Painting for beauty, for new start, for giggles, for survival...
Tomorrow I am going to sweet Obama Jay’s house to peruse colors and ideas for a new fresh start. New look to the shop. That translates to a re-newed, hopeful, funnier Mary. It also translates to happier employees, delighted customers and a new intriguing friendship I am glad to have found...He will help me make something clean, light-filled and crisply exciting. Aahhh Beauty. Amazing what a coat of paint will do for a space, a heart and for a new start.
It seems that beauty is what has always healed me and moved me forward. It can be as simple as a color that sets your heart racing or at peace. It can be the simple and awesome power of friendship and family. It can be hope for more...It can be a set of words in a poem or lyric, so meaningful they stop you in your tracks and connect you to something so deep inside, you almost forget to breathe.
A toast with Beamish and cabernet, to color and beauty and friendship and connection and the future.
Slante
Monday, March 31, 2008
Spellers, Vampires, Bikes and the Boyz
Work, work work. Play,play, play...
Thursday: Up till 3:00a.m. painting harlequins in pink, black and gold leaf on my bedroom door...So amazingly sweet and femme and silly all rolled into one. Smile every time I see that door.
Friday: Run from work to 331 and the 2nd Mpls Grown-up Spelling Bee. It was full of bodacious spellers, cheering squads, burlesque hula-hoopers and hecklers. The Hard On girls were delicious! It was fun and bawdy, as always, with the audience begging for more naughty than nice words. Thank god for the Psychiatric dictionary of sexual perversions, I say. And of course, to the archives of the Scripps National Spelling Bee...so many words, so many hard to pronounce words...especially after wine enters the judges.
Saturday: Worked from 11-8, lates and fucking smoothies till close..great for business, hard on the hands. afterwards, to the Peacock with Nicole and Vicky for sustenance and a good cab...serial vampire killer lawyer and friends there again...decided to play with his head this time cuz ignoring him didn't work, a polite we're talkin here, didn't either.
So I took him over to the bar and sat him down and asked if he remembered what he had asked me the first time we met; about cutting someone while having sex and drinking their blood. "oh, that", he says!!!!!! Yeah "that fucking innappropriate that" I think arrogant guys like him never get called on their shit by their buddies or the women they harrass..., so I decidedit was safe to quietly, in a public place just have at him in return...
nobody gives it back with equal vehemence..Every time he said something outrageous, i called him on it, everytime he talked to my tits, called him on it. Told him, he needed how-to-be-nice-human lessons and that therapy would be his only hope for anything more than a life of one-nighters with vapid 23 yr olds. He told me my red wallet was seductive, I told him he wasn’t. Told me my bra straps were suggestive, told him grade-school was over decades ago. I asked if either of his parents were shrinks and he got a funny look on his face and told me his mom was...I told him with the possible exception of my own kids, I'd never met a shrinks kid that wasn't totally fucked up and he fit the bill. He asked why I hate him and I laughed and said, I hate no-one. Just don't like you or your arrogant shit...pull the stick out of your ass...bought him a drink, gave him a mom hug, said there were Too many reasons to go into. Wished him luck with his life. I know iit was mean, but somehow freeing. Sat back down and talked and laughed with the girls till way past my bed-time...Home way too late but worth it to get out and have real food and discussion with the ladies.
Sunday: work, work, train Marge while crazy buzy...poor Marge...but she survivedand damn i think she makes the best smoothies of all of us. at the end of the crazy shift i look up and who should be in line but the vampire’s wing-men who all live downtown...Not sure why they were in my shop, but, it creeps me out a bit.
After work Marge took me to pick up my new bike...black with fenders, nifty basket and fat-ass seat...so damned sweet to ride. I swear my leg is coming all the way back! Then the Mulay boyz...treats at shop, dinner and arcade games at Grumpy’s, telling about their lives...
All of it seems so right. Especially the boyz. I could cry over how comfortable we’ve become as a substitute family unit. It feels like it was meant to be...the boys I never had but always wanted...little jason, holding my hand and sittin on my lap, telling detailed stories like a little old man, Jacob picking songson the juke box, tring so hard to please his older brothers, Joey so eager to share that he is doing better in school and will not be that dumb kid who has to repeat a grade for dumb choices made, Justin with his permit, learning to parallel park before his test on 4/19, all of them doing better in school, settling back into life with mom, who just completed one year of sobriety. Kudos Elizabeth. Whatever was crazy in your life, those boys will rise above it.
So, after a week of non-stop fun and run, I am fucking tired. But, I am mostly happy for all of that living....and, so grateful for all of it.
Thursday: Up till 3:00a.m. painting harlequins in pink, black and gold leaf on my bedroom door...So amazingly sweet and femme and silly all rolled into one. Smile every time I see that door.
Friday: Run from work to 331 and the 2nd Mpls Grown-up Spelling Bee. It was full of bodacious spellers, cheering squads, burlesque hula-hoopers and hecklers. The Hard On girls were delicious! It was fun and bawdy, as always, with the audience begging for more naughty than nice words. Thank god for the Psychiatric dictionary of sexual perversions, I say. And of course, to the archives of the Scripps National Spelling Bee...so many words, so many hard to pronounce words...especially after wine enters the judges.
Saturday: Worked from 11-8, lates and fucking smoothies till close..great for business, hard on the hands. afterwards, to the Peacock with Nicole and Vicky for sustenance and a good cab...serial vampire killer lawyer and friends there again...decided to play with his head this time cuz ignoring him didn't work, a polite we're talkin here, didn't either.
So I took him over to the bar and sat him down and asked if he remembered what he had asked me the first time we met; about cutting someone while having sex and drinking their blood. "oh, that", he says!!!!!! Yeah "that fucking innappropriate that" I think arrogant guys like him never get called on their shit by their buddies or the women they harrass..., so I decidedit was safe to quietly, in a public place just have at him in return...
nobody gives it back with equal vehemence..Every time he said something outrageous, i called him on it, everytime he talked to my tits, called him on it. Told him, he needed how-to-be-nice-human lessons and that therapy would be his only hope for anything more than a life of one-nighters with vapid 23 yr olds. He told me my red wallet was seductive, I told him he wasn’t. Told me my bra straps were suggestive, told him grade-school was over decades ago. I asked if either of his parents were shrinks and he got a funny look on his face and told me his mom was...I told him with the possible exception of my own kids, I'd never met a shrinks kid that wasn't totally fucked up and he fit the bill. He asked why I hate him and I laughed and said, I hate no-one. Just don't like you or your arrogant shit...pull the stick out of your ass...bought him a drink, gave him a mom hug, said there were Too many reasons to go into. Wished him luck with his life. I know iit was mean, but somehow freeing. Sat back down and talked and laughed with the girls till way past my bed-time...Home way too late but worth it to get out and have real food and discussion with the ladies.
Sunday: work, work, train Marge while crazy buzy...poor Marge...but she survivedand damn i think she makes the best smoothies of all of us. at the end of the crazy shift i look up and who should be in line but the vampire’s wing-men who all live downtown...Not sure why they were in my shop, but, it creeps me out a bit.
After work Marge took me to pick up my new bike...black with fenders, nifty basket and fat-ass seat...so damned sweet to ride. I swear my leg is coming all the way back! Then the Mulay boyz...treats at shop, dinner and arcade games at Grumpy’s, telling about their lives...
All of it seems so right. Especially the boyz. I could cry over how comfortable we’ve become as a substitute family unit. It feels like it was meant to be...the boys I never had but always wanted...little jason, holding my hand and sittin on my lap, telling detailed stories like a little old man, Jacob picking songson the juke box, tring so hard to please his older brothers, Joey so eager to share that he is doing better in school and will not be that dumb kid who has to repeat a grade for dumb choices made, Justin with his permit, learning to parallel park before his test on 4/19, all of them doing better in school, settling back into life with mom, who just completed one year of sobriety. Kudos Elizabeth. Whatever was crazy in your life, those boys will rise above it.
So, after a week of non-stop fun and run, I am fucking tired. But, I am mostly happy for all of that living....and, so grateful for all of it.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Friday, March 28, 2008
Can you spell t.i.r.e.d.?
Tonight was the second Mpls. Drunken Spelling Bee, a wonderful gathering of would-be genius spellers who get to spell everything from "bugle" to "venerable" to so many latin and greek based, 6 syllable words, that I am too tired to remember...then there were naughty sexual deviant terms...the final and winning word was numismatist...(one who collects and admires coins) There was the underwear round, the hula hooping by Honey and by yours truly, the Hard-On girls...the event was silly, fun and, oddly enough, ultimately academic . The Daily covered it and took tons of photos. The crowd seemed to love learning new words and wanted correct spelling for the ones misspelled.
