile.

GSL: "Well, she's kind of like an artist, sittin' on the floor. Never finishes, she abandons; Never shows a soul. " from Achin' To Be by The Replacements.

SOMETHING IS ME

This isn't an entertainment post and it probly won't interest my Readers anyway. But it is the weekend and nobody reads here so it's not a big deal. This is more therapy for me but I will try to make it a little bit interesting just in case you are reading.

I may or may not have alluded to the fact that I am turning 50 in a few months. Chances are I have mentioned it, it's not something anyone-especially if it is Me- can just disregard. It's kind of like having the Hindenberg hanging over your head. You can't just pretend it's not there. I don't think any of my Readers are anywhere near even conceiving of the idea what it might feel like to be looking down the barrel of a big Five-Oh. It actually is the number that is bothering me more than the physical state of being alive for fifty years. The first one of you who says "That's half of a century" is going straight to hell, no questions, so shut your unlined little mouth.

There's no way I'm this old. Sure my body and my face may look it but my mind has never matured past late puberty. It's really funny though, I often feel like I've already started the "full circle" thing you've heard old people refer to. I often catch myself talking and acting like a fourteen-year-old. I drive worse (ok, faster) than I did at sixteen. And I certainly play music as loud as, if not louder than I did then. My music collection rivals the one I owned then. I wore bell-bottom jeans at 13. I'm wearing them again except they're called "flares" now. Now they're called low-rise, then they were hip huggers. I have shoes in my closet that aren't any more sensible than the ones I wore in high school. Some are just as dangerous. I pay about the same amount of attention to the rules as I did then too. Now though, it's not as much about rebellion as it is experience. The similarity though is that I thought the rules were dumb then and I think they're dumb now. I didn't give myself credit for being ahead of my time.

My face still breaks out, I still get cramps. I still hate shaving. I still run up and down the steps. I still spend my extra cash on music and books and make-up. Some things never change. Some do. I no longer drop what I'm doing and run to answer the phone. I don't usually blush when I'm talking to guys. If I'm home on a Saturday night, it's by choice. I don't write in my diary and lock it up and bury it under my mattress. Now I put it on the Internet for the whole freakin' world to see. Go figure.

There are good things about being my age. Very good things. It's only been very recently that I've become aware of many of them. I believe around this age you develop a kind of uber-awareness of yourself and how you relate to the immediate world around you. I'm just speaking for me, but I hope it's a universal woman-thing because it's really cool. If you're my age and reading this and aren't identifying, maybe there is something wrong with you ;-).

I'm positive that my hormones are behind whatever this transformation is. And they bloody-well owe me something after the hell and havoc thy have been wreaking on me for the last few years. Like to make you think you're a lunatic. The sooner you can part with the dam things I think the better off you are. They're complicated little bastards that just lurk in your insides and play games. Back to what I started to say...

The good things... I am feeling more comfortable with me. As an adult, I never thought that I wasn't but I am aware of "fitting into me" better. I accept my faults for what they are and they no longer feel like things that need fixed. They're just there and part of me. My limitations, I can accept. I no longer feel the need to overcome, to find ways to compensate. They are now just things I can't do. So what. I never really needed to do a cartwheel. I am not as compelled to please people who have no special significance in my life. I appreciate the people who are special to me more than I ever did. I have become more stingy with my time and fill it more with things I enjoy. I am more relaxed. I'm learning exactly what I can change about my life and what I can't. A lot of things just aren't important and it's not so hard to differentiate between what is and what isn't. I used to worry what other people thought about me. I still care but I don't worry. Some days I care more, some days I say "what the hell". It's good to have choices. Very soon I want to start a good exercise program. Of all the things I'm giving up worrying about, the way I look is not going to be one of them. And I'd like to be around when I'm sixty. That should be a lot of fun. By then I won't give a rat's ass about any thing at all!

STHTTMML: I watched Wedding Crashers. Not a normal choice for me but I laughed my butt off more than once. I love Owen Wilson. I want him to be my brother.

GSL: "How do you numb your skin after the warmest touch? How do you slow your blood after the body rush? How do you free your soul after you've found a friend? How do you teach your heart it's a crime to fall in love again?" from Insensitive by Jann Arden 1994