The latest news on me...

So I got the new laptop finally.  I bought a mac.  It's the weirdest thing, but I really think I'm gonna love it.  The graphics are unbelievable!!  Awesome!  I'm having a bit of a time learning the operating system, and you know why?  It's TOO easy!  I keep expecting things to be more complicated than they are... so I'm chasing my arse alot only to find out that the thing has already done it for me... I'm loving it.

I've started crocheting again.  I'm going to start another blog about my crochet... absolutely no idea why, I think I might be bored.  This whole divorce and no life thing is for the birds.

Speaking of birds, Amelia did lay one more egg for a total of three!  She's a good Mom... she almost never leaves that nest.  (Especially since I'm feeding her apples every day.)  It's pouring the rain this morning, and there she sits... practically swimming in the flowerbox... never moving.  She doesn't give me those evil looks anymore.  And she hasn't pooped on the porch railing anymore, either.  I think we're becoming good neighbors.  Maybe I'll babysit or something.

I've decided I'm not going out today.  I'm actually having a good hair day, and the weather is horrible.  If I go out, it will ruin my hair.  Of course, if I stay in, it's pointless to have good hair, isn't it.  Oh yeah... I have WAY too much time on my hands these days.

I watched the movie, "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" last night.  Have you ever loved someone so much that when it was over, it hurt so badly that you'd be willing to have them completely erased from your mind?  I would have said that I'd do it until I saw the movie.  I've changed my mind.  I'm allowed to do that.  To forget the bad, you'd have to forget the good, too.  I kinda like hanging on to the good.  I'm not willing to let it go.

So... what's been up with you?

Meet my new neighbor.  I'm going to call her Amelia.  (Obviously she landed in the WRONG place)  Amy, for short.  I've convinced myself she's a robin princess... exhiled from the realm of wings for loving the wrong bird and has been forced to build a home in which to raise her baby birds here in the world of humans.  It has to be something dramatic like that.  Why else would a bird choose to build her nest two feet from a human's front door?

I open my front door.  She doesn't twitch.  She merely turns her head to look at me.  I get the feeling that she's thinking, "Don't you knock?", as if I'm not stepping out of my house, I'm rudely stepping into hers.  It's that royal snobbery that leads me to believe Amy is more than just the new bird on the block.  I can see in her eyes she's trying to convince herself she moved into the right neighborhood... that the human habitat isn't so bad.  That's why she got the place so cheap, after all.

So she's all settled in, nesting... probably knitting booties or something late in the evening... patiently awaiting the birth of her young.  And I'm no longer worried about my dying daisies.  Instead I'm reading up on what robins eat.  I found out they don't like seeds.  They'll eat berries or apples... or mealworms.  I'm not getting her worms, but I will do the apple thing, maybe... I guess... depends on how far down that beak she looks at me when I leave the house this morning.  (ok... I'll do it anyway... we all know that!)

~Wonder how long it'll take her to get the nerve to ask me about good schools in the community?~

I walk outside every morning, barefoot and barely awake.  I think I do that to let the chill of the morning shock me into consciousness... not sure.  Anyway... a few days ago, I walked outside to say good morning to the world... see what the neighbor cows were doing... and I noticed bits and pieces of debris in my flowerbox.  I really didn't think anything of it... where I live it would perfectly normal for the wind to blow things into the flowerbox getting it tangled with the leaves of my daisies.  So I cleaned it out, wished the cows a good day, and got ready for work.

Next day, I went outside to begin my daily routine.  This time there was no denying what was going on because it was made obvious to me.  I'm thinking he wasn't too happy about me destroying his hard work.  I really didn't mean to do that.  This time not only had he carried the material for his house, but he'd burrowed half way down into the dirt to place it just right!  I'm getting a new neighbor... what kind of bird, I have no idea, but he's determined to build a nest in my gerber daisies.  And he's killing them.  What do I do about it?  Apparently nothing.  I don't have the heart.

So I get up this morning... go outside.. blah blah blah... morning, cows... morning, world.... and dang if my porch hasn't become prime real estate!  My other flower box has TWO of those little burrowed holes inbetween my flowers!!  What am I gonna do?  If I go out today and buy a birdhouse, will they move there instead?  Why would they pick my porch?  I'm out there alot!  I thought they were afraid of humans!  I don't even know what kind of bird it is!

