Saying yes...

It feels like you should have known...

I had one of those days a number of months back... one of those days where you know you should probably just stay under the covers. I had a new painting class starting. Most of the usual suspects were going to be missing this session due to travel or health issues. Actually, we were all supposed to be missing this session since the newer powers that be had held hard and fast to the "must meet minimums for a class to run" rule. I had warned and warned some more... class was not going to happen as we were only going to have 5 people. I wasn't that worried, knowing enrollment would pick up for future sessions. I was actually looking forward to a break. I needed some extra freedom in my schedule due to other things in my life that needed my attention... but then my boss did something insane and decided to run the class... with two people, one of whom would not be able to make it due to a bad reaction to anesthesia. I had told my boss I needed the break, but no... she decided I'd be doing a lesson for one. While the person who came to class was wonderful... she really didn't want any painting instruction. It was going to be a long 6 weeks.

Anyhow, that first day, I realized I had no clean painting clothes. No problem, I had time to do a fast, small load... it was just the washer decided to stop, not once, but twice. Same for the dryer. By the time I finally got things washed, the dryer would not stay on. These are relatively new machines. It was bizarre. 4 hours later, I managed to have a damp pair of painting clothes to wear. I went to load up the car when my dogs decided jumping up on the door would be a good idea thus shutting it. Of course the door was locked. Of course the emergency key was not in its spot. Of course my house keys were inside, in my purse, with my phone, and my car fob. Of course it was starting to rain. I ditched my uber-heavy painting bag on the patio and hoofed it to work, luckily having my work key in my coat pocket. I also knew YL would get home before me, so she'd have her keys... I'd get back inside. I just didn't think of what it would look like to her when she got home. There'd be my purse, phone, keys, etc, on the table, and my painting bag on the patio, car in the driveway,  but no me! I came home to find a tearful YL on the phone with her father telling him I'd been kidnapped.

The day had other weirdness, but I'll briefly summarize the ending by saying the father we always joked about being a perv, was actually arrested for being a perv. All attention went to news stories about that.

Flash forward to the present. Grizzled and I had been commenting off and on how we had not heard from a longtime friend for a while. She hadn't returned my email... her landline was disconnected... not that odd as her cellphone was still taking messages, but none were returned. She was a lone wolf type so it wasn't unusual to not hear from her for a few months. Still, something wasn't sitting right. I finally remembered to enter her middle initial into a google search the other day and found out she'd been killed in a car/pedestrian accident... almost 4 months ago, on that totally messed up day. Had it not been for all of the perv news, we would have heard about the accident, would have known it was right by her place, and would have thought to check on her sooner, but we missed it. It feels so wrong to have known someone for 25 years and that they can die and you don't know it. I feel neglectful even though I know I've done nothing wrong... it's just the way it is. In this world of hyper-connectivity, we still have our space. It's a blessing and a curse. Still, I wonder, were my washer and dryer trying to tell me? Were the dogs trying to tell me? Was the universe trying to tell me?? "Hey! This day is fucked because your friend was killed this morning! Pay attention!"

Most of us don't blog anymore, or at least not like we did... and even when we were checking in daily, I always remember thinking, we were connected, but we weren't really a part of a family/friend phone tree. People could die and we'd never know... not unless we hit it lucky with a morbid google search. It seems wrong. For all of our advancements over the centuries, it seems like we should have invented a way to let people know, but no, we're not much better off than we were a hundred or more years ago when people would move to far away locales and who knew if you'd ever hear from them again... Still, it seems like we should know.

RIP Maureen.

EL showed me this...

It almost made me like them for a second...

Heed the Orb!!!

Wow...

Those of you looking for the nostalgia post, you can still find it here... I had to bump it though after seeing this... Wow.

Scarring the children...

About a month or so ago, I was talking to EL about her father, back when I first met him. I honestly don't remember the entire conversation, but was mentioning the fact that he had a large mustache... except I said, "When I met your father, he had a huge porn-stache."