I learned that people are funny when their guard is down. I met lots of hilarious women and men, some so earnest it hurt when they lost, and some so just happy to be there for fun that they laughed out loud when they went down.
I was told by both the men and womenthat i need to be meaner to the contestants, but that they loved the "catholic apologist component of my silliness after saying naughty things. Don't know how to be mean, verbally, I guess. I can be naughty, i can say the most sexually awful words and give definitions with a completely straight face...naughty nice naughty nice...so confusing, but I can't be mean to them when they fail...hmmm
Happy to see lots of coffeeshop customers, some shock and giggles at my potty mouth. I'm sure there will be much shaking if fingers on monday...
Most surprising and gratifying of all, were the number of young women who said they want me to adopt them and the complete strangers who came up to tell me how much they envied my easy and open relationship with my daughter; the naughty back and forth between us, the obvious affection and respect. i was struck by how true that was...how i love her unconditionally, and encourage open exchange and creativity between us, actually with both my girls. I think it ironic that these young women want to be me...ME? SO STRANGE!!!. It made me realize that I need to get past the me as failure...divorced, alone now, as if that were what i am...I need to see the me who they see. A woman speaking her mind, not afraid to be silly when called for, smart enough to be witty and concise with language. I guess the woman they see is so perfectly fucking on the money for the place, and time she is living in.
I, she is enough.., pretty damned tough, a survivor and definitely growing more fearless with each passing day.
Maybe that is all that matters. Maybe smart, kind, funny is all I've got and damn, i just need to seethat as good...oh, there is that ethical, i won't go home with you thing, too. Missing intimacy, that is hard to do, but especially nowm np confusing sex with care.
Bottom line, I guess i just need to paint more, to write more, to love friendship and make it enough. Being the Queen Bee isn't so bad, considering the options. Tho, I prefer the moniker given to me by the Burlesque ladies; Pope of NE....It has such a lovely ring...hmm...a pope who can spell. guarantees me heaven I think.
Nite y'all.
Slante
I learned that people are funny when their guard is down. I met lots of hilarious women and men, some so earnest it hurt when they lost, and some so just happy to be there for fun that they laughed out loud when they went down.
I was told by both the men and womenthat i need to be meaner to the contestants, but that they loved the "catholic apologist component of my silliness after saying naughty things. Don't know how to be mean, verbally, I guess. I can be naughty, i can say the most sexually awful words and give definitions with a completely straight face...naughty nice naughty nice...so confusing, but I can't be mean to them when they fail...hmmm
Happy to see lots of coffeeshop customers, some shock and giggles at my potty mouth. I'm sure there will be much shaking if fingers on monday...
Most surprising and gratifying of all, were the number of young women who said they want me to adopt them and the complete strangers who came up to tell me how much they envied my easy and open relationship with my daughter; the naughty back and forth between us, the obvious affection and respect. i was struck by how true that was...how i love her unconditionally, and encourage open exchange and creativity between us, actually with both my girls. I think it ironic that these young women want to be me...ME? SO STRANGE!!!. It made me realize that I need to get past the me as failure...divorced, alone now, as if that were what i am...I need to see the me who they see. A woman speaking her mind, not afraid to be silly when called for, smart enough to be witty and concise with language. I guess the woman they see is so perfectly fucking on the money for the place, and time she is living in.
I, she is enough.., pretty damned tough, a survivor and definitely growing more fearless with each passing day.
Maybe that is all that matters. Maybe smart, kind, funny is all I've got and damn, i just need to seethat as good...oh, there is that ethical, i won't go home with you thing, too. Missing intimacy, that is hard to do, but especially nowm np confusing sex with care.
Bottom line, I guess i just need to paint more, to write more, to love friendship and make it enough. Being the Queen Bee isn't so bad, considering the options. Tho, I prefer the moniker given to me by the Burlesque ladies; Pope of NE....It has such a lovely ring...hmm...a pope who can spell. guarantees me heaven I think.
Nite y'all.
Slante
Night out; Drunken Spelling, Time to cut loose
Tonight will be the second ever Mpls drunken Spelling Bee, now politically corrected to the Adult Spelling Bee by those who run our state offices...Silly.
There will be glee in the successful spelling of complicated and simple words. Drinks will be had. People will dare to spell in their underwear for a second chance at winning the Bee. I will sit at the judges table and try to keep a straight face while giving out definitions and using words in sentences for them.
Mostly I will laugh and enjoy the company I will have tonight. I will enjoy being out in the world, living loud, not afraid to be foolish and have fun.
Gotta love my daughter for being genius enough to bring the Bee to fruition!!!
This Queen Bee is so P.R.O.U.D.
There will be glee in the successful spelling of complicated and simple words. Drinks will be had. People will dare to spell in their underwear for a second chance at winning the Bee. I will sit at the judges table and try to keep a straight face while giving out definitions and using words in sentences for them.
Mostly I will laugh and enjoy the company I will have tonight. I will enjoy being out in the world, living loud, not afraid to be foolish and have fun.
Gotta love my daughter for being genius enough to bring the Bee to fruition!!!
This Queen Bee is so P.R.O.U.D.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Painting for the Not faint of heart
Last week, I traded dollars for scholarly, incredible art , for practical dollars... for making a living art...And, here's the best part. There's not a sad bone in my body about it.! In fact it just possibly makes me happier than having a masterpiece on my livingroom wall. I say this for a couple of reasons.
The first reason being that as a single woman, who needs more than ever to succeed in her business, it is smart business.
The second reason is oddly more important in some ways...it is that I realize now how much beauty has meant to me these past few years as i decided to end my marriage. Beauty saved me..BEAUTY SAVED ME. It did and it will always. Beauty is faithful it would seem to those who see it in all of its' incarnations, grand and simple.
When my ex's infidelities cut me to the bone, I created a garden to heal myself in. It truly was a labor of love and survival.
It is and was, a place where I could trust. i trusted that if I nurtured and weeded, my blooms would thrive and spread happiness...
With each new plant and bloom, my heart grew back together, stronger. With each back-breaking shovel full of dirt dug for my pond, with each 300lb stone set, i knew it was worth living, no matter how wounded I felt. When that first stream of water came over the waterfall, I felt freed of the dirt he brought to my bed. I felt the courage to tell him to leave. It didn't matter to me that I might lose the house and the garden...I knew I could create that again anywhere...
So, now to the painting of the shop...It will heal me further, not in regards to the death of my marriage. That is finally healed. No, this time, the painting, the creation of a beautiful space is about signalling to myself that beauty still maters.
It is now a symbol of wanting to live happy again...like my newly painted bedroom, it will make me smile and maybe even laugh each time I enter. It is a gift to my community, to my customers, my employees and to myself. The rest of them, they will see beauty in color and ight...I will see beauty in that too, but most of all, I will see beauty in the fact that it is a symbol of wanting to live full-force again...of wanting what we all want, but i didn't dare to think I deserved, a shared life, for however long a period of time i am lucky enough to be given, i want to share my life with someone who intuits the importance of beauty, of it's ability to heal, to give joy, to laugh.
So, great art is after all, in the eye of the beholder... I hope those who behold the clean beautiful bright shop at its completion, understand.
Slante
The first reason being that as a single woman, who needs more than ever to succeed in her business, it is smart business.
The second reason is oddly more important in some ways...it is that I realize now how much beauty has meant to me these past few years as i decided to end my marriage. Beauty saved me..BEAUTY SAVED ME. It did and it will always. Beauty is faithful it would seem to those who see it in all of its' incarnations, grand and simple.
When my ex's infidelities cut me to the bone, I created a garden to heal myself in. It truly was a labor of love and survival.
It is and was, a place where I could trust. i trusted that if I nurtured and weeded, my blooms would thrive and spread happiness...
With each new plant and bloom, my heart grew back together, stronger. With each back-breaking shovel full of dirt dug for my pond, with each 300lb stone set, i knew it was worth living, no matter how wounded I felt. When that first stream of water came over the waterfall, I felt freed of the dirt he brought to my bed. I felt the courage to tell him to leave. It didn't matter to me that I might lose the house and the garden...I knew I could create that again anywhere...
