Last day of 2008.

Whoa.


I remember standing in front of mirrors in my early adolescence
when suddenly
the movement of time,
mortality,
and it's implications
became more apparent.

I wondered where I'd be,
who'd I be with
and what I would be doing.

I wondered if I would remember wondering.

The answers are
in La Marque, Texas,
with Tony and four kids
working in a small private school
and getting ready to go to Iraq.

And I do remember wondering.
Obviously.

This time last year, I was awaiting test results.
No cancer.

I was emeshed in milsupport,
completely and alternately irritated or exasperated with an insensitive Marine
He's still exasperating,
but I'm no longer irritated.

enamoured with W.H. Auden
"my working week, my Sunday rest"

horrified at my 4 year olds use of pee in sibling biowarfare
"Ewwwww...he got it in my MOUTH!!!"

Writing a warning letter to my 13 year old self
Peg never did do that meme. I bet she'd write a great letter

Trying to understand where faith fit--that's still a stumper for me.
*SighshrugSigh*
I asked it to take a number.

I was madly cleaning out the old and bringing in the new
doing the same thing this year...


and finally
trying very hard to come to terms with me after a car accident
and the subsequent first shift--
the gradual tremble under my feet--
the uprooting
or maybe we can call it new growth.

dunno

I should have put that on my post yesterday as something I learned.
Growth is messy
and painful
and even alarming--
especially if you don't recognize it as growth.


I have no resolutions though.
I have some hope that a better life awaits.
I have little temerity and thus believe I can affect that.

I have been moving through my days the last month
as the end of February approaches
when sometimes


"HOLY. FUCKING. SHIT. I'M GOING TO IRAQ. "

squeaks out-
roots me to a floor,
simultaneously firing every synaptic link I have.
I never feel sick, or worried.
Just amped up.
like I get before those kinds of workouts intended to make one cry like a little girl.

At those times
I just think what I think in the gym: Let's hit it.


I have had a year of
people at my elbow,
people at my throat,
demons chasing/chased,
heart floating
stomach wrenching,
body pounding
knee scuffing
elbow scraping
soul testing
standing in the rain
question asking--ok ok sometimes answer demanding
temper tantrum type

experiences.


Never a dull moment.
The year ahead looks not different, in anything, but actualization


Iraq will most likely be a bubble.


No friends
No family
No familiar paradigms
Just me and what comes with me in my head.


A trial.
A journey.
A learning.

Someone sent me a email the other day with some music.
I'm leaving everyone with the same gift.
I hope you will listen to it.

Especially, if you are about to face new challenges this year.
To all my friends and family I have a chance to see of a day
To those who I only see here in cyberspace
Have a very Happy New Year.
I appreciate all of you very much.
Each of you have given me wonderful gifts of time and self.


And K.
Thank you, for the music.
It was fitting.

Meanwhile back in the year one
When you belonged to no one
You didn't stand a chance son
If your pants were undone

'Cause you were bred for humanity
And sold to society
One day you'll wake up in the present day
A million generations removed from expectations
Of being who you really want to be

Skating away, skating away, skating away
On the thin ice of the new day

So as you push off from the shore
Won't you turn your head once more
And make your peace with everyone
For those who choose to stay
Will live just one more day
To do the things they should have done

And as you cross the wilderness
A-spinning in your emptiness
You feel you have to pray
Looking for a sign that the universal mind
Has written you into the passion play

Skating away, skating away, skating away
On the thin ice of the new day

And as you cross the circle line
Well, the ice-wall creaks behind
You're a rabbit on the run
And the silver splinters fly
In the corner of your eye
Shining in the setting sun

Well, do you ever get the feeling
That the story's too damn real
And in the present tense
Or that everybody's on the stage
And it seems like you're the only
Person sitting in the audience

Skating away,
skating away,
skating away

XOXO
Hello!!!

I just read my comments...
hey fixed the font.

Have some stuff to put up.
Won't be til later tonight, though.

Hope everyone is enjoying their Sunday night.

I'm going to go get a drink and finish some editting.

Yes.
In that order!!!
A girl has to have her priorities.

Heehee.

NONE of my shopping is done!
ACK!!!!!
I've never waited this late in the season.
I got nothin'.

ZIP
Zero
Nada
Bupkus
I need to move my ass.

I also should have came clean with the hubster and said:
"Hell yes, I want to exchange gifts."
I don't care WHAT gift.
It's the thought process I want.
I won't though.
I always get stuck in this situation.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

More on my blog reads.
First one is Linda.
She is one of my first blogs I remember reading.
She's out of Australia.
With a fine eye for detail, she takes you where she goes.

Description
Introspection
Honesty
Clarity of prose

You find all that on her blog.

Where Karma Meets Camera is another place I like to visit.

