Thoughts Goals & Nonsense

Dog Momma Duties

2010-07-12T06:56:00.000-07:00

My biological clock is ticking so loudly that I can hardly hear myself think, so of course, I did what any 27 year old baby wanting human would do, and adopted two sweet sister puppies. They are smart and spoiled and trouble and bark and chew and dig and I ADORE them. They eat my cactus, shred my paper (see below), chase butterflies, pull each other's tails, sleep ON TOP of each other, and I wouldn't trade one single second. They may not have stopped the ticking clock, but they've quieted it a little, and they make their mommy smile.

Bunny Flowers

2010-04-18T09:17:00.000-07:00

Larkspur = Bunny Flowers

Look closely, see the bunny in the middle? My paternal grandmother, my Didi, had a whole garden full. She was amazing. An accomplished painter, gardener, and sweet sweet soul. When I was three, my Didi & Grandad gave me a huge pink stuffed bunny. I can remember them sitting it on the sofa, and all the adults watching to see my reaction. I was unsure if it was actually for me, and trying to make my three year old brain have the self restraint to not grab her and make a run for it. I spent weeks trying to come up with a name suitable for such a grand possession, only to finally realize there wasn't one. Her name would be "Bunny". That same year, my Daddy brought home a real bunny, she was white with pink eyes, and her name was Foo Foo. Foo Foo didn't last long, but my love for bunnies did, so when Didi took me by the hand one spring day, and showed me the bunny inside her funny purple flower, I was in awe.

Didi got sick, very sick, very fast, but Grandad would push her chair out into her garden so she could sit and instruct him on how to keep it. I would sidle up beside her so she could tell me which ones to pick for her bedside. She passed in the fall, too young and too soon. Grandad did his best to keep the house, and the garden exactly how she'd left it, but time turned the flowers to weeds, and the ivy took over mercilessly like a garden dictator. Twenty years later, every spring, I turn back into that seven year old, crouched over what was once my Didi's garden, waiting for the first sprouts of Larkspur. Spring still comes through all the dead of winter, and so do the bunny flowers.

This year, for the first time, I'll have bunny flowers of my own, planted in little vintage wooden planters that my Didi would have loved.

Faith vs. Insanity

2010-04-05T19:50:00.001-07:00

I've written on faith before, but I had a clarifying moment this morning while watering my garden. I'm not sure if I clarified faith, or insanity...most likely a little bit of both. I realized as I was watering my empty, brown dirt that gardening from seeds is the perfect exercise in faith (or insanity). Every day, twice a day, I drag the hose over, turn it on, and water empty planters, with the faith that one day Ill see tiny little green sprouts. Some days I have doubts, and fight the urge to dig down a little to see if anything is cooking, but most days I just water, hum a little, and expect that one day soon my patience, perseverance, and faith will pay off with a yield from my garden.

P.S. I also realize that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result....

Life Questions...

2010-03-27T20:52:00.000-07:00

*creeeak....blows dust off*

Goodness, it's been awhile. Thankfully, my schedule has finally given up the fight and let me win. I went from working basically all day, seven days a week, to now a normal work week. IT IS AWESOME! Im feeling more productive, *and* more creative, which makes for a happy, happy me.

I also have a few life questions I've been pondering. Maybe you can help me out here.

1. How is it possible for two puppies to make SO MUCH POOP?

2. How can gooey delicious lemon cupcakes be hard enough to cause blunt force trauma?

3. If I have so much time now, why did I have to wear damp panties to yoga this morning because there were not any clean *and* dry pairs?

4. How can I always manage to step on the *one* squeaky dog toy when I get up in the night to pee?

5. How on earth did I mistake trout for salmon? (and why the hell didnt I just take it back?)

6. How have I gone 27 years without "Douchecanoe" in my vocabulary?

I promise I have more important things to write/tell, but not tonight. Had to get back in the saddle somehow, right?

Kitchen Insecurities

2009-11-12T18:00:00.000-08:00

Well, Ive come to the conclusion that I should not be a housewife. (not that I ever REALLY thought I could be)

It's been a hard month food wise at my house. My dear friend Bonnie (see post below) is Martha-Freaking-Stewart, and I began to feel bad about my lack of domesticity. Soooooo I decided it was high time for me to put my oven mitts to use and start creating some wonderful meals. Unfortunately, my kitchen knowledge is scarce, AT BEST, so there are always lots of "Googles". For example "how to hard boil eggs", "how to tell when pasta is ready", etc.

Problem number one= My oven doesn't work.

While I HAVE mastered the art of Crescent Rolls on the grill, there are just some things you can't "cook out".

Problem number two = My Work Schedule

I work from 8am-5pm and 6pm-10pm daily, except for the weekends, which I only work 6pm-10pm. This doesn't leave much time for gourmet cooking....

Problems #1 & 2 lead me to one conclusion. A Crock Pot.

So off to the store I went for said Crock Pot, and some groceries to put in it. I decided to break in the Crock Pot with some good old fashioned Chicken Noodle soup. I mean HOW HARD CAN IT BE?! So I got what Google told me I needed, but had NO idea how to go about cooking and chopping a whole chicken, so I cheated and went with good ole Pilgrims Pride chicken breasts.

My thinking, "I can cook the cut up chicken breasts in some broth overnight, then add the veggies in the morning, and Ill have some kick ass chicken noodle soup by lunchtime!" What really happened, skip to about 3:13 am, "Oh holy hell, I cannot stand the smell of that chicken cooking for one more SECOND!!!" Even the dogs were nauseated. So up I got to put the chicken and the Crock Pot on the back porch for the remainder of the night, and smear some Vicks under my nose so I didn't vomit.

Needless to say, chicken noodle soup was the LAST THING IN THE WORLD I wanted the next day, so Mr. Chicken got a nice burial at sea down my toilet.

Lesson number one= Do your cookin during the day, preferably with open windows.

So two weeks go by, I have stopped cursing at the Crock Pot, and decide to give porkchops a try. The night before I set out the chops to thaw, and then the next morning put all my ingredients in the Crock Pot and got her going. There they were, ready and waiting for their Pork Chops to jump in, when I realized I had set out two giant steaks to thaw the night before....

Two Years and One Friend Later...

2009-09-18T19:01:00.000-07:00

Well, it only took me two and a half years here in El Paso to make a friend, that either says a lot about my work schedule, or my personality...

I started doing yoga for the first time at a studio fairly close to my house in April-ish, and quickly discovered it kept me from being as neurotic as usual, and kept going! It was the most "normal", and I use that word VERY loosely, social setting I had been in since moving from Weatherberry, and I had forgotten how much I needed that kind of outlet.

One day, after I'd been going a month or so, we did a "partner stretch", and since the "partners" needed to be roughly the same height (yeah, good luck with that in El Paso), I got paired with a girl on the complete other side of the room, named Bonnie. Now, I had seen Bonnie several times, and we had said "hi & bye" in class, but never had the chance to talk.

Turns out, Bonnie was a bit socially starved too! A high power accountant, and recent transport from MANHATTAN...yes, New York