So, now to the painting of the shop...It will heal me further, not in regards to the death of my marriage. That is finally healed. No, this time, the painting, the creation of a beautiful space is about signalling to myself that beauty still maters.
It is now a symbol of wanting to live happy again...like my newly painted bedroom, it will make me smile and maybe even laugh each time I enter. It is a gift to my community, to my customers, my employees and to myself. The rest of them, they will see beauty in color and ight...I will see beauty in that too, but most of all, I will see beauty in the fact that it is a symbol of wanting to live full-force again...of wanting what we all want, but i didn't dare to think I deserved, a shared life, for however long a period of time i am lucky enough to be given, i want to share my life with someone who intuits the importance of beauty, of it's ability to heal, to give joy, to laugh.
So, great art is after all, in the eye of the beholder... I hope those who behold the clean beautiful bright shop at its completion, understand.
Slante
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Pink and Black Harlequins make me laugh
It's amazing what paint can do for your mental health...I took a friends suggestion and decided to free hand pink and black harlequin diamonds FREEHAND, on my bedroom door. Started with the outside, a heads up to anyone visiting that this is not your normal dull space. My dearest friends will get to enter and see it. and i know they will get it.
How sweet to laugh out loud when entering a place where you sleep and dream and maybe someday share your bed.
I only got the outside door finished but stated the closet door, also free-hand, it will have fake panels, pink and black and they too make me smile.
Then,being the impatient type and curious to see what it would be like, I decided to copy Jay's idea and began painting all of the door trim black...it's beautiful! Can't wait to get to the window frames...Great contrast, frames the room, it's like living in framed art.
Maybe just maybe, creating beauty is enough for now... a temporary cure for loneliness and longing. Sure feels good to be so happy about it. Now I just have to stay at it, find the time to finish the beautification with a frickin crazy busy weekend ahead. Oh well, walls and door frames are patient structures. They will wait for me. Drunken Spelling Bees and lattes won't.
How sweet to laugh out loud when entering a place where you sleep and dream and maybe someday share your bed.
I only got the outside door finished but stated the closet door, also free-hand, it will have fake panels, pink and black and they too make me smile.
Then,being the impatient type and curious to see what it would be like, I decided to copy Jay's idea and began painting all of the door trim black...it's beautiful! Can't wait to get to the window frames...Great contrast, frames the room, it's like living in framed art.
Maybe just maybe, creating beauty is enough for now... a temporary cure for loneliness and longing. Sure feels good to be so happy about it. Now I just have to stay at it, find the time to finish the beautification with a frickin crazy busy weekend ahead. Oh well, walls and door frames are patient structures. They will wait for me. Drunken Spelling Bees and lattes won't.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Ella sings it all
"Reach for tomorrow, today belongs to the past. The golden hopes of your yesterdays can all be yours at last...reach for tomorrow and keep your head in the sky...you may get hurt a thousand ways....but give it one more try ...
no regrets about the chances you missed...keep your dreams ever new, no matter how many times it seems that dreams are not for you...reach for tomorrow and make them all come true..." So to the heart sweet Ella.
Dreams are simple for me; touch, tenderness, true connection...I don't ask for much more than that. Yet, I am stunned some nights by just how much I miss human touch from a sweet man and isome ntelligent company that is honest in its' expectations.
Been thinking a lot about loneliness and longing lately...I can accept and understand any rejection based on sexual attraction, odd huh?, I'm not your type? I get that...not hard to accept....It's the me, the true self shared, and rejected that is so frightening. It's the rejection of what I AM intrinsically that frightens me...
What if what I am is not enough...
What if all I get in life is friendship from this point on...will it be enough? That is a good and lucky life...one filled with true friends. Having said that, I also know what I am missing.
Is it enough to know that at least once, someone DID love the "pilgrim soul" in me? Guess I'll have to find out. Hope there is more of that in my future.
Dreams, sing them Ella, my dreams...to believe that someone, someday, somewhere, will SEE me,
So, I say fuck yes, I will dare to dream that someone will ultimately appreciate my sexy self, my disinct and often bawdy humor, my sassy political mouth and my eclectic brain which operates at 1000mph. I will find someone who sees all of that, loves it and will be worth writing poetry for...and maybe, depending on what happens, I will write them some very clever, dirty Irish limmericks...
So, I, Mary, outspoken, political, potty-mouthed neighborhood offee lady, hilarious ( to me)" cougar" icon for so many sexy outspoken young men who tell me to my face they want to sleep with me, yet, ironically do not interest me, will dare to dream but by my own quirky catholic no quick one-nighter rules and standards, but I will dream none the less...
no regrets about the chances you missed...keep your dreams ever new, no matter how many times it seems that dreams are not for you...reach for tomorrow and make them all come true..." So to the heart sweet Ella.
Dreams are simple for me; touch, tenderness, true connection...I don't ask for much more than that. Yet, I am stunned some nights by just how much I miss human touch from a sweet man and isome ntelligent company that is honest in its' expectations.
Been thinking a lot about loneliness and longing lately...I can accept and understand any rejection based on sexual attraction, odd huh?, I'm not your type? I get that...not hard to accept....It's the me, the true self shared, and rejected that is so frightening. It's the rejection of what I AM intrinsically that frightens me...
What if what I am is not enough...
What if all I get in life is friendship from this point on...will it be enough? That is a good and lucky life...one filled with true friends. Having said that, I also know what I am missing.
Is it enough to know that at least once, someone DID love the "pilgrim soul" in me? Guess I'll have to find out. Hope there is more of that in my future.
Dreams, sing them Ella, my dreams...to believe that someone, someday, somewhere, will SEE me,
So, I say fuck yes, I will dare to dream that someone will ultimately appreciate my sexy self, my disinct and often bawdy humor, my sassy political mouth and my eclectic brain which operates at 1000mph. I will find someone who sees all of that, loves it and will be worth writing poetry for...and maybe, depending on what happens, I will write them some very clever, dirty Irish limmericks...
So, I, Mary, outspoken, political, potty-mouthed neighborhood offee lady, hilarious ( to me)" cougar" icon for so many sexy outspoken young men who tell me to my face they want to sleep with me, yet, ironically do not interest me, will dare to dream but by my own quirky catholic no quick one-nighter rules and standards, but I will dream none the less...
You can't pick your family, but, you can pick your preacher
Here we go again, Hillary and team dragging shit out of the old stale air after being caught making it up about her visit to Bosnia...own your bullshit, instead of deflecting it onto Obama, sister...Oh, she made a mistake...How many times did you mispeak dear hillary...three, four, times? Tsk Tsk.
Who needs Swiftboating by Rove and Gang when you have Hillary and Bill twisting the truth, trying to make her experience more than it was. Did She not know the Tyson's? Did she not serve Walmart? Did they not label Bill Richardson a Judas for having the audacity to support Obama? We do not need to fear the Republican Smear Machine...We have the Clinton's team doing it for them. There is an old soldier's axiom about not leaving your weapons on the field for the enemy to use against you...do you not know that or does winning outweigh all else. Sigh...The other old axiom I adhere to is this Hillary; Karma's a bitch, and she knows your address.
Gonna go meet Dori at the 331 tonight after mom goes to sleep and bithc about politics and parents who spend the night one time too many...sometimes i just want to be alone. New deal will be home with mom aon mon and Tues. till 8, then I claim my own life back...can't sit here too often these days. I did it for months as I made the house my own after coming home to a chair and a bed on the floor after thru Ed out...It is done and now, I'm living outside of these walls ...Here's to the great escape!!!
Here's to music, good company and laughter.
Slante!
Who needs Swiftboating by Rove and Gang when you have Hillary and Bill twisting the truth, trying to make her experience more than it was. Did She not know the Tyson's? Did she not serve Walmart? Did they not label Bill Richardson a Judas for having the audacity to support Obama? We do not need to fear the Republican Smear Machine...We have the Clinton's team doing it for them. There is an old soldier's axiom about not leaving your weapons on the field for the enemy to use against you...do you not know that or does winning outweigh all else. Sigh...The other old axiom I adhere to is this Hillary; Karma's a bitch, and she knows your address.
Gonna go meet Dori at the 331 tonight after mom goes to sleep and bithc about politics and parents who spend the night one time too many...sometimes i just want to be alone. New deal will be home with mom aon mon and Tues. till 8, then I claim my own life back...can't sit here too often these days. I did it for months as I made the house my own after coming home to a chair and a bed on the floor after thru Ed out...It is done and now, I'm living outside of these walls ...Here's to the great escape!!!
