April 12, 2009
At many points in my life I felt unloved or not loved in the right ways. The one thing I’m most sure of in my life right now is that I have never been loved more in ways that were so completely edifying to me. And I still feel the love that sustained me that has passed.
April 18, 2009
I want to heartily thank the person who decided to flush the toilet/start the dishwasher/start the wash machine while I was in the shower this morning. At that point I was still so asleep that I was cleansing myself with one eye closed and was in the middle of a deep condition for my back length hair, which takes approximately the same amount of time it would take me to read Moby Dick and slay the beast myself. I would like to take this sidebar to remind you that Karma is a fierce mistress and I will be courting her with a passion until she shows you the error of your transgressions.
April 20, 2009
The other day I was driving to school and I saw a really large African American man who looked completely “ghetto.” He had on his head-kerchief, his football jersey and walked with a swagger that would scare an U.S. Ranger. I drove up behind him and noticed something hanging from him hand. I looked off to his side and saw the smallest wiener dog I’ve ever seen in my life. As I drove in front of him, I watched him in my rearview mirror. He was cooing at that little dog like it was the most important thing in his life and dragging it along behind him while the poor thing tried to pee. Ah, love.
Yesterday, AJ came into the living room and yelled joyfully, “Mama! I found a caterpillar!!” I remember the joy of childhood in which a “willyworm” could be hours of entertainment. I would watch them cross roads, pass over sticks and climb trees and stare in fascination. I grew up on a farm and often the bugs and critters I would find would be the best sort of day-passing activities for a kid who didn’t have cable television. I didn’t grow up on Disney or Zoom. We had rabbit ears and fuzzy stations.
Most kids that grow up on farms get to work. I was lucky, or spoiled depending on your view, in that I didn’t. I had pet chickens, that eventually became dinner and caused me to avoid eating chicken for 18 years. I had a pet goat and a horse. Several dogs called me owner but none of them stayed around long. I played in a chicken coop and a barn and a pasture. I ate fresh berries off the vine and peas straight out of the pod. Hot watermelon opened by cracking it on the steps of the back porch still tastes best to me. Blackberries and mulberries bursting off their vines, full of luscious ripeness, call to me.
All because of the thought of a caterpillar. AJ’s enthusiasm was contagious. I watched the caterpillar creep up his arm and search for escape. “Harold” was aptly named because he or she looked like a Harold. AJ began making plans for a long and happy life with Harold in which Harold could live in his room and eat carrots and lettuce (what AJ assumed Harold would enjoy eating) and Harold could live in a tank just like fish. When I explained how this would affect Harold, AJ’s face fell. He took a minute to process him and slowly marched outside.
When he came back in he melodramatically explained to me, “I let Harold go because it would make him happy. He deserved it.”
When someone typically thinks of evil, they may consider names such as Hitler, Stalin, or even Zelda. Lately, however, the face of evil has taken a new name and a new body. Perhaps I should explain myself a little bit.
My smallest dog, Pea, is a cuddler. When I’m home, she is my shadow and is, for all purposes, attached to my hip. At night, if she can’t be near me, she will cry and whine for me. I know, I know. Spoiled doesn’t begin to cover it. She was a rescue dog and I think that I overcompensated for her past hurts by allowing her to do whatever it was that she wanted to do without fear of repercussion. Her perky personality and love of any food that looks healthy or green makes her all the more lovable.
When it’s time for bed, Pea requires at least 20 minutes of what she responds to as the word “cuddles.” It begins with her nuzzling someone under their neck with her head and then laying full body across them. When it’s time to wake up, Pea requires at least 5 minutes more of her cuddles in order to move off of the bed.
None of this is why Pea is evil. What makes her evil is what she pulls in the mornings that I have to work. When I get out of bad and immediately change out of pajamas and get ready for working, Pea knows I’m going to leave her. So, she will take her 5 minutes of cuddles then growl when I get out of bed. She glares at me while I dress and pouts while I put on makeup and do my hair.