This is very distressing.  Little birds need homes... but do they need to kill my precious precious flowers?!?!  I can't survive the daily grind without coming home to my relax surrounded by my little makeshift garden.  I'm torn.  The flowers, though quite obviously upset by this onslaught to the neighborhood, I can fix... but the birds??  I know nothing about birds. 

Maybe I should ask the cows... they know the neighborhood well enough~

Ladybugs and boys... juleps and jujubes.

When I was a little girl my Dad was gone from home for work alot.  Not so much as is sometimes required from Dads today, but it was alot to us.  I remember him being gone on business for days sometimes.

We lived on a farm... or rather we lived on the outskirts of one... my grandparents' horse farm.  My parents had been given the land as a wedding gift.  I'm thinking it was given to them so they'd be around to help on the farm!  I was fine with that.  The land that separated the two houses was used for gardens.  Right down the center of it was a path that had been worn out with time from one house to the next.  I ran that path every single day.  I ran when I was a tiny girl because I was always that excited to get to my Grandfather.  I ran it when I got older because somehow the farmgirl grew up so seriously afraid of snakes that seeing your typical garden snake would make me faint dead away. 

Just on the other side of the path past the gardens was my favorite part of the fields.  I sat there for hours and hours looking for four leaf clovers and playing with the ladybugs.  My older sister could just walk up and look down.  There would be a four leaf clover.  I had to search and search.  Of course I'd get distracted by whatever ladybug family  had come to play that day.  Those little red spotted bugs would hang out with me all day long.  Now I wonder why they never just flew away.  Back then it was just understood they never would.

When the gardens were in, you couldn't see my house from that field.  But I knew when my Daddy came home.  It was just a feeling I'd get... he was home.  I'd go running back down the path and sure enough, there he'd be... cleaning out his truck... home.  He always brought us something.  Now with four kids, that usually meant some sort of candy or gum...  but he NEVER came home without four surprises.  Most of the time, it was jujubes.  Living on a farm, you only get so long to hug and kiss on the men before they're off to work at something else.  This was the case with my Dad.  So after the kissing and silent prayers that Mom wouldn't tell him whatever havoc we'd caused over the previous few days, back to our own little worlds we'd go.  For me, that meant my little green box of jujubes and I would head back down the field to the ladybugs.

Years go by and the ladybugs were replaced with boys.  Boys were always around because on a farm, there was always some wayward kid working to get money for a motorbike or some other useless item that boys just had to have way back then.  I liked looking at the boys... ladybugs forgotten, I wanted to play with the boys.

I wouldn't go into the horse barns.  Snakes... So I'd have to get one of the boys to bring out a horse when I wanted it.  Now, most of the time this was easy because, well, boys can't say "no" to girls... unless it was a time right after my Grandfather had given his lecture about them bringing out horses for us girls to ride when no one was around.  If it was that time, we'd have to use our wiles a bit.  We had no problem with that... we were girls.

Growing up around where I grew up meant horses were a way of life... just a natural part of the day, everyday.  Entering young adulthood this meant spring parties... pre and post Derby.  Any reason to celebrate a horse was good enough.  Any reason to make those disgustingly vile juleps was good enough. 

My Daddy is a very religious man.  My Grandfather wasn't.  He'd sneak around and give me tiny glasses of juleps.  I hated the stuff, but I couldn't tell him that.  In a way, I think it was some sort of right of passage he was trying to share with me.  It was only once a year.  I could suffer that much. 

Once I grew up and attended the Derby every May, it was even worse.  Then I had to pretend I liked the juleps because whatever boy I was with at the time always seemed to think it was a special thing to buy me a mint julep from the Derby!  Do you know what those things cost?  I had no choice but to drink them.  My one solace... I'd get to keep the cute commemorative glass.

I'm realizing more everyday how hard it is to be in the world of boys and juleps. 

The ladybugs were much easier to please than the boys.  The jujubes were much better tasting than the juleps... so I'm thinking...

Should I go to work... or go looking for four leaf clovers?

It's a perfect morning.  It's a crisp forty-five degrees outside.  It's going to be a beautiful day.  It's one of those mornings when you walk outside, and you can see your breath... when you inhale the cool air courses through your body hitting your lungs... bringing you to life.  And the sun is glorious!  Shining down so bright and beautiful... the warmth wrapping around you just enough to keep the chilly air at bay.  The combination puts the spring back into your step... you slip your sunglasses over your eyes, and ya can't help but think... "Yeah, I'm here, and I'm ready, and I'm hot." (or is that just me?)