Here's to music, good company and laughter.
Slante!
Monday, March 24, 2008
Fresh. Color. New Beginnings
I am so excited to not only put my house in order, but to also re-do my bread and butter. I want to smile when I enter. I want to feel new start, bridge or nor bridge, it's going to fly this spring and summer..
If it's pretty, they will come...if it's pretty employees will be happier. If it's pretty, Mary will laugh more, smile more and just love the shit out of it and god forbid, maybe be fucking proud of my little business that could...SWEET
Can't wait for the transformation...
If it's pretty, they will come...if it's pretty employees will be happier. If it's pretty, Mary will laugh more, smile more and just love the shit out of it and god forbid, maybe be fucking proud of my little business that could...SWEET
Can't wait for the transformation...
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Family gathering; new configuration
I had the girls invite friends and I invited friends and then took a big breath and told the girls they could invite their dad too. Lots of food, lots of laughter, and, only a moment or two of awkwardness when Eduardo came in.
My friends were kind and graceful...the girls were awkward then fell back to their old ways and soon everyone was laughing again and telling stories, watching bad MTV dance shows and sharing wine and many phone calls to the rest of the family.
All in all, I'm glad I said he could come. I see how he misses being part of the greater family. I divorcied him, not the girls and tho they won't say it outloud, I know it means a lot to them to have some semblance of normalcy in the ongoing life of daughter/dad.
I did promise to not hate. I even tattooedit on my back as a tangible reminder to not only not hate, but to move forward. Can;'t do that if I stay mired in hate.
Actually gave him leftovers ,served with a hug and wishes for a good life. An, I meant it.
It felt good to feel so free of him and the old shit. a toast to the resurrection of Mary.
Cheers
My friends were kind and graceful...the girls were awkward then fell back to their old ways and soon everyone was laughing again and telling stories, watching bad MTV dance shows and sharing wine and many phone calls to the rest of the family.
All in all, I'm glad I said he could come. I see how he misses being part of the greater family. I divorcied him, not the girls and tho they won't say it outloud, I know it means a lot to them to have some semblance of normalcy in the ongoing life of daughter/dad.
I did promise to not hate. I even tattooedit on my back as a tangible reminder to not only not hate, but to move forward. Can;'t do that if I stay mired in hate.
Actually gave him leftovers ,served with a hug and wishes for a good life. An, I meant it.
It felt good to feel so free of him and the old shit. a toast to the resurrection of Mary.
Cheers
Easter peepshow
Being the pagan I am, I have loaded up on Easter peeps and thedinner guests and I wil build a sweet diorama of a peep show...pink bunnies as strippers, fat yellow chicks as the creepy guys, complete with dollar bills and gold chains...
Who knew St. Paul has had a peeps diorama for at least a decade...damn. First this, then on to state fair seed art....
Love that my kids and their friends will be filling my house with noise, trucker vocabulary, bad peep dioramas, good r&b, Laughter, love and comfort.
Happy hoppin Easter to all.
Who knew St. Paul has had a peeps diorama for at least a decade...damn. First this, then on to state fair seed art....
Love that my kids and their friends will be filling my house with noise, trucker vocabulary, bad peep dioramas, good r&b, Laughter, love and comfort.
Happy hoppin Easter to all.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Springtime/ when one's fancy runs amok
It's springtime, even if the snow is still falling. And, just like the jr. high kids I used to teach, my thoughts and heart have turned to fantasy and hormones...How can someone my age, having gone through so much, surviving a near death accident, a divorce based on multiple infidelities and a theiving business partner, (geeezus) still feel so foolishly young and muddled?
I have a longing, physically, emotionally, intellectually and politically for someone who probably thinks I'm invisible or at the very fucking least just some crazy coffee lady. Somehow this new longing is harder to bear after everything else...
I seem to lack the courage and or self-belief to dare to reach out and touch, to expose my heart's jugular. Still It's so wonderfully sweet how he makes me feel. I will not regret feeling so deeply again, I thought for a long time that was dead in me. How damned wonderful to feel alive even if it is staggering to dare. I feel as if I know him, tho i really don't. Small conversations, small looks as if he was trying to figure out who the fuck, what the fuck I am...I am sad for his losses, I love his obvious sweetness. Inexplicably, I want to touch his arm, be near him, talk politics and life. Intimacy seems so unattainable, tho I have this crazy urge to kiss him and ask him to hold me, wrap his arm around my waist and pull me in tight. I know that ultimately, I want his friendship more than anything else. I'd be happy just to sit and talk politics, toast to life and hear what he liovs about life, music, art...Fucking Springtime!
I wish I was Sheherezade. I wish Yeats and Pablo Neruda were never in my poetic lexicon....how painful to still be a romantic in this hard-edged day and age...okay I lied, I love their language and passion, even if I were never to make love again, I would not live without or lose their beauty of language and ideology in my life...
I just find myself shaking in my soul, wishing I believed, really believed, I was dear, sensual, and vital to someone again...wishing I trusted in my heart, my attractiveness, my intellect, to matter, once again. Don't think I'm cut out for one-nighters, don't think I can be a quick fuck and goodbye ma'am. Values...ethics...all I've got left. Oh and humor.
Okay Spring, give me something to believe in and I will prove my metal.
Ne cede odium. Ne cede malis.
I have a longing, physically, emotionally, intellectually and politically for someone who probably thinks I'm invisible or at the very fucking least just some crazy coffee lady. Somehow this new longing is harder to bear after everything else...
I seem to lack the courage and or self-belief to dare to reach out and touch, to expose my heart's jugular. Still It's so wonderfully sweet how he makes me feel. I will not regret feeling so deeply again, I thought for a long time that was dead in me. How damned wonderful to feel alive even if it is staggering to dare. I feel as if I know him, tho i really don't. Small conversations, small looks as if he was trying to figure out who the fuck, what the fuck I am...I am sad for his losses, I love his obvious sweetness. Inexplicably, I want to touch his arm, be near him, talk politics and life. Intimacy seems so unattainable, tho I have this crazy urge to kiss him and ask him to hold me, wrap his arm around my waist and pull me in tight. I know that ultimately, I want his friendship more than anything else. I'd be happy just to sit and talk politics, toast to life and hear what he liovs about life, music, art...Fucking Springtime!
I wish I was Sheherezade. I wish Yeats and Pablo Neruda were never in my poetic lexicon....how painful to still be a romantic in this hard-edged day and age...okay I lied, I love their language and passion, even if I were never to make love again, I would not live without or lose their beauty of language and ideology in my life...
I just find myself shaking in my soul, wishing I believed, really believed, I was dear, sensual, and vital to someone again...wishing I trusted in my heart, my attractiveness, my intellect, to matter, once again. Don't think I'm cut out for one-nighters, don't think I can be a quick fuck and goodbye ma'am. Values...ethics...all I've got left. Oh and humor.
Okay Spring, give me something to believe in and I will prove my metal.
Ne cede odium. Ne cede malis.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
spring...what the hell's going to bloom
When I woke up in my spanking new, ghost free bed this morning, the sun was bouncing like mad around my room and instead of rolling over and burying my face under a pillow, i sat up and looked out the window. it struck me how much I love this time of year. Cliche i know, but, new season, new life...I felt it in my bones...The birds were singing and the crazy cardinals that live in my yard were thumping against my bedroom window, like they do every spring...(i suppose that they are challenging their reflection in that male dominance challenge dance they do).
Only two days earlier while standing in the Patio at NE Grumpys on St. Patrick's day night talking politics and life withsweet and funny Obama Jay and his friend Paul, while fat, gorgeous snowflakes fell in a steady, sweet peaceful way...yet, as i stood there, i could feel spring, not winter.
I made my pretty new bed, threw the frickin hilarious french-femme pillows on it and laid back down and listened...dogs barked like crazy, Ray La Montaigne sang his heart out on my ipod and I dared to bet that i will be sharing my bed with someone soon....not just anyone, but someone worthy of caring about and sharing soft sheets with. Yep, I will open my windows and heart soon and feel cool air across my arms and maybe wrap them around someone wonderful sleeping next to me to keep them warm and enjoy the new spring air ...
Only two days earlier while standing in the Patio at NE Grumpys on St. Patrick's day night talking politics and life withsweet and funny Obama Jay and his friend Paul, while fat, gorgeous snowflakes fell in a steady, sweet peaceful way...yet, as i stood there, i could feel spring, not winter.
