Watch your flowers growin’

I feel incredibly refreshed.

Last week I got sick. Drippy, semi-conscious, pre-Captain Tripps. I am pure misery when I am sick. I had to miss two days of this freelancing gig, which is money lost. Friday I had planned on working but the sick caused insomnia and I was up between 2:30 am and nearly 5, the whole time racked with nervousness about how I would get up and how I would be functional. I finally sucked it up and realized that even if I possibly could get to work, there was no way it would be a healthy move for me, so I went out to the couch and put the tv on and slept.

I then went on to have a very bad weekend with Joe. Combined with a very good weekend with Joe. But mostly bad. I cannot possibly go into the details, but I was wounded and upset and just… disturbed. And very disappointed with myself for not ending it, and a little scared for me about that. Funny (or not so much) how quickly things change. Joe’s reentry was all light and flowery fields; remember that?

my sister discusses cooking

Well, not really. This is a repeat performance of one of her finest posts.

Happy anniversary, IIRtZ!

Swimming, breathing, craving

 

It seems we swim deeper and deeper into the waters of ‘there is no right or wrong answer’.

And it seems we are not swimming together at all. Each of us swimming, each in the sea. And then we come up, from time to time, for air. And we are the air for the other.

When we come together to breathe… the breathing is deeper. The air is sweeter. Each time deeper. Each respite sweeter. Together—breathe in. Together—exhale. Eyes on eyes. A cycle that is impenetrable.

And when it’s time to get out of the water altogether, we go our separate ways. Until it’s time to swim again.

 

This latest is a drastic turn from walking hand in hand together toward a portal. Toward anything. My hand is nowhere near this. It’s been harshly dropped. Swimming alone. I don’t feel I have a friend in this. And yet I am craving a breath of air.

I don’t see this ending well for me.

 

Performing at a way fun event

Next weekend… the event is called Jeff Mach’s Labyrinth. Please check it out, poke around, and then… come! I’m taking a (I don’t think it’s ‘the’) stage Saturday, 9/29, at 2 pm for a 45 minute set. Come meet me. Come hear me sing. Come despite me. This thing is gonna be a way good time.

(And my friend Corinna will be hosting a party in her vending room. Come to that too! Unless you’re creepy.)

Friday NephBlogging: the Benjamin in the cupboard

Yeah I still have this rotten cold and I didn’t work Wednesday and then yesterday I did (and was a bit of a rock star, if I don’t say so myself) but then last night I woke up every half hour to pee and at 2:30 am I couldn’t go back to sleep. Not one bit. So I didn’t work again today. Which is AWESOME when you’re hourly.

So anyway, here’s the kid. Damn cutest kid alive. Arthur, my oldest neph, calls him hypnotic.

I LOVE it in here!

Ironically, I also have a cold in my nose

Last night a scratchy throat (mine) was painful enough to wake me up. Glands are swollen and I’m all a’sniffles as well. Did not work today, and tomorrow they actually need me, so I’m going in. I slept half the day and drank lots of water and tea and Emercen-C.

Sucks! It always sucks to be sick. It sucks just a little more when you’re unemployed and get no sick time.

I have a code in my doze

I just looked at my blog and, with the exception of the one preceding this one (something in the title about the moon up above), they appear to all be bold and underlined.

But when I check the code they are fine.

They all just… CHANGED???

I freaking give up.

See the moon up above. Reach out and get it…

My weekend—the overview
I had a beautiful and productive weekend. And it was hard.

The most interesting aspect of that was, that while it was hard, during the actual me-not-enjoying-myself parts, I carried the awareness that the bad feelings would wash away, and that the lasting impression would be that the overall experience was wonderful.

And yesterday confirmed; I felt great.

(Now, if only that knowledge were enough to make the bad feelings go away.)

A comment to Heidi

A woman named Heidi bravely told her story of being immobilized. She weighs over 500 pounds, and has made the decision to have weight loss surgery. She really. Doesn’t. Want. The surgery. Her story is fascinating. Please go read it. I’ll wait.

Okay, here are my words to Heidi:

I had WLS. I was not as opposed to it as you are. I bought into the whole thing.… after years and years and years of working the fat acceptance angle, I finally embraced my desire to ‘get it fixed’. And it’s been hard for me, marrying all the truths.

Which isn’t you at all. And I am so sad for you that you are having this surgery while it opposes everything you believe in, and I am sad for you at this life you’ve been living these days. And blown the fuck away by your bravery.

Here’s the part that your story called up for me.

Friday Nephblogging–Behind the wheel (and in and over and through)

Benjamin is now 17 months old. So why not give him the keys to the car?

(No, I don’t know what is wrong with the code and what the @&$% is causing there to be six miles of space before you can see the first picture. Just scroll, please.)

My brother puts the keys in the ignition and turns it halfway. There is not a knob, button, or lever that this kid is not interested in turning (or pushing, or… whatever you do with a lever).

Eventually my brother asks me to turn the key the rest of the way. Because unless the engine is on, Benjamin can’t really turn the steering wheel. Which he likes doing.

I’m not gonna lie… he is the cutest thing going, and also endlessly fascinating to watch. Not only because he is the cutest thing going, but also because he is kind of brilliant and clever and his curiosity and sophistication are really beautiful.

But uhh… I suspect my brother will someday, and not too far away from now, regret his decision to give the kid the keys to the car. Just a guess.