It's amazing I feel this good today.  I haven't slept enough to fill a thimble, but I'm ok with that.  My positive days are coming more often lately.  I have the setbacks just like everyone, but I'm normally a very positive, ready for the world, person.  And it's earth shattering to feel that part of me slowly coming back to life.  It's so much easier to face life if you face it with the idea that each new day just might be the day to bring you everything you need.

One of the best things I've ever bought was the coffeepot with a timer.  I just don't think I'd be this positive first thing in the morning if that stuff wasn't already waiting on me the second my feet hit the floor. 

Think I'll go change my blouse.  I need something bright... pink or yellow...  I'm almost perky enough to do the tangerine thing today! (I'm totally lying... no amount of coffee is getting me there.)

Ok.... here we go.  Reality is on the line... normally I'd just let it go to voicemail, but today I'm going to answer and flirt with it a bit.  I'll just put on my glasses, smile sweetly, convince it I really am hot, and see what I can talk it in to giving me...

Maybe it will let me sleep in tomorrow if I give it what it wants today~

No sleep, bad coffee, sore shoulders, a really bad attitude... but a really cool song.

Welcome to my Wednesday.  I wasn't going to blog today, but I think if I don't I might end up hurting someone before I go to bed tonight.  I woke up bad, and it only got worse from there.

Yesterday started out wonderfully.  I had so much energy.  Everything seemed... right.  It's been a while since the last time everything was right.  But by late afternoon, everything that could go wrong, as usual, did.

And everybody always needs something.  It's never anything easy.  Everybody needs something completely different.  And it's pull and tug and grab until I'm no longer a whole person.  I just want to scream.  I want to stand out in the middle of nowhere and scream.  Five years ago, I would have.  It wouldn't have had to be the middle of nowhere.  If I felt like screaming, I would have screamed.

And they just don't get it.  They think I'm being withdrawn, I'm brooding, I'm even being cold.  They don't get that I'm being more cooperative, more thoughtful than they can possibly imagine because while I seem "not here" completely, I feel even worse.  Hey, you're getting smiles and kind words, be thankful.  What I really want to do is scream at you or not be around at all.  I don't want to be touched, smiled at, talked to.... don't be so selfabsorbed that you REALLY believe you can fix me if I'd just let you.

I want to be selfish.  I want to crawl into a dark corner and just stay there for a while.  I don't want to reassure everyone that I'll be better behaved soon.  I want to be the one getting that reassurance from  you!!  I'm soooo tired of being so busy helping the world cope with the loss of my sanity that I have no time to learn to cope with it myself.

I am such a simple person.  I'm an open book.  I don't know how to hide anything.  Being part of my life... you know who I am going in... no surprises.  So why am I making excuses for who I am after you get in here? 

I'm tired.  I'm angry.  I'm hurt.  I'm too busy hanging my head over the toiletbowl to get ready which is causing the hair day from hell.  One of two things will happen today... I'm gonna cry, or somebody's getting hurt.  I vote for #2... maybe both.  The only reason neither has happened so far... there's no one here to hurt, and I heard a really cool song on the radio that kept me from crying.

"I woke up this morning with my makeup on.

I've been faking it lately, but those days are gone.

You look at me and wonder why

I've gotta cut these strings and learn to fly

We're so glad you made it in this dead end town

Everybody's waiting for you to come down

You're gonna wake up from your dream

You're gonna find someone who looks like me

But the girl is only in your mind

She's leavin' everything behind

She's not the girl that's gonna make it right

So you can kiss that girl goodbye."

Don't worry... that's not a dedication to anyone but myself, and I'm through ranting now... have a nice day~

I stayed up too late last night, but the only parts of me complaining so far are my eyes.  Their refusal to fully open was my first clue.  And now they're all itchy and watery, and I see everything in a nice little blur.  The world really doesn't look so bad like this.

I drank my coffee out on my porch this morning.  I stood there propped up on the railing and watched my neighbors across the way... the four black cows I've come to know and love.  It's a funny little world I have going for myself here.  The more I think about it, the more it scares the hell outta me. 

I sit on my porch... at least it's a porch when I close my eyes and not some makeshift patio thingie nailed to the side of an apartment building... which is what it really is when I'm looking.  The flowerboxes helped a bit.  Flowers always help me... no matter what the ailment.