I made my pretty new bed, threw the frickin hilarious french-femme pillows on it and laid back down and listened...dogs barked like crazy, Ray La Montaigne sang his heart out on my ipod and I dared to bet that i will be sharing my bed with someone soon....not just anyone, but someone worthy of caring about and sharing soft sheets with. Yep, I will open my windows and heart soon and feel cool air across my arms and maybe wrap them around someone wonderful sleeping next to me to keep them warm and enjoy the new spring air ...
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Wright isn't wrong...wake up america
How dare a black minister ever speak the truth regarding the history of race in america...more so how dare he be angry and raise his voice in doing so.
Devisive? Yes. Untrue, NO NO NO!
Can voters, intelligent voters, un-intelligent voters, terror obsessed voters,,, understand the different sides to the reality of history and fear and race in this day and age.
Have not the David Dukes and Rush limbaughs, and Bill O'Reilly's done exactly the same without any real repercussions?
And, now, how will the Clintons use this to muddy the waters...
Devisive? Yes. Untrue, NO NO NO!
Can voters, intelligent voters, un-intelligent voters, terror obsessed voters,,, understand the different sides to the reality of history and fear and race in this day and age.
Have not the David Dukes and Rush limbaughs, and Bill O'Reilly's done exactly the same without any real repercussions?
And, now, how will the Clintons use this to muddy the waters...
New sense of humor and desire
Got myself a pedicure today...seemed a sweet treat for my poor over-worked tootsies. Fell asleep in the vibrating chair. It was so relaxing and I am so tired because I stayed out way too late last night...Went to Ne Grumps and talked to my favorite political man. Laughed, smoked cigarettes, drank beer nad laughed some more along with serious talk.
While pink toenails were drying(What the hell is going on with all of my recent pinkness, anyway?) I picked up a mag to read and there was this essay on desire...a woman trying to define it...odd, because I have been thinking about it myself lately.
After two years of celibacy, I feel it more and more...not just sexual, tho that is getting kinda crazy...but also a need or longing to share ideas and beliefs, a wish for intimacy at all levels...
So, identifying it is step one...step two is so much more intimidating, cuz I'm not sure anyone desires me, and that makes me sad and insecure. I have worked so hard these past two years at accepting my aloneness, being grateful for the beauty of frinds, small things, seeing miniscule moments of joy as enough...
These moments and family and friends are capable of making mine a happy life. I just will admit to desiring more. To wanting to feel myself as sexually alive, as sexually attractive still...I do know this tho, the object of my desire would have to be so much more than a good lay...I desire intelligence.
I desire vitality.
I desire humor.
I desire gentleness and touch.
I desire the patience to live my life with the sense not to just jump into the sack with any fool who comes my way...
I desire passion.
Maybe I should just desire a lobotomy so that i do not miss what i do not have...
Hell no. Maybe the best part of desire is thge longing itself becuase it keeps our sense of being alive and hungry on its' toes.
Sigh...
While pink toenails were drying(What the hell is going on with all of my recent pinkness, anyway?) I picked up a mag to read and there was this essay on desire...a woman trying to define it...odd, because I have been thinking about it myself lately.
After two years of celibacy, I feel it more and more...not just sexual, tho that is getting kinda crazy...but also a need or longing to share ideas and beliefs, a wish for intimacy at all levels...
So, identifying it is step one...step two is so much more intimidating, cuz I'm not sure anyone desires me, and that makes me sad and insecure. I have worked so hard these past two years at accepting my aloneness, being grateful for the beauty of frinds, small things, seeing miniscule moments of joy as enough...
These moments and family and friends are capable of making mine a happy life. I just will admit to desiring more. To wanting to feel myself as sexually alive, as sexually attractive still...I do know this tho, the object of my desire would have to be so much more than a good lay...I desire intelligence.
I desire vitality.
I desire humor.
I desire gentleness and touch.
I desire the patience to live my life with the sense not to just jump into the sack with any fool who comes my way...
I desire passion.
Maybe I should just desire a lobotomy so that i do not miss what i do not have...
Hell no. Maybe the best part of desire is thge longing itself becuase it keeps our sense of being alive and hungry on its' toes.
Sigh...
Saturday, March 15, 2008
new bed:what that really means
On Tuesday I get my new, custom designed, handmade, cherry wood, stained black, federalist style four-poster bed....
Hand made just for me, completely ghost free, by a friend who understood just how much I needed a new safe nest.
It is beautiful in it's solidness, like me...elevated, with four capped beautiful posts that point to the sky.
It will be my fortress, my respite, my spa, my new awakening zone. In it, I will set new memories into play, test my new sexy self (don't know for sure about that, but a girl's gotta dream).
I may on a day off choose that bed to hide from the world, read great novels, write poems, eat Dove sugar free chocolates, page thru trashy fashion magazines, listen to my own favorite music, loud or soft and sing along in my pajamas.
At night when I go to bed and turn on Keith Oberman, I will light candles, drink wine and maybe MAYBE even eat crackers and roll in the crumbs...jeez can't wait.
p.s. ran into "vampire serial killer lawyer."..he says to me, " hey hon, my friends pointedout that you were here. They said that's the lady who hates you...Do you really hate me? Why? I'm a nice guy and sexy..." Yikes...
Hand made just for me, completely ghost free, by a friend who understood just how much I needed a new safe nest.
It is beautiful in it's solidness, like me...elevated, with four capped beautiful posts that point to the sky.
It will be my fortress, my respite, my spa, my new awakening zone. In it, I will set new memories into play, test my new sexy self (don't know for sure about that, but a girl's gotta dream).
I may on a day off choose that bed to hide from the world, read great novels, write poems, eat Dove sugar free chocolates, page thru trashy fashion magazines, listen to my own favorite music, loud or soft and sing along in my pajamas.
At night when I go to bed and turn on Keith Oberman, I will light candles, drink wine and maybe MAYBE even eat crackers and roll in the crumbs...jeez can't wait.
p.s. ran into "vampire serial killer lawyer."..he says to me, " hey hon, my friends pointedout that you were here. They said that's the lady who hates you...Do you really hate me? Why? I'm a nice guy and sexy..." Yikes...
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
bittersweet
D.I.V.O.R.C.E.
Tomorrow at 2 we sit down with a judge and two lawyers to decide our divorce settlement and financial futures...
I have decided to believe in the legal system, and the letter of the law, regarding divorcing couples.
I have also decided to believe in the Divorce Fairy, who will leave me the gift of freedom and a new life under my pillow tonight and every night hereafter.
I also believe in a good cabernet with good friends.
Godspeed to both of us, Eduardo (hereafter to be known on my cell and lips as Exuardo, and myself...
I will live by what Ihad tattooed on my back...NE CEDE ODIUM.. do not surrender to hate...
ever...
Tomorrow at 2 we sit down with a judge and two lawyers to decide our divorce settlement and financial futures...
I have decided to believe in the legal system, and the letter of the law, regarding divorcing couples.
I have also decided to believe in the Divorce Fairy, who will leave me the gift of freedom and a new life under my pillow tonight and every night hereafter.
I also believe in a good cabernet with good friends.
Godspeed to both of us, Eduardo (hereafter to be known on my cell and lips as Exuardo, and myself...
I will live by what Ihad tattooed on my back...NE CEDE ODIUM.. do not surrender to hate...
ever...
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Finito, futuro y esperanza
Some days, endings and beginnings blend onto a crazy canvas...paint this part of my life blue, paint that part of endings black, add some pink to make a room habitable, no, happy, add a shading of green for the future, like a garden fresh and ready to reach to the sun...
Leading me to ask what painting do I want to create for my future. I will hang the old one on the wall, a reminder of loss, love, hope, happy times, terrible betrayals...That canvas is done. I will view it as a piece to learn from, to wonder about it's deeper meaning; like a Goya, a Bacon, a DaVinci..inscrutible?
The new Canvas will most likely be as layered. But, I will choose my colors this time with a wider depth of experience to guide me. I will scrape away color that doesn't suit me. I will re-create and blend the tones, creating something powerful, beauty I hope, filled with light and shadow. How presumptive to think it might be a Michaelangelo...maybe if I am wise and honest and passionate, at least an El Greco, a Rembrandt...a modern day Lucretia without the mortal wound, instead a survivor not sacrificed to old sets of male standards, but instead a survivor reflecting some damage, but mostly a wisdom; shadows in the eyes, a wise turn to the mouth, lines that show the journey that has been made.