My daughters are used to me being frank and slightly irreverant at times... so when I saw the horror on her face, I was trying to figure out which line I had crossed. It had to be the use of the word porn, so I apologized. She said no, it was not that, but that I should listen to what what I had said, and not think of the spelling.

Dear. Lord.

This time the look of horror was on my face. No, I said.... no, no, no... your father did NOT have a huge porn stash...

WRONG! WRONG! WRONG!

Pinko?? Delicious or Disgusting??

Perhaps they'd be better if they were encased in a hard candy shell... or, served between two slabs o' shicken (it's how the boy, whom I babysat for long ago, said it. "I want shicken and sheese!") Maybe if it was Gummi Pork Rectum. Rectum??? Damn near killed 'em! I digress... All I know is, my lamblets owe Uncle Pinko (a stranger who buys them candy) a DoD... in the meantime... discuss!

No discussing "bone-in rectums" allowed

Caption this photo...

I forgot I had taken this last spring (blurriness due to the screen).

Bat-in-Training...

In a handful of days, I turn 50. It's a fact. Yes, yes, I know, it's better than the alternative, but I have to say, it's fucking with me... not all of the time, but during those moments when my guard is down.

50...

It does not compute. 50 is my parents' age. 50 belongs to my aunts and uncles, or older siblings. I'm the baby of the family, how can I be 50???

Not to mention the fact that I'm still fighting inner wars and dramas from 15, 24, 32, 45... and probably more. Parts of me are caught up. Parts of me relish all I know now... the calm I have about certain areas of my life, but there are still parts of me that are panicking, thinking, WAIT!!! I'M NOT DONE YET!!! To be honest, in some ways, I haven't even started! But, if you're a female in the world, your shelflife is short... unless you move to the crone section. I'm allergic to dust. I don't want to move there.

Don't get me wrong... I don't need to be 25. I'm glad I'm not 25. I'm glad my children are growing and thriving and don't need me as much, OR... need me in newer, more wonderful ways, but still... 50.

I'm glad my creativity is loving that I'm 50. Although I'm no longer on the hip train of things, I see things and get things like never before, but still... 50.

My eyes are not what they were, my hair is not what it was, oh hell... nothing physical is what it was... and yet I feel like I finally understand things or have perspective on things I never have, but the joke is, it's too late. I've heard it a million times... "Oh! If only I knew what I knew now, but when I was younger!"

Heh.

Don't get me wrong. It doesn't bother me every day. It has not crippled me, but... there is a large part of me that is wondering how it happened... it's so easy to get lost in the minutiae of a day... and then another... and another, and before you know it, you're looking at those days from the other end and it freaks you out... if only for a moment.

I also know that I'll look back on this in 10, or 20 years, and will laugh. HA! You were ONLY 50!

Grizzled and I celebrated our 20th anniversary last week. While cleaning out a closet, I found a video his father had made of part of our rehearsal, our rehearsal dinner and a snippet of the reception. Somehow, we both had missed this. Somehow, it came into our possession and we had no clue! We watched it the other day, for the first time... watching people who are no longer here, people who were so much vibrant and younger. We looked at ourselves. When I looked at my 20 yr-younger self, all I could think of was, "WHAT WAS YOUR PROBLEM!??! YOU WERE FINE! WHY DID YOU LISTEN TO EVERY ASSHOLE WHO HAD A COMPLAINT?" I'm trying to tell myself that now... so I don't look back in 20 years and think, come on... life was good! You're with people you like and love! Doing more or less things you like and love! So what if your boobs are past their perky date! So what if your ass is huge! So what if you have not achieved all you want to achieve! Thank gawd you haven't! You have years to live! Years to thrive! Shut the fuck up and embrace this!

I know this. Deep down I know this...