Anyway, on one side of me I have the four black cows that are sometimes much more entertainment than you'd think.  Somedays they're all standing together like a good little family.  Other days they've broken off and you can tell they're gossiping about each other just by the way two of them will stand almost against each other, heads lowered in secrecy.  Then one of them will raise its head and look over at the other pair with what I feel is a great amount of disdain.  Two of them argued face to face one day before they began headbutting each other.  It was frustrating to watch.  That's when I realized therapy was a good option.  (for me, not the cows)

There's also a train track on this side.  I hate that thing.  I hate the fact that trains go by at 2am.  I'm positive the conductor has to be an ex or something.  There's no reason to blow that stupid horn that many times in that length unless he's doing it for some sort of revenge. 

Directly behind me is a little country highway.  I say "highway" because, yes, it's paved.  It's busier than what you'd think it should be.  I know this because I'm still not used to the sound of the cars at night.  Add that to the train, and it's no wonder I stay up too late, huh.

On one side is an elementary school.  I watch the kids sometimes.  They don't look happy at recess anymore.   They just look busy... like they're trying to shove too much movement into not nearly enough time.

The other side is a car wash... boys and their toys... moms vacuuming last night's frenchfries or something.  It's fun to watch the younger men put so much time and effort into getting their cars and trucks so spotless.  It's fun because it's pretty much a guarantee they're hitting a dirt road at some point today, and all that work was just a waste of water.  I want to go down and tell them not to worry about it.  The girls are impressed by the fact they have cars at all... who cares if they're dusty.  But I don't.  I think it's a positive thing they're working at anything at all.  Most boys around here grow up to think "work" is a four letter word best said in a whisper.

I don't say anything.  I just turn back to my flowers and the cows.  I don't see one of them this morning.  Maybe they beat her up somewhere last night.  It's ok... she was a bitch, anyway.  She's fatter than the other three and she knows it... and in the cow world this is a positive thing.

Ok... so know any good therapists?

He's stressed.  Sometimes he feels like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders and doesn't know how long before he's going to buckle underneath the pressure.

He doesn't talk about it much.  He's a man.  Wonder if he thinks I don't see it.  He thinks no one really notices because he doesn't talk about it much...even his friends.  He can't admit to thinking no one would really care if they did notice.  He's a man.  You're supposed to have all the world's devastation on your back when you're a man.  You're supposed to be able to fix it, too.  At least he thinks so... he's a man.

Sometimes he seems so fragile... dealing with everything so quietly... he's still just a boy.  Every man... deep down inside... maybe they're all still just boys.  They wouldn't admit it because they're men.  It's ok to act like a boy on the outside, but inside, they swear they've become men.

It's perfectly fine for him to try to fix everything for everyone, but he can't handle it when the topic is about the boy.  It's sweet how he turns the focus from him when he starts to get uncomfortable with someone knowing too much.  I'd never tell him it's sweet.  He would argue if you told him how grey the world becomes when he withdraws.  That man just doesn't get how beautiful the world is when he laughs.

He doesn't have to talk about it.  He can smile and turn away before his brow creases again.  He'll get around to reading this.  The little boy in him will want to ask if it's about him.  The man in him will try not to because he doesn't want to know that it is... even though the man already knows.

Sometime today, the man will have to smile an emotionally vacant smile.  The boy will go as far as to laugh a fake laugh.  Together, they'll be sure no one notices the difference between the real ones and the fake ones.  The boy will think about it.  The man won't.

I won't say anything about it all.  I'll smile back.  I'll laugh when he laughs.  I won't talk about what life is doing to stress him right now.  He wouldn't want me to talk about it.  It would be rude to talk about it.  He knows I know.  He knows I care.  That's enough for him.

After all, the boy is a man.

I had my hands in dirt today... loads and loads of dark rich dirt.  It felt good... it was refreshing, healing.  Geraniums, dianthus, gerber daisies, english daisies, petunias, marigolds, pansies...  my mother's yard is a fairytale now, and I'm exhausted.  But it's a good exhaustion.

Amazing how thoughtless physical labor can help to clear your mind.  I forgot to worry... forgot to think.  I've really been struggling lately with all sorts of physical and emotional handicaps.  I've forgotten who I am.  Sometimes in life we make the compromises we think we're supposed to make and before we know it, we've lost our identities.  It's not a good place to be.  But I'm not there anymore.  I've rediscovered myself lately.  So I guess even with all the complaining I do about having made the choice to come home with my tail between my legs, it's all turned out ok.  For now.