With Linda you see the picture she paints with her minds eye.

With JustHay you see the pics she paints with her Nikon.

Wow.

Not only that, but like Linda, she also posts in an honest, introspective way with gentle humor at the perils of motherhood, her love for all things Jack Black and her day to day life in New Zealand.

My last pimp, Ramblings of an Earthmama, is someone I also know in real life. She has since moved away so we don't see each other much anymore, but we started blogging about the same time (she may have started earlier???) and share some history.

She would call herself morbidly intense.

Yuh.

She is.

It takes one to know one.

We also share a love of Ann LaMott, fried chicken, potato chips and wine.

I am never unsurprised at her willingness to dig deep and she has a way of offering things to others that gives comfort and provokes thought.

~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Okay, that's it for now.

More blogs tomorrow.

I have to go work on some projects as I get ready for life in Iraq.

I hope everyone is enjoying their holiday.

Me: "Hey honey, I've noticed you have been sending me "I love you" texts.
Awww.

Phrase o' the day:

"That shit ain't right."

Situational example:
Hope up this early on a Saturday to get dressed and go to work.
Oh!
Have I mentioned I'm a teacher?
Have I mentioned I have spent a few minutes each day trying to ascertain which ASSHAT decided to sign up the ENTIRE faculty for an inservice on not just a Saturday which is Godless enough, but even more heretical on the ONLY Saturday this month not already eaten up with holiday or family obligations?

When I find out who did it, I'm making swift, creative retribution my personal goal.

A person is nothing without a goal.

Feel free to leave your own situational example.

It'll be like getting in a circle and sharing our feelings
only without the circle.

Best example determined by a panel of...
(ummm dunno yet, I haven't asked anyone yet, I'm just making this shit up as I go along)
gets a blog write up and interview

or a big kiss on the mouth.

I know.
Try to contain yourself.

Best thing I saw today: Who needs a damn tree?

Funniest thing I heard today that I couldn't laugh at out right:
My only daughter complaining about a teacher, "she's a big sacka stupid, dad!"

Today's best email line dialogue:
Me: I have glitter up my nose. I think I even ate some at lunch...
Them: Hope, you gotta lay off the glitter, darlin'. That's just a path you don't wanna start down. You start off just doin' it recreationally, and at parties and stuff and the next thing you know you're sellin' the good silverware to some sleazy glitter dealer in a back alley somewhere. I just don't wanna see that happen to you.

I have been wheezing the Youtube juice today trying to deny school is looming in less than 15 hours...sigh.

Blech.

All the week off did was make me want another week off. Do you know the worst three weeks in a school year are those between Thanksgiving and Christmas? Seriously. I suspect tryptophan affects synaptic firing cause when these kiddos come back turkey gravy has more neural activity going on.




Two favorite things of the day:
White and Nerdy
Yes. I know. I'm easily entertained. That seriously cannot come come as a surprise to anyone.

and

Gandalf vs. Bogroth.
"YOU SHALL NOT PASS!!!"
One of my favoirte movie lines of all time.

Second favorite: Gandalf's line at the other end of this scene:
edit (thanks Sarah): "I threw down my enemy and smote his ruin on the mountainside."

Good stuff.

Heard more from Taji today.

You could hear the aircraft in the background and a unit offering artillery support to a position probably miles from camp.

In closer proximity, but still over 7000 miles by this phone connection, doors were slamming as classes changed and instructors came in with questions for the director and to let him know it was pouring rain and one of the company trucks had a window down.

My office is being planned and my living quarters will be assigned once the contract is submitted in December.

Now I wait for my passport and try to make myself believe this isn't all going to evaporate any minute.

It's so damn quiet here.

The night's temperament such a stark contrast to that of Thanksgiving day.

I have a million things flying around in my head.
Work
home
milsupport

The school break is 2/3's of the way over.

My boss in Taji gave me a call today confirming airline tickets and whether I prefer window or aisle.

I didn't have time to absorb it while I was in the midst of everything else today.

Now those last two words ring in my ears.

Window or aisle.

Kabul, Afghanistan July 2008

Hindu Kush range


Some young guys from 6-4 Cavalry are out here on Combat Outpost Lowell.

It's their first deployment in Nuristan,

a lethal, remote province in northeast Afghanistan near Pakistan.

They are about to spend their respective 19th or 20 somethingth Thanksgivings

10,000 ft above sea level

in unheated, rock buildings

amidst new fallen snow

and amongst people who's sole purpose for living is seeing these calvarymen dead

and who pursue this endeavor at least once or twice a day.

Be sure to keep these men in mind.

I'll be posting more about them and what we can do for them very soon.

Just tying up some loose ends.

We are both interested in reading what everybody has to say on this topic. I'm supposed to send him the comments so he can answer, so show the boy some love. You know you wanna!!!