I will pick up my brush and paint my new life...
Leading me to ask what painting do I want to create for my future. I will hang the old one on the wall, a reminder of loss, love, hope, happy times, terrible betrayals...That canvas is done. I will view it as a piece to learn from, to wonder about it's deeper meaning; like a Goya, a Bacon, a DaVinci..inscrutible?
The new Canvas will most likely be as layered. But, I will choose my colors this time with a wider depth of experience to guide me. I will scrape away color that doesn't suit me. I will re-create and blend the tones, creating something powerful, beauty I hope, filled with light and shadow. How presumptive to think it might be a Michaelangelo...maybe if I am wise and honest and passionate, at least an El Greco, a Rembrandt...a modern day Lucretia without the mortal wound, instead a survivor not sacrificed to old sets of male standards, but instead a survivor reflecting some damage, but mostly a wisdom; shadows in the eyes, a wise turn to the mouth, lines that show the journey that has been made.
I will pick up my brush and paint my new life...
Saturday, March 8, 2008
french boudouior/cunundrum pendinng
How funny...redecorated my bedroom in "french kitch" so femme, so fun, so not the old me...and then who should appear? A sweet french chef who also wants to "fix "my coffeeshop by redoing the chairs and tables ...lol...
He wants to know my work schedule so he can come watch the neighborhood and how I work with it??? Perhaps he can take me to lunch at Vincents? Dear me! ...positives...very political, very kind...carpenter who loves to work with his hands...hmm
Here's the cunundrum...suave and sophisticated and as seemingly kind as he is, I keep thinking about "Obama Jay"...desire and attraction are such pixie fuckers, always messing with my heart and head.
JHere's the deal for now; I'm not jumping into anything, So, Obama Jay if you are at all interested, make your move, or let me know that I need to do so...I know i probaly am so not for you, too much older, too loud and opinionated,. I refer back to the desire blog...it's all about the desire thing...Is it , the want, more intense when you don't know if you can "have" it? I think so. God give me passion, common sense, acceptance of reality and ALWAYS!!! PLEASE !!!maintain my humor and potty mouth
Question remains: does this divorcee with the sassy new bedroom just continue to live like a nun and wait for desire's object, or does she let the cheffie in to her life and see how things play out.....cunundrum's suck!!!
He wants to know my work schedule so he can come watch the neighborhood and how I work with it??? Perhaps he can take me to lunch at Vincents? Dear me! ...positives...very political, very kind...carpenter who loves to work with his hands...hmm
Here's the cunundrum...suave and sophisticated and as seemingly kind as he is, I keep thinking about "Obama Jay"...desire and attraction are such pixie fuckers, always messing with my heart and head.
JHere's the deal for now; I'm not jumping into anything, So, Obama Jay if you are at all interested, make your move, or let me know that I need to do so...I know i probaly am so not for you, too much older, too loud and opinionated,. I refer back to the desire blog...it's all about the desire thing...Is it , the want, more intense when you don't know if you can "have" it? I think so. God give me passion, common sense, acceptance of reality and ALWAYS!!! PLEASE !!!maintain my humor and potty mouth
Question remains: does this divorcee with the sassy new bedroom just continue to live like a nun and wait for desire's object, or does she let the cheffie in to her life and see how things play out.....cunundrum's suck!!!
Friday, March 7, 2008
Friday, home alone and feeling like I accomplished something special
Friday night and feeling tres femme
It's Friday night, and everybody is busy, nobody to go out and talk politics or life with. I was thinking I would be bored and sad about not getting out of the house but it turns out it feels so sweet and safe to just sit here, smell the fresh lillies and freesia from Dabble. They are hanging sweet perfume throughout my entire house and making me remember how much I love spring in my garden. I am tired, so tired, and I guess staying home is probably a good idea.
This week I've torn my bedrooms, old and new, apart and have now moved back into my old, larger and fully re-tooled bedroom. In order to do it after nine months of living in the smaller room, I am re-claiming the larger and brighter space. Freshly painted, and filled with all things Mary, it has exorcised to exorcise old ghosts. I have "frenchified,"it...decorated it in pink, black and white, with lots and lots of reflective surfaces...It is so sweet, it seems healing and new. I laugh when I enter the room because it is SO SO the femme side of me, the side that I've always smothered, but secretly wondered what it would be like if freed to come into play. It is soft and silly and pretty... kitchy and full of light...ooo la la.
Tonight, I hope to sleep like a pampered french babe. I hope to dream sweet, quiet dreams of my garden in the spring...
It's Friday night, and everybody is busy, nobody to go out and talk politics or life with. I was thinking I would be bored and sad about not getting out of the house but it turns out it feels so sweet and safe to just sit here, smell the fresh lillies and freesia from Dabble. They are hanging sweet perfume throughout my entire house and making me remember how much I love spring in my garden. I am tired, so tired, and I guess staying home is probably a good idea.
This week I've torn my bedrooms, old and new, apart and have now moved back into my old, larger and fully re-tooled bedroom. In order to do it after nine months of living in the smaller room, I am re-claiming the larger and brighter space. Freshly painted, and filled with all things Mary, it has exorcised to exorcise old ghosts. I have "frenchified,"it...decorated it in pink, black and white, with lots and lots of reflective surfaces...It is so sweet, it seems healing and new. I laugh when I enter the room because it is SO SO the femme side of me, the side that I've always smothered, but secretly wondered what it would be like if freed to come into play. It is soft and silly and pretty... kitchy and full of light...ooo la la.
Tonight, I hope to sleep like a pampered french babe. I hope to dream sweet, quiet dreams of my garden in the spring...
Thursday, March 6, 2008
The mystery of desire
Had an interesting discussion last night with a friend regarding desire...When is it the most intense? When we are in love, when we want to be in love, when our hormones take over?, I wondered... Why do we feel it so intensely at different points in our lives, she wondered...
It set me to thinking, and i might add, feeling. I knowthat I have not allowed myself the luxury of overt "desire," as described by Webster's, who defines it as : 1. to wish or long for; crave, to want. 2. to ask for , solicit; request; hunger. 3. a longing or craving, as for something that brings satisfaction. 4. an expressed wish; request. 5. something desired. 6. sexual appetite or sexual urge...
I think it has something to do with the legal aspect of the seperation and my catholic upbringing...maybe the fact that mom stays here two days a week...maybe the fact that my daughters were appalled by their dad's infidelity...so many things.
I realize that with the court date set, the flood-gates of desire have opened...add to that, the finishing of my tattoo, which signifies, to me, new beginnings, along with equality and spirituality and a re-born physicality...there is an intense curiousity in me now about what it would feel like to be held, kissed, loved, as the new, single me. I feel so humbled by my own intense sense of re-awakened sexuality...and grateful that it has survived this divorce, intact.
There is a fucking incredible and wonderful new joy in looking at the men i encounter... front and center, my bad-ass cold press lover, intriguing political Jay whose sincerity i relish,..(I sense an inherent kindness and intelligence there) the pure make me blush joy of discussion and his simple handshake's touch made me desire more..how sweet, how incredible a gift whether he ever knows it... thanks Obama man for making me see myself able to desire again...to young Alex, who is asking about me all over the place,
Then on to my Music man, Corey, so quirky and smart and kind, A joy to talk with and a joy to share the beauty of song and lyrics with...what would that lead to I wonder...All maybe too young cronologically, but spiritually , dead on....
How then, do I recognize someon'es desire for me? Do I dare to presume they might feel desire for me? A gal can dream, and more than that, she can hope, for that basic, life-giving emotion...Damned grateful for that ...There is such a sweetness in the fact that two men who have awakened desire in me and are clueless to that fact...How, do I move forward? Do I sit and wait for desire to open like a present in front of me? Do I dare to be assertive? Or, is desire just a gift you feel...not mattering if it is a realistic sensation...is that the whole point? It is a want, not perhaps, a realistic expecatation.. maybe it don't matter...except I know now that I can and will be physical again, I know it's okay to want again, to touch again... Desire?
Come to mama.
It set me to thinking, and i might add, feeling. I knowthat I have not allowed myself the luxury of overt "desire," as described by Webster's, who defines it as : 1. to wish or long for; crave, to want. 2. to ask for , solicit; request; hunger. 3. a longing or craving, as for something that brings satisfaction. 4. an expressed wish; request. 5. something desired. 6. sexual appetite or sexual urge...