Being here around everything that reminds me of the little girl I used to be is a two-edged knife.  My mind wanders back sometimes as much as it moves forward.  Tonight on the way home, I passed a house that we used to pass all the time when I was a child.  It's a huge old white house surrounded by willow trees.  When I was a little girl it was haunted.  No one could have convinced me it wasn't.  It always looked aged but never rundown.  Nothing about it ever changed.  Nothing ever moved, and no one was ever around.  Somehow, unbelievably enough, even the grass was always the same height.  No curtain ever stirred.  No one was ever on the huge porch.  The swing never moved.  The willows never even swayed.  The sun never touched it.  There was always a creepy shade of grey around it.  It was a haunted house.  If we were driving after dark I used to make Daddy turn the overhead light on in the car right before we passed the house.  He could turn it off right after... but it had to be on as we passed.  Even in the daytime, I held my breath until we were on the other side.

Then one day... the trim was green.  Just like that.  One day we passed my haunted house, and the trim had been painted green.  And just like that... the house was no longer haunted.  I can't remember how old I was at that time... maybe I was just old enough to know... or maybe the proof of life...the green trim... really did chase away the ghosts.  There it sat tonight... no movement, no one around... the grass the same height... the trim is green.  The ghosts are gone.

So here I sit tonight... truly content with my pretty blue world... the day I had... the flowers I smelled... the earth I felt.

The ghosts are gone~

"What if I was good to you?

What if you were good to me?

What if I could hold you till I feel you move inside of me?

What if it was paradise?

What if we were symphonies?

What if I gave all my life to find some way to stand beside you?"

If you happen to be a fan of Nascar, this post will certainly offend you.

I really wish that I had the creativity and intelligence to post thought provoking material here.  I wish I had the ability to make people think and examine the world around them.  Reality is that this blog is merely a place I write to myself.  It's an added bonus that occasionally it entertains someone else.  I figure the day I start to worry about how you'll perceive me will be the day I no longer like to blog.  However, having said that, I don't set out to offend anyone.... most times I'll try to keep from doing that.  Today isn't one of those times. 

Sometime over the past few years, the redneck world has figured out that through the middle of my small town is a shortcut to one of their major cult meeting places.  Don't kid yourselves.  Nascar is a cult.  You didn't think rednecks had the intelligence for such things, did you.  Ok so you might think they'd be easy to lead off a cliff, but you didn't think they were capable of organizing the march.

I'm rambling... so anyway.  They've figured out that if they're coming down I-75 they can exit the interstate just outside my town and cut through here to make their trek much shorter.  So the past two days have been horrible for local motorists.  Every gas station, every restaurant...  Bubbas and Bubbettes galore.

I'm stopped at a gas station waiting.... caught up in my own little world, probably thinking of how gas prices are going to bankrupt me or something like that...  I don't remember what I was thinking but apparently it was deep enough that I didn't realize one of the members of the Cult of the Fast Car was speaking to me.  I came back to myself just in time to hear her mouth something about me being rude... that I could at least answer her even if I didn't know where...whatever destination she wanted might be.  I guess she'd asked several times because when I apologized and asked her to repeat the question she just rolled her eyes and said "never mind".  I turned to go when I heard her say something about this area... me being slow... I'm not really sure.  It's all hazy to me now.

What I do remember is turning and politely asking her where she lives.  She said she lives in Illinois.  I smiled and told her that while I'm sure she thinks anyone south of her has the intellect of a raisin, before she voices that opinion next time she might want to look back at herself and realize that any skillet-licking redneck riding in a convoy of RVs with the phrase "Bristol or Bust" painted on their windows just might want to be careful what she says about the ignorance of anyone else around her.  Before I caught my breath I added, "By the way... eat many pork rinds lately?"

Ok... so the look she gave me made me think I was surely about to get my arse kicked... and I remember thinking I was going to have to take off my heels.  Amazingly enough, she didn't say a word.  She huffed, rolled her eyes, and climbed back into the RV.  I could have sworn I saw a Skoal ring on her jeans.  Maybe it was just my imagination.  It does get the best of me sometimes. 

I knew this wasn't the week for me to be out in public.  My own hillbilly confrontational ways are showing.  I do understand the appeal of this thing to the drivers.  I mean, after all... boys and their toys.  But the people in the stands for hours and hours watching... praying for a really cool pileup... I'm sorry.  I don't get it.  I have one word for you...

~THERAPY~