Yeah, it's a tough job, but someone has to support them.

I'm such a giver.

Okay so I know the question of the day is
W_T_F
are you doing going to Iraq??

Shrug.

I'm goin'.

I'll be working as an instructor...

training other instructors
developing curriculum
offering administrative support

and basically making a lot of money
and
more importantly,
taking up a challenge.

I need one.
I need many.

I'm just figuring that out.
The importance of having one I mean.

Do I know, if I can manage myself with an almost entirely male population all loaded up on testosterone and machismo?

Nope.

Do I know if I am doing the right thing by my family?

No, I don't know that either.

Do I know, if I'll be safe in the middle of the Sunni Triangle?

nuh uh...

But.
I'm sure as hell going to find out.

I know I have mentioned in the past that at one time I was a special events florist. I owned a company in Houston. I called the post Working and Breathing or some such thing and it was an appropriate title.

I'm one of those people who has to be working.
HARD.
I get bored when things get too routine or offer no challenge.

Floral work was great because a bride was rarely unchallenging, nor was her venue, her other contractors or the inevitable planner whether hired or self proclaimed--every single family has at least one obnoxious aunt or second cousin...it's a rule.

Still I loved the ebb and flow of the week.

By Wednesday floral would come in to be processed and fussed over.
By Thursday I was assigning tasks and making sure my arrangers were copying my designs well.
By Friday things were tagged and lists were checked-
what truck was going where with who,etc.

Running all along side that was the handholding, the phone calls, the snags with the wholesalers, the logistics--all of it. Maps, photographer schedules, when linen companies would be throwing the linen, when the usually medicated cake lady would have the cake ready...lots of details. for an end product that was expected to look effortless.

Loved it.
The Devil's in the details and man--
He and I
hung
out.

Now granted I expect that which contributed to the final demise of my business was mostly being no longer able to do more than think:

Come on people
This is floral work.
You aren't even going to really see it, you'll be so hung up on the blur of the day and in 6 months you'll be pissed you blew it on hydrangea and not a down payment on a house.

Still at the time it served it's purpose.
It provided the hard I needed.


Fast forward 6 years and I get this call from an old client on Tuesday.
How she found me I still don't know, but she did.

She wanted flowers for her other daughter's wedding.

(Sigh.)

Just a couple of pieces she said.

(Sigh.)

No one else would do she said.

(Sigh. )

Hmmmm, I think.

It might be nice to see if I still have the hands and eyes for it.
The money would be handy, too.

Still.
Ugh.
Sigh.

Awww--- what the hell?
I mean really.
Isn't going to be like riding a bike?
What's the worse that can happen?
I'll come up with something mediocre and she'll never call me again.

The lure to be creative drew me in and made my tongue form the letters
OK.

"Okay," I said, "I'll do it."

"You really should get back into the business," she said, "I can't believe you've been at home THIS long."

I know.
I can't believe it either I think.
I've been home with 4 kids for five years and no one has fitted me for an orange jumpsuit or flip flops.
I have have managed to avoid any and all felony convictions navigating Momminess.


"Think about coming back," she presses.

"Nah."
This I said out loud.
"You can't go back."
I said that out loud, too.
It sounded stark hanging in the air as we spoke via cellphone.
But it was also subtly comforting.

I'm finally getting that one.
I think this as I am hanging up and letting what I said out loud resonate.

Not only can't I go back.
I don't want to.

So
today--

I have flowers on my porch waiting for my hands and this wedding tonight--
Something my past brought.

and

I have an email regarding my job in Iraq--
Something my future sent.

I'll be working hard again soon it seems--just around the last week in February.

Note: I had to edit this. I wrote it early this morning and it seems my normal biorhythms will affect my ability to communicate.ha. Thank you to Fairy for being the first one to suck it up and say something along the lines of: "Huh, what are you talking about woman?" I wondered why no one had commented.
--------------------------------
The hair on the back of my neck stood up.
Not because I was the only one at work--
(incidentally, I like to work late,
in fact I don't even consider myself fully conscious until after 4 pm night person that I am).
or because it was dark
or because I don't generally believe in the paranormal.
well other than being accused of not being normal myself.

Still
Like I said, the hair on my neck was up on end night before last.

Ohmyhell," I thought straining to see and hear.

(Thanks for the new expletive L, I knew it would come in handy when I read it on your blog
just not this soon or for this kind of reason.)

Trying to reason things out did not correlate to other human processes,
in this case the process being thought--
I was trying to identify the noises I was hearing from the other part of the school. I was trying to be rational and not choke on my heart now pounding somewhere up around my tonsils as the sounds came from down and across the hall.