Her true nature comes out when it comes time to go out and do her business, however. She flat out refuses to come inside the house. It doesn’t matter how long I leave her out there. The other 2 dogs will go out and come back in for their treats. I can beg, plead, cajole and offer treats out the wazoo. The little wench sits outside and barks at me while I sit in the house watching her and becoming, minute by minute, later and later for work or school. When I go outside to get her, she runs under the back deck so far out of my reach that I can grab her.
The other day, I finally got mad enough that I went out in the backyard and told that dog exactly what I thought about all of these shenanigans. I sat on the steps of the deck and then it occurred to me that I could beat her at this game. I immediately said, “Who wants to cuddle?” Within 3 seconds, the dog was on my lap and curled up cuddling me. It was all I could not to shake her sweet little body as I scolded her bad behavior.
I so rarely do short posts, but every now and then I find something on youtube that catches my eyes or my ears or my heart and I feel like I need to share it. Music has been my first love for a long time and it broke my heart when I realized I was way too old for the stuff that’s coming out now. The good news is that it doesn’t appear that I’m missing much. Enjoy, friends. Enjoy.
Long-time friends are aware that my hair needs have changed dramatically over the last 10 years. Over my lifetime, I’ve had most hair colors, avoiding the crayola dramatics, but embracing the classic shades. Highlights have been my friends and enemies. I’ve been a long haired grecian goddess and a pixie wench. For the last year or so, due to my inherent need for self-awareness, I’ve embraced my naturalistic ash brown forest earth mother look with flowing, long locks of a singular length.
All of that changed yesterday and turned into this.
Artist rendition of the tragedy
It was a normal day, with the exception of the massive caterpillar across my face that made me look like a yeti with hirsutism. I’d been holding off on the waxing because of the unattractive sunburn I’d received from Little League baseball watching 2 weeks ago. It was time. I was resolved.
While I sat there waiting for the stylist, AJ was hitting my last nerve. I examined my greasy hair and hugely split ends and became even more resolved to do something about my current hair state, if for no other reason than I needed a break from the constant chatter of a hyper 8-year old. Nothing exotic or large was going to happen. I just wanted the split ends removed and no layers. I’ve been growing my hair out for over a year.
What my stylist heard, her of the 1993 Meg-Ryan-duck-butt-blonde-hair-flare that had grown to her shoulders, was that I wanted 4 INCHES OFF OF MY LENGTH AND A FULL SET OF LAYERS. I think my first inclination that something was wrong was when I asked her how much she’d need to take and how bad my split ends were was that she giggled nervously and replied, “Oh, I can’t really tell how split they are when your hair is wet. The water mends your ends so unless it’s dry, I won’t know.” She said this while cutting. I started to fidget nervously and watched a hunk of hair fall off the scissors.
That was the end. She started cutting like a madwoman. I’ve never seen anything like it. Her already squinty eyes became irrationally beady to me. I started to sweat. She kept trying to talk to me about AJ, but all I wanted to do was leave. When she was done, I threw my hair back into a ponytail and jetted. I got home and stewed. That Delilah! How dare she cut my hair like that? It was specifically what I said I DIDN’T want. Cutting a woman’s hair is like cutting off a man’s penis. Ok, maybe not that bad.
When I finally had the courage to take it down and look at it, I winced and slowly turned to Leon. His response, “It looks great!” The response of my friends, “It’s hot. I love it! I’m sorry it’s not what you wanted, but I really like it. It brings out your natural curl.”
Hrmph. But like a petulant child, I want what I want, dang it! Don’t do what I don’t want, even if I look better. I look hot? I look great?
Life is like a game. We all have challenges, thoughts, opinions and beliefs. Often, it feels like something out there, life, karma, catty people, or blue shells (for the Kart lovers), seeks to bring us down. Luckily, we always get up. This is where I wear my heart on my sleeve and my foot in my mouth.
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We are members of one great body. Nature planted in us a mutual love, and fitted us for a social life. We must consider that we were born for the good of the whole.
Lucius Annaeus Seneca
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Life is like a game. We all have challenges, thoughts, opinions and beliefs. Often, it feels like something out there, life, karma, catty people, or blue shells (for the Kart lovers), seeks to bring us down. Luckily, we always get up. This is where I wear my heart on my sleeve and my foot in my mouth.