But man... there are days when I'd like to take this back to 25... or 35... and try it knowing what I do now. I knew it then. I believe I did. I just listened to too many others, like most of us do.

Maybe I'll get myself some celebratory earplugs. :)

Sinus medicine stream of consciousness....

I've been waylaid over the past 36 hours by sinus pain of the gods. I haven't had it like this in a while, but blame record level pollen and a weather roller coaster that soars into the 90's only to plunge into the low 40's... high pressure, low pressure, high pressure, low pressure. My head gave up and so did I. I took lot of sinus medicine, something I don't really like to do, and crawled to my bed... trying to read, trying to sleep, trying to watch some TV. I've had some interesting conversations with myself. A few one-sided ones with the dogs, who were more than happy to share bed space in the middle of the day! I don't know if they get sinus headaches. If they do, they're better at managing the really bad ones than I am. I can't wag my tail and a smile hurts. I also wonder if a dog can be in a bad mood. Sure, they can be angry, they can be scared, but they don't hold grudges, they don't spew crap, they just are what they are... usually fuzzy bundles of goodness... happy for whatever is in front of them whether it's a ball, a favorite human, a fallen piece of food, a scent on the grass, or a whole scenery of scent blowing in the window. I had the window cracked for a bit, thinking fresh air might help my head, and I loved watching the dogs catch a whiff of what was going on out there. You could see them actually catagorizing it all. It was like they were watching a movie with their noses... I wanted to see a printout of every little molecule they were deciphering and what it meant to them. OK, I was actually jealous of their ability to inhale large quantities of air without pain...

After 40-some years of living with dogs, I am still amazed at their ability to just be. This is who I am (I know... what I am... but to me, they're a who) take me or leave me. I will not change my hair, I will not change my size, I will not bark like a different breed, I will not even think about how I stack up against a different breed. I will just be, and I will revel in it. You can enter me into competitions that tell me if I'm superior or not, but that's for you. It doesn't mean a thing to me. I will just be happy here... going along for the ride that is life. Scratch my rump and I'll be even happier.

People have said it in many different ways, but I'll say it again... it'd be a happier world if we took a few more lessons from dogs. I should take a lesson and be happy where I am... and I kind of am... I'm getting to spend bonus time in my island of a bed, but I mean where I live... not the people I live with. I love and like them, but the damn place where I live. The place that seems to have a pole stuck up it's ass and demands that you do the same if you want to fit in.

I wonder how many people are naturally happy with a pole stuck up their ass. Really. I mean it. How many people chose that? I know I have met some people who were definitely born with an inserted pole and they seem happy that way. More power to them... but the rest of us?? At some point we buy into the fact that we're supposed to have one, and if we don't actually have one, by gawd, you'd better act like it. Don't act as if you can move freely about your world, reveling in your choices... no... follow some strict "pole up your ass" code. It will make everyone happier... or does it?

I feel like I am surrounded by a sea of discontent... people think they're kind of happy, but they're not. They're just trying to do what they think is expected of them and then find out that usually bites them in the ass as well. Do what your parents say, do what your school says, do what your peers expect, do what the village code demands, do what your boss demands... remember, if it's wet and it's not yours... don't touch it... I'm tired of it. What's going to happen if we didn't volunteer to stick that pole up our asses?? I'm guessing not much, but I think everyone would be happier. Everyone would be happier if they weren't spending so much time wondering if they've got the right car in the driveway or if they're asked to the right parties, or worrying that they've got the damn clover out of their yard... and they probably wouldn't worry about spending a sick day or two in bed... hanging out with the dogs... the dogs who have no poles up their asses and are so at ease with themselves that they'll crap on your lawn, even if someone is watching.

No... I don't want to crap on the lawn... but maybe I'd like to metaphorically crap on the lawn a little bit more than I do. Things seemed screwed up these days, on any number of levels... I think we'd be a little better of if we removed the poles from our asses and let the country go to the dogs.

I'm going back to sleep.