I looked down the hallway transformed from a lack of light.
The normally short, sunny, hallway with pictures of scarecrows and pilgrims plastered on the walls
was now a narrow, incredibly long portal
which I wouldn't run down now if I was on fire
and water was on the other end.


"Hello?"
Is anyone there?" I say trying to sound casual and vague.

Sick pause.

"Why are you asking that you idiot?" I think.
"It's 130 in the morning.
No one that you WANT to know is there, is there,
so why are you trying to strike up a conversation with them?
Finish painting your damn flag for Veteran's Day,
get your purse
and
get
the
fuck
out,
dumbass."

Logic and processing were starting to jibe.

Good plan, I think.

Fast forward to playground the next day.
Two faculty were standing on the steps having a chat.

I bypass pleasantries.
Actually,
I probably totally interrupted the conversation
about just how afflicted one of the kindergartners is
as we all watch him fall off the back end of the swing for the fourth brain stem bruising time to find out more about the night before from my colleagues.

"So umm..when did someone plan on telling the new girl?"

They look at me with eyebrows up.

"Uh huh...don't look at me like that.
When had you brilliant people planned on mentioning the 'night' faculty to me?"

"You,"pointing to the Blond, "went to school here and
"You,"pointing to the Brunette, "were here when she, pointing to the Blondie, was toting her Scooby Doo lunch box. You both have to know something about whatever is wandering around in that school at night."

Their eyes get bigger.

"WTF people?"
By this time I'm laughing and gauging a the 'should we tell her looks' they are exchanging.

"Spill!!!!, I say, then rethink.

"No wait.
I'll tell you what I heard and you just tell me I'm not crazy.
It's a good plan.
K?"

They nod.

"Okay here goes," I say as I tick things off on my fingers.

"Doors slamming,
someone walking with keys in their pocket,
and knobs turning on the doors.
How 'bout that?"

I look from one of them to the other them expectantly in a kind of 'so where is your homework?' kind of way.

They both start in at the same time:

"Well you have been coming late since school started and you never said anything"
"We wondered, but you never--"

I interrupted them for the second time silently comparing the goosebumps on my arms to theirs...

"Yeah yeah...what were you waiting for--the bad Monday night movie to come out???
I mean.
COME
ON
PEOPLE.
Why didn't anyone tell me about the ghost or whatever it is in there?"

"Yep," nods the brunette to the blond, "She definitely heard him."

"Ohmyhell...," I mutter.

"Well," the brunette goes on, "did you hear any growling? He'll growl at you sometimes."

OH.
MY.
HELL!!!!
now they know the new expletive,too.

Let me tell you something dear readers, I will never be hearing any freaking growling,
much less
door slamming,
knob turning
or key rattling again
cause, I am now officially a morning person.

Upon discussing my son Matthew's foray with dad to the Halloween carnival, I was regaled with tales related to all manner of fawning, spoiling and petting of my youngest offspring by teachers and student body of the girl persuasion...seems my little guy is quite the big man on campus.

I wonder if a lack of a self image problem at four bodes well or not?

Helping mom with mail to some Marines day before yesterday.

Got hammered with a bug this week missed posting, but wanted to get this down for posterity.

Oh and literary credit to 1st Sgt Mike Burke for the title. I totally forgot about that childhood chant...funny aside is it's exactly what my husband said when I told him what had happened. So I'm not sure if the twisted mind is a function of the Corps or the Y chromosome...

Took the kids to eat last night.

I think I'm coming down with whatever Tony had so wasn't up to cooking.

Seems someone at school taught Matthew the word diarrhea.

Matthew *likes* saying this new word.

Jake:
Mom, I need to go to the bathroom.

Mom:
Go ahead.

Matthew:
(As Jake is walking away from the table-)
Hey Jake! JAKE!!!
You got the diaRRHEaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa????!!!!
(turning to mom knowingly)

MOM...Jake got the diaRRHEaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.

Mom from under the table:
Shhh Matthew...NO he doesn't have that.

Matthew adjusting decibel level to eardrum bleeding:
Have what?
The diaRRHEaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa?!

Mom in low mortified Mom hiss:
MATTHEW
Knock it off, boy!!!

Matthew:
(solemnly nodding in a whisper)
I think I have the diaRRHEaaaaaaaaaaaa.

Get home
before Mom goes into the house from the car,
Mom starts raking the lawn of debris that got left
(it was killing the grass where it sat waiting for pickup
it was one of those 'I don't care if I'm in heels I have GOT to get to this' things.)
Ten minutes later look up and Matthew is standing in the frontdoorway...Yelling at the top of his lungs

Mom!!
MOM!!!
MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

Smugly jabbing a finger down at his drawers and what is running down his leg.

I TOLD you I had the diaRRHEA!!!

I suppose there was a reason he learned the word
and I am further going to guess it was from a classmate who sits in close proximity.