I think it has something to do with the legal aspect of the seperation and my catholic upbringing...maybe the fact that mom stays here two days a week...maybe the fact that my daughters were appalled by their dad's infidelity...so many things.
I realize that with the court date set, the flood-gates of desire have opened...add to that, the finishing of my tattoo, which signifies, to me, new beginnings, along with equality and spirituality and a re-born physicality...there is an intense curiousity in me now about what it would feel like to be held, kissed, loved, as the new, single me. I feel so humbled by my own intense sense of re-awakened sexuality...and grateful that it has survived this divorce, intact.
There is a fucking incredible and wonderful new joy in looking at the men i encounter... front and center, my bad-ass cold press lover, intriguing political Jay whose sincerity i relish,..(I sense an inherent kindness and intelligence there) the pure make me blush joy of discussion and his simple handshake's touch made me desire more..how sweet, how incredible a gift whether he ever knows it... thanks Obama man for making me see myself able to desire again...to young Alex, who is asking about me all over the place,
Then on to my Music man, Corey, so quirky and smart and kind, A joy to talk with and a joy to share the beauty of song and lyrics with...what would that lead to I wonder...All maybe too young cronologically, but spiritually , dead on....
How then, do I recognize someon'es desire for me? Do I dare to presume they might feel desire for me? A gal can dream, and more than that, she can hope, for that basic, life-giving emotion...Damned grateful for that ...There is such a sweetness in the fact that two men who have awakened desire in me and are clueless to that fact...How, do I move forward? Do I sit and wait for desire to open like a present in front of me? Do I dare to be assertive? Or, is desire just a gift you feel...not mattering if it is a realistic sensation...is that the whole point? It is a want, not perhaps, a realistic expecatation.. maybe it don't matter...except I know now that I can and will be physical again, I know it's okay to want again, to touch again... Desire?
Come to mama.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Question...how do you flirt if you blush so easily?
I'm laughing at myself...The smart, political man I am intrigued by comes into my business and even my employees behind the counter see me blush and make fun of me...
So I admit, I am attracted to the political man...can't believe I , me seasoned lady, Iblushed...I am so foolish and naive and guess what...I love that I am.
Here's my reality. I like his politics. I like him, instinctively. Even if we were to end up as just politcal friends...i would hope we could pass just politics to be friends in all ways. I can get over my crush to do that, tho he seems so sweet as well as so smart, I can't help myself...Still I would love to just sit and talk over coffee or wine and just appreciate his world view. Soso silly me...what makes me even dare to think he's interested.
I feel like life is coming to a head for me...I am now free legally and psychologically too. I am ready to connect with someone intelligent and kind...
Here goes...come on sweet men...dare to approch, i don't bite. well, maybe.
So I admit, I am attracted to the political man...can't believe I , me seasoned lady, Iblushed...I am so foolish and naive and guess what...I love that I am.
Here's my reality. I like his politics. I like him, instinctively. Even if we were to end up as just politcal friends...i would hope we could pass just politics to be friends in all ways. I can get over my crush to do that, tho he seems so sweet as well as so smart, I can't help myself...Still I would love to just sit and talk over coffee or wine and just appreciate his world view. Soso silly me...what makes me even dare to think he's interested.
I feel like life is coming to a head for me...I am now free legally and psychologically too. I am ready to connect with someone intelligent and kind...
Here goes...come on sweet men...dare to approch, i don't bite. well, maybe.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
the politics of hope and hatred collide
Racial and religious hatred spondored by Hillary /Divorce court on 3/17...My St Patty's Day?
Current mood is just disgusted
Went to dinner with friends to commemorate the birthday of my dear friend Kate who died two years ago. We talked about her life with her widow , her sister and her brother-in-law, a judge who hates Hillary's tactics almost as much as I do. We toasted Kate, looked at her photos and watched the returns come in...I wanted to cry.
Kate's widower, Adrian brought me flowers and wished me luck with my life and my divorce. He knows it is like a death and told me to call and talk if I need to. Sweet offer but he is just beginning to climb out from under his grief and he doesn't need to listen to me. Actually, I told him that I now think of my life and divorce as a new beginning...a positive one at that. And, I mean it. Sweet.
He and I found it ironic that I have to go to divorce court on my second favorite holiday...(I'm Irish, don't fuck with my St. Patty''s day, bastards!!!) From this year on, I will have to see it as my own personal indepence day and look to the freedom that it means for me.
Back to the politics of race and hatred...The fact that Hillary played games regarding the possibility that Obama might be "muslim" despite praying with him as a christian,,,the voters in Ohio (70%) saying race was critical in their choice for president...Shame on you Ohioans, shame on you Hillaryfor raising the specter of 9/11 with the muslim shit you are spewing...Dirty Rovian Shit!!!!
Shame on you Hillary for your dirty, lousy ,divisive politics. You are our own worst enemy...does it really boil down to victory at any price???
You are no better than Rove.
Did you forget your pledge to be concilliatory and think of the country first. Fuck yes you did. You make me sick, as a woman, as a democrat, with your choice of the kitchen sink strategy and your dirty politics crap. Burn in hell for what you have done to the chance to see women as rising above the old boy shit...you are no better than that shit-group...
You give women a bad name..SHAME SHAME SHAME ON YOU
Current mood is just disgusted
Went to dinner with friends to commemorate the birthday of my dear friend Kate who died two years ago. We talked about her life with her widow , her sister and her brother-in-law, a judge who hates Hillary's tactics almost as much as I do. We toasted Kate, looked at her photos and watched the returns come in...I wanted to cry.
Kate's widower, Adrian brought me flowers and wished me luck with my life and my divorce. He knows it is like a death and told me to call and talk if I need to. Sweet offer but he is just beginning to climb out from under his grief and he doesn't need to listen to me. Actually, I told him that I now think of my life and divorce as a new beginning...a positive one at that. And, I mean it. Sweet.
He and I found it ironic that I have to go to divorce court on my second favorite holiday...(I'm Irish, don't fuck with my St. Patty''s day, bastards!!!) From this year on, I will have to see it as my own personal indepence day and look to the freedom that it means for me.
Back to the politics of race and hatred...The fact that Hillary played games regarding the possibility that Obama might be "muslim" despite praying with him as a christian,,,the voters in Ohio (70%) saying race was critical in their choice for president...Shame on you Ohioans, shame on you Hillaryfor raising the specter of 9/11 with the muslim shit you are spewing...Dirty Rovian Shit!!!!
Shame on you Hillary for your dirty, lousy ,divisive politics. You are our own worst enemy...does it really boil down to victory at any price???
You are no better than Rove.
Did you forget your pledge to be concilliatory and think of the country first. Fuck yes you did. You make me sick, as a woman, as a democrat, with your choice of the kitchen sink strategy and your dirty politics crap. Burn in hell for what you have done to the chance to see women as rising above the old boy shit...you are no better than that shit-group...
You give women a bad name..SHAME SHAME SHAME ON YOU
Monday, March 3, 2008
Is there anyone who hasn't been damaged
Somedays, I think that life is so fickle. This week, many friends that I have lost track of, have re-appeared...It was so sweet to re-connect. It made me happy, like a gift. Yet, so many of these people that I have loved and cared about have been so beaten-up...cancer, loss of jobs, loss of love, loss of loved ones, loss of faith...Why re-appear now I wondered? Is it a lesson, a reminder of hope... I see that each of them rises...ready for the next round, ready for a new fight, NOT ready to concede to defeat.
I will be aware of that and hold it tight to my heart as I go to court for my divorce on Saint Patrick's day, my second favorite holiday after x-mas, to deal with my soon to be legally ex, (but he was my ex long ago, emotionally, after too many betrayals).
Do i let it, the court date, take my sweet day away, or do I think of it as my own personal 1916, Easter Irish uprising ...a day of liberation, a fight to the death of my self, as it were...I think I have to. Can't let it be stolen from me or from it's special status. So, I will go to court, stand my ground and be hopeful.
Will I make lemonade? Fuck yes. The final stage is now up to a judge, cuz after trying to do the collaborative thing and being shot down, I'll have to trust, as much as I can, in the law to do the fair thing. His lawyer won't, and sure as hell, he won't tell her to. I know I have told my lawyer there are parameters that she has to abide by...my parameters, fair parameters so I can get up each day and like myself....apparently he doesn't abide by that rule. LOL....I get letters from his lawyer on a regular basis reminding me that I am still legally married and must behaveby those rules...what the hell?...my lawyer has never sent him a letter calling for him to do so, (like he would have anyway...how many times over how many years should he have followed that advice.) We wouldn't be where we are had he been faithful.. What the f is that all about? Lol, soooo ironic...