All trials are heaped on the mother.

Power came on at noon.

Holy hell...

(and hellish it was.)

No one mentions more than the heat and eternal damnation of hell much,

but I am entirely certain hell also has 100% humidity and mosquitoes.

I wondered

as we were going on week 3 with no power

how long it would be

before one's mind acclimated to the discomfort?

I wasn't sure.

Well
only sure
that it sure as hell takes longer than a couple of weeks to acclimate to sudden changes in physical levels of comfort.

This called to mind
how different this is
from how long it takes to acclimate yourself to mental levels of discomfort...

Which in turn made me realize
you can't make the same distinction about mental discomfort
because most levels of mental discomfort don't come on suddenly...

those kinds are sneakier
I mean they are
for me anyway...
it's been a long slow process
I suppose.

I don't recommend in either case experiencing both kinds at the same time though...

You wind up making really sorry assed blogposts for one thing.



Normally,
(and I use that word loosely in references where I am involved )

I consider myself fairly low maintenance.
I don't have a lot of things that I need to make me happy in the worldly sense and I can put up with hassles, things breaking, not having something in the house work (member the sink? guess who's still screwing with that??)

and seriously.
No fancy haircuts, manicures or pedicures.
Not a big shopper.
Not a shopper period.
Not a jewelry hound
I think I have been given flowers twice in the last 16 years of marriage and 3 of dating.

.................
........


I wonder though if I am high maintenance in the mind sense?


It's starting to occur to me that I just might be.

I'm lousy at hanging in without some sort of feedback from my significant other.
I'm resentful at his attempts when it is so obviously herniating and dis pleasuring him when he does make one.

Truth: I am really pissed Tony had us stay for the storm. I did my best to mitigate my fear by being prepared,

but--
ack...
I was afraid for me and the kids
and thoroughly pissed that he couldn't see it
or very disappointed that he wouldn't
and that he didn't factor that into his decision,
when that is always what I do when I make decisions where he is concerned.

I frankly feel stupid for doing it--
not because of the give and take of it,

but because handling him this way may not be what he values in the first place.

Operating under this kind of false assumption puts me on the short school bus.
No lie.

Making sacrifices,
learning
stretching
bending
reaching

to do things or see things

or even accept things

that make no difference to him
one way or the other.

It feels pretty fucking stupid.

Obviously I have a serious problem with feeling not just stupid--

but
FUCKING STUPID.


I'll think about this more in AC and see if the analysis is any less harsh or potty mouthed.

I suspect it might be.

Though I wonder if it is because I'm being bought off by the change in my worldly state (read here humidity/temperature levels)

or a change in my mental one...snort.

which I will no further delve into today.

Still living in a no power, no news bubble.
Coupled with poor marital communication
and a general sense that even the suckiness of living
and learning shit and maybe needing to learn it again...
hell
and again and AGAIN--

can't last forever.

...right?

I mean---

right?

go ahead

humor me.

While God in any previously religious format
holds nothing for me now
I do think about this poem from time to time
and about being able to empty yourself to a higher power

and okay
so I question that idea often
and hold anything that involves submission or acquiesence suspect,
I do go back to this prayer from time to time
as its tone conveys a sense of where I find myself
as I claw my way through midlife.

grimly determined and hopeful that you get some sort of space in the Universe for making a damn effort.

My Lord God
I have no idea where I am going.
I do not see the road ahead of me.
I cannot know for certain where it will end.
Nor do I really know myself,
and the fact that I think I am following
your will does not mean
that I am actually doing so.
But I believe that my desire to please you
does in fact please you.
And I hope that I have that desire
in all that I am doing.
I hope that I will never do anything
apart from that desire.
And I know that if I do this
you will lead me by the right road
though I may know nothing about it.
Therefore will I trust you always
though I may seem to be lost
and in the shadow of death.
I will not fear,
for you are ever with me,
and you will never leave me
to face my perils alone.
Thomas Merton (1915-1968)

Dear Officers, Deputy Sheriffs & Linemen,

I'm sorry you have to serve sorry ass, self entitled whiners.

I'm sorry you have to listen to self-absorbed, unprepared wastes of space who refuse to do anything about their predicament, but make sarcastic, unkind remarks about how you are doing your job.

I'm sorry you have to put up with that in lieu of looking after the homes you lost or that were damaged.

I'm sorry you can't be with your wife or husband taking care of the needs your family has.

I'm sorry people have so little number sense they can't get what 4.3 million people out without power really means.

I'm sorry you have to grit your teeth and let all the nasty comments about where you should really be or what you should be doing and not give some of these folks, barely evolved past apes, a piece of your mind or at the very least a well deserved punch in the mouth.

I want to thank you for standing out in a store parking lot to make sure people get in safely and fairly.

I want to thank you for standing out in the middle of a busy intersection with no water directing traffic for hours at a time.

I want to thank you for pulling double shifts, sleeping at work and eating out of cans and boxes so there are enough of you to man a work crew or patrol for looters round the clock.

I want to thank you for stopping to help that little old lady down the street get her groceries out of the car and taking the branches off the playground equipment so the kids in the neighborhood could play.

I want you to thank you for answering the same damn questions over and over without passing out from exasperation. Surely you risk neurons working with some of us.

You all hear a lot in a day, but somehow I don't think you hear enough thank yous.

So.

Thank you.

This has to be short...it's a race against the generator...

I stole a flag today.

You know now that I think about it.

Stole is such an ugly word.

I prefer rescue.

I rescued a US flag today.

better.

I was driving down a feeder road and noticed Old Glory on a flag pole that was laying at about a thrity degree angle to the ground...the flag itself was in knots and shreds.

Without another thought other than grade A pissed off ones
I pulled into the Chevron and went in looking for the owner.

"Is that ya'lls flag pole there on the corner?

"What? oh...Yes."

"Hey man, you can't just leave our flag out there like that. It's not right."

Thick middle Eastern accent...
"Madam we are in a hurricane, we have no time for that."

"Oh yeah?
You have time to sell warm beer and soda to Americans
and you took time to come here and run a business in America...
what say you go on out there and take care of that American flag you took the time to fly?"

"Madam we have been very busy--

I interrupt him...

You can't be too busy that hurricane was three days ago
and I know for a fact your doors were open right after noon on Saturday...man! That's three days that flag has been left out there like that. Show some respect!"

"If you don't like it lady (yup he was mad I went from Madam to Lady) you go take it down"

"No problem, I'll be happy to help you."

"Never mind! NEver mind I will do it!"

"When?"

"Do not bother me, lady, I am very busy."

"YOU BETTER TAKE DOWN THAT FLAG!"

Hope leaves, but not before she notices she had a little audience and not just any audience, but homeschool mama audience..."hello Hope, umm so how are things???mind you I have been off homeschool radar for about a three months so this hope sighting will precede me, I am sure...poor woman was pretty mortified, but I was feeling GREAT!!

I hadn't chewed anyone's ass in a while...ahhhh

It's like riding a bike.

So anyway I go home find my camera, scissors and come back to the scene of the desecration.

I manage to reach the bottom clip of the flag and get that down, but the top part I have to jump up and grab the pole to reach...then I put an ankle over the pole to hold it down low enough to reach it with my other hand.

I'm pretty pleased with how things ar going and notice that the two utility guys waiting to use the phone are pretty pleased, too.

I grin.
Hop down.

Walk to the car and put the flag through the open window of my car.
Still smiling conspiratorily at my witnesses I walk around, get in and drive off.

I figure I had to take it.
If that asshole didnt' know how to fly our flag properly,
he sure as hell wouldn't know how to discard it either.

So Marci, see there??
I told you sooner or later I'd have to make a scene somewhere.
It was only a matter of time...

I went to bed last night for the first time
in a way I hadn't in a long time.

I went before:

I was completely tapped out
and wouldn't remember the walk to my bedroom

I had passed out on the couch

or

did the slow fade during the middle of a book or movie.

It was just me and my brain
and
while that may seem particularly scary to those who know me IRL
I have to say
it was moderately--
(ok pretty damn)
for me, too.

Not just because of the company I have to keep,
(me and my brain),
but because

I
hate
hate
hate
the dark.

hate.
it.

With no power
not only is it dark,
but it's deathly quiet.
even the crickets weren't doing their usually chirpy jibber jabber.

That black forbidding background
against a mind dying to process the day
is not a prospect I was enthused over.

To combat my predicament
I texted a friend who I knew would be as unsupportive
as I was of myself in this disgusting situation--

I said I hate being afraid of the dark
I only hate more that I have made no inroads with this weakness in the last forty years.

So I texted
and
okay
okay
I admit it...
texting gave me a little light from the LCD...

so anyway

The texts went back and forth
and
after I was through asserting I was pretty sure the flesh eating zombies were far more interested in cocky, arrogant prototypical jarhead meat than they would ever be of Texas mama meat,

I wondered if said friend would be equally disgusted to know
he inadvertantly offered some aid and comfort
by the very act of pushing "send"?
when he texted advice to "look out for what was behind me" or when he said there were "reports of undead roaming the streets of Houston" did it occur to him that the screen lit RIGHT UP...haaa.

I'll say it for him..."daaaaaaaamit.."

soon after

while I laid at the foot of the bed
and a breeze blew in from the window over me,

I noticed the cool air also cut through to my mind
and all the thoughts that I hadn't had time to do much with
in the middle of meal making,
or recon trips to see
what was open,
what roads were clear
and if friends and families' homes were okay.