Now, I say, please...Pray to whatever gods there are, that the system will do the right thing, I don;t want greedy payback...I just want out, fairness...by the letter of the law. I loved, he loved anyone but me. I lost.
just be kind. Let me be free and look to the future.
Anyone paying attention, Wish me luck, wish me life, wish me love, wish me touch and wish me hope that real love and understanding is somewhere down the road....if not love, at least connection at an honest level.
With this divorce, let me be a great example to my daughters, regarding fidelity, appreciation and forgiveness. Let me be a great example for accepting reality and moving forward. Let me be a great example for living one day at a time and feelng gratitude for each of those days. Let me be a GOOD woman, in a difficult time. Give me grace. And, please, let me always laugh...at myself, at the bullshit spread out before me, and at the absurd beauty that is LEGION, in this life.
Slante. Dios, cuidame.
I will be aware of that and hold it tight to my heart as I go to court for my divorce on Saint Patrick's day, my second favorite holiday after x-mas, to deal with my soon to be legally ex, (but he was my ex long ago, emotionally, after too many betrayals).
Do i let it, the court date, take my sweet day away, or do I think of it as my own personal 1916, Easter Irish uprising ...a day of liberation, a fight to the death of my self, as it were...I think I have to. Can't let it be stolen from me or from it's special status. So, I will go to court, stand my ground and be hopeful.
Will I make lemonade? Fuck yes. The final stage is now up to a judge, cuz after trying to do the collaborative thing and being shot down, I'll have to trust, as much as I can, in the law to do the fair thing. His lawyer won't, and sure as hell, he won't tell her to. I know I have told my lawyer there are parameters that she has to abide by...my parameters, fair parameters so I can get up each day and like myself....apparently he doesn't abide by that rule. LOL....I get letters from his lawyer on a regular basis reminding me that I am still legally married and must behaveby those rules...what the hell?...my lawyer has never sent him a letter calling for him to do so, (like he would have anyway...how many times over how many years should he have followed that advice.) We wouldn't be where we are had he been faithful.. What the f is that all about? Lol, soooo ironic...
Now, I say, please...Pray to whatever gods there are, that the system will do the right thing, I don;t want greedy payback...I just want out, fairness...by the letter of the law. I loved, he loved anyone but me. I lost.
just be kind. Let me be free and look to the future.
Anyone paying attention, Wish me luck, wish me life, wish me love, wish me touch and wish me hope that real love and understanding is somewhere down the road....if not love, at least connection at an honest level.
With this divorce, let me be a great example to my daughters, regarding fidelity, appreciation and forgiveness. Let me be a great example for accepting reality and moving forward. Let me be a great example for living one day at a time and feelng gratitude for each of those days. Let me be a GOOD woman, in a difficult time. Give me grace. And, please, let me always laugh...at myself, at the bullshit spread out before me, and at the absurd beauty that is LEGION, in this life.
Slante. Dios, cuidame.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
sweet sweet life
sweet life... adventures with friends
I think, no, I'm sure, that Gay dates are the best dates...Went to dinner with Jimmy H. He is my favorite damaged soul, much like me, fairly guarded, but loves with a love so true it is blinding his friends who have been loyal...It was my turn to buy dinner.
Tonight we started at Brit's Pub, met his co-workers, Norm, Anne, and the owner for a glass of wine and some lively political discussion and much laughter. Then, Jim and I walked down to the Ivy Hotel, tres chic... too much so for this un-hip mama... there we had dinner in the bar and tried a yummy spiced Margarita and appetizers...delish, tho i was reminded of that commercial where they wait and wait to get into the chic restaurant and end up eating "elf food".
Then, Liam Scott, the rep for Jamisons and some other liquors, bought our dinner and then martinis made from some Stoli "elite" vodka that went down like water but a water with some indescribable sweet, piney finish. Danger Stranger...
I think he was counting on that... Liam, a nice Irish man from Belfast,, was hilarious and obvious, and very married... He vociferously delighted in the fact that i wouldn't date a married men..."fuckin' old Fashioned" still, after the rebuff, he bought the dinner and kept asking why I would "date" a gay guy, but not a married man...LOL. Invited us to Shieks for a lap dance...yikes...
Date Jimmy? LOL I'd marry him but it would be like dating my own, male self, or my brother...So we shook hands with Liam and declined his invite to join him for more cocktails at the Local.
We went to Vincent's instead, and had a lovely nightcap with Vincent James the suave barkeep and the met staf who all love Jimmy. There, Jimmy introduced me to Jean Pierre, a tres political expatriot, who bought us pommes frite with bernaise sauce and proudly showed us his hand made putter, constructed in maple and balanced so perfectly, I really wanted to golf again...We laughed and talked, and he asked me where the shop was, telling me how much he loves talking politics and that he loved coffee second only to politics,,,so sweet and so ernest and i felt flattered
So, I've decided that I will have no expectations...I will just keep an open mind and talk politics, laugh with others, appreciate the small things that are instructive,like "Obama" Jay's political fervor, the sweetness and the comfortable feel of his hand on my waist, recognizing that it was so nice to respond in a good way to kind touch...
I know I will say no to the crazy Irish married man with the super sized expense account. I will hope Jay, Obama man, pops into the shop so that we might become friends, and continue the talking... I will enjoy Jean Pierre's love of politics, golf and wood-crafting...I will imagine what the future may hold with a wide open heart and mind.
I will enjoy, explore and learn from the uncertainties of my life and still recognize that it is normal and okay that I am looking for connection, for touch, and humor as well as political passion and curiosity. I say FUCK yes...Cheers to possibility! Cheers to smart and funny men.
I think, no, I'm sure, that Gay dates are the best dates...Went to dinner with Jimmy H. He is my favorite damaged soul, much like me, fairly guarded, but loves with a love so true it is blinding his friends who have been loyal...It was my turn to buy dinner.
Tonight we started at Brit's Pub, met his co-workers, Norm, Anne, and the owner for a glass of wine and some lively political discussion and much laughter. Then, Jim and I walked down to the Ivy Hotel, tres chic... too much so for this un-hip mama... there we had dinner in the bar and tried a yummy spiced Margarita and appetizers...delish, tho i was reminded of that commercial where they wait and wait to get into the chic restaurant and end up eating "elf food".
Then, Liam Scott, the rep for Jamisons and some other liquors, bought our dinner and then martinis made from some Stoli "elite" vodka that went down like water but a water with some indescribable sweet, piney finish. Danger Stranger...
I think he was counting on that... Liam, a nice Irish man from Belfast,, was hilarious and obvious, and very married... He vociferously delighted in the fact that i wouldn't date a married men..."fuckin' old Fashioned" still, after the rebuff, he bought the dinner and kept asking why I would "date" a gay guy, but not a married man...LOL. Invited us to Shieks for a lap dance...yikes...
Date Jimmy? LOL I'd marry him but it would be like dating my own, male self, or my brother...So we shook hands with Liam and declined his invite to join him for more cocktails at the Local.
We went to Vincent's instead, and had a lovely nightcap with Vincent James the suave barkeep and the met staf who all love Jimmy. There, Jimmy introduced me to Jean Pierre, a tres political expatriot, who bought us pommes frite with bernaise sauce and proudly showed us his hand made putter, constructed in maple and balanced so perfectly, I really wanted to golf again...We laughed and talked, and he asked me where the shop was, telling me how much he loves talking politics and that he loved coffee second only to politics,,,so sweet and so ernest and i felt flattered
So, I've decided that I will have no expectations...I will just keep an open mind and talk politics, laugh with others, appreciate the small things that are instructive,like "Obama" Jay's political fervor, the sweetness and the comfortable feel of his hand on my waist, recognizing that it was so nice to respond in a good way to kind touch...
I know I will say no to the crazy Irish married man with the super sized expense account. I will hope Jay, Obama man, pops into the shop so that we might become friends, and continue the talking... I will enjoy Jean Pierre's love of politics, golf and wood-crafting...I will imagine what the future may hold with a wide open heart and mind.
I will enjoy, explore and learn from the uncertainties of my life and still recognize that it is normal and okay that I am looking for connection, for touch, and humor as well as political passion and curiosity. I say FUCK yes...Cheers to possibility! Cheers to smart and funny men.
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