I laid there straining to make out objects in the dark
and slowly began to focus and be grateful for the breeze
and how perfectly it seemed to be reaching through the window
and laying hands on me, hot and damp
in spite of a
a tank and running shorts and favorite poncho liner...(google that...everyone should have a poncho liner)

the air seemed to soften me up like a masseuse might after a long run
or a tough workout on the mats
it reminded me I was grateful for a few other things
and so I pulled a Pollyana
and put my mind to ticking through the 'glads'
Doing this afforded me an ability to
and set aside
just how much the dark was trying to fold in on me.

I thought about how well stocked we had been
how the children had had hot meals and snacks and a mama unworried about providing.

My mind went to the long line I had seen which had gone from the front door of a conveneinece store to the street selling warm beer--seems there was an altercation because there were also three police cruisers and an ambulance hauling someone away... How is this a 'glad'??

Well I'm glad I'm not so fucked up
I'll stand in a long freaking line for hot beer
in broad daylight
in front of God and everybody
advertising that fact
much less be willing to get my ass kicked over it

and I'm glad that when this stuff happened over gas a few days earlier
I was able to jump out of the way and
not get hit by a highly pissed off citizen still enraged over loosing his place in the gas line...
only thing that sob said when I took my hands off the hood of his car
and my feet landed back on the cement was,
"oh man, that coulda been expensive..."
I wanted to punch him in his liver.
(yeah yeah,but for me violent thoughts can BE a 'glad'. It just all depends.)

I thought about the looters I chased off with my car and how there was a part of me that scared me when I realized how much that part of me wanted to run them over with my car. (refer back to previous scenario...it's aaallllll about the payback.)

Finally, I thought about all the times being fit,
or having taken the time to plan and think through what was going on
or about to happen with this hurricane
had made the road a little more smooth for us.
Contingency plans make me quiver I tell ya!
Hey, I can jump Crown Vic bumpers can't I? I'm getting fitted for my cape anyday...

(It's amazing to note just how collectively we as a community ride the line between order and chaos--but that is another post.)

Anyway after all those glads...I must have fallen asleep.

Deep sleep.


I dreamed about guns and livers and all manner of slayed zombies.

8:32pm, Saturday

It's black outside.

They say at least 3 millon people on the Texas Coast are without power.

I can't vouch for 3 million, but I can for the folks around here...it is pitch black...
cept for us...
we have a generator.

We also have houses that are still standing and minds and bodies a little tired, but blessed nonetheless.

I had Tony get this computer hooked up to the generator and so I sit here in this unearthly glow answering email and posting so that I can say thank you to all the folks that commented.

To be sure, I was really surprised.
Sage...thanks guy. You were kind to post about it.
I would like to think all the good wishes on and off blog were the stuff that gave us such a good outcome...in spite of the ragged lead gutted night.

I have lots of stories to tell and I will tomorrow...the generator needs rest..lol...

but one thing I will say now...
and that is that it occurred to me as I was working and doing all the things you do when you have kids and move through the day,
how lucky we are to be able to flip a switch,
run a bath, wash out a kids booboo,
eat a hot meal,
not worry about bad guys taking from us
and just know what time and day of the week it is
because your mind isn't ovvupied with just surviving something or the other ...

It's trite to say this sort of thing makes you think
because really saying that suggests maybe you don't enough.

I work a lot of mil support for Marines...and everytime someone in the neighborhood complained about the heat or having to do an ordinary thing in an extraordinary way I thought of those jarheads and what they do day in and day out.

I made some mental notes and again...I'll save them for tomorrow.

Goodnight.

It's so freaking hot.

Oven hot.

Even before a 1/2 mile warm up I can feel sweat pooling between my shoulder blades and breasts.

Other Crossfitters in the class ahead are finishing their last rounds.
I hate watching.
I love watching.
In an hour I'll be where they are.
Not on the mat
or with the same weight
or scuff marks.
just where they are
Worn to your very middle self.
Raw.
Singed.
Ticking.
High.

Then I think,
I bet if I sneak out right now no one would miss me--
'cept my other two personalities who would get into a fight in my head over just what kind of loser I am,
sorry
or
sorry assed.

I stay.

6 rounds and 300 reps
of weight slinging and ground pounding later
with only 5 of us sick SOBs
who pick late Friday afternoon to workout,
the head trainer turns his attention on me
and the weight I'm about to pick up.

It's 30 pounds I had either been squatting, sitting up or stepping up on a 28 inch box with.

After 6 rounds
30 pounds feels like 100 pounds
and the step up box has taken on Mt. Fuji-like proportions
and in fact, I was just thinking these very things
when the attention I keep bitching about not getting from anyone
settles on me in my most ass beaten state.

Figures.

Carlos, head Nazi--er trainer...head trainer nods at the 50 pounds sitting next to the 30 I had been using and says with a half smile and glint in his eye, "Hey, why don't you try using the 50, you're ready... it's only one more round." He grinned again and reached for the weight confident that I was in.

Crap.
I was.
Asshole.

Holy hell...who's walking away from that???
Not me.
I'm retarded.
and at the time without enough breath to do more than nod.

No.
Not retarded.
Hammered down like that to your most distilled--
it's like a clean drunk--
You say and do exactly what you are thinking...you are too exhausted for bullshit.

He had to keep me from falling off the box a few times. I think my quivering quads and the tendons standing out on my neck may have given me away.

Still...he was right, I was ready and I hadn't thought I was.

second from the left.

I started another blog--


for about a week.
Way too much lamentation though.


I am not even sure what the reasoning was, but it just seemed too hard to put up here or to even address at all..


These things... they have been hard for awhile.


but,


I think I am in some sort of remission now. I don't know if I stopped struggling or the struggle stopped in me.
*smallish shrug/smaller smile

I do know, if I don't take care of some fundamental issues things will just come back and bite me on the ass sooner or later and when I don't know again-- I get reminded and the reminders are starting to hurt the back of my head...where they slap me. Hard.

I'm a slow learner.


but then, I guess they do for all of us--
bite us I mean...


some things you see coming


and some you don't


or maybe sometimes you just don't want to see it coming when it is

or see it coming when it really isn't...



but--
It's been raining down on my head intermittently for as long as I can remember.


I liken it to being chased by a beast intent on eating you alive.


See beast.
Run.
Don't look back.
Just run like hell.
Feel the blood pumping,
the burn in your lungs
you just go
and pretty soon
the beast gets tired and
moves on to someone or something else


nothing in life, good or bad, is as focused on you as your own paranoia would have you believe--as focused as you can be on you.


only it doesn't matter if you know this or not
because


you are still running


just running


and running


and in the process


you grow pretty confident in your ability to outrun it


and you don't give a shit

if it's still behind you or not anymore.


it becomes immaterial in light of the fact that


now you feel safe in the knowledge


you are fine as long as you


are running.


it's stupid

and

flawed

and exquisitely safe.


or was--

was because it was a false sense of security,
feeling on top of things because one is moving.

I don't think that tactic is entriely without merit...a moving target is harder to get to, but no matter what that mindset still makes me a target. I make myself a target.

This summer...

exhaling

it was the worst one I ever had.

No point in getting into all the gory details, I was pretty through trying to figure out how to live and be a good mom/person/wife though.

I won't say it's all better, but I think it could be. If I keep my own mitts out of it so much. I tried to tell those around me I trusted just how bad it was getting but, I couldn't seem to get my voice to carry through this clear sound proof bubble I was hunkered down in. Really I was resentful no one who supposedly cared about me bothered to learn to read lips or take up sign language in their free time. WTF?!

And I wonder if tempting the current to carry me away in the middle of a moonlit night or not being able to tell the most important people in my life just how bad it was getting was a function of feeling Godless or untethered/forsaken...I don't know. I only know that I didn't do it, but I had never wanted out--just out as much as I did this summer.


There's a line in a Gary Paulsen book called Hatchet. The main character in the book, faces utter desolation when he watches his rescue plane flying away leaving him to fend for himself in the Canadian wilderness. After he deals with the absolute desire to no longer live-- he found, left in the indelible groove his own attempts at self destruction made in his being, this realization:

"He had to find new ways to be what he had become."


Find. new. ways.

I think I have--

while storming around like a bull in a china shop--

maybe found some new ways

or maybe been given some new ways is more accurate.

I don't pray for things to happenso much anymore. I pray for the clarity to see when they are happening because more likely they are happening all the time in perfection and only skewed when I get my mitts on them...

so things are maybe clearer, I think?

Working again.

Using my mind at a profession,

Using my body in a gym-- a hard place-- figuratively and literally. I never go there thinking I can really do it and I always come out wondering how the hell I did.

cherishing my friends...

Sarah, Lisa and Chris who always have my back without asking for a job description.

Jeanni, Marci and Lana--who know who I am, who I want to be and the parts of me I hate-- you all know.

Ken and Jolie-- You've been there and you keep reminding me it's all part of the process. Man! I'm glad you have senses of humor and short term memory problems so I can keep repeating myself.

To J'son--you don't lie. I don't always like what you have to say, but I always trust it.

To Mike. What can I say that wouldn't be redundant? Only don't let it all go to your head, boy, 'cause you are not only a brother, but also proof positive I am a masochist.

and finally Tony, my husband. You remain unwavering and dedicated and loving.

New ways...and old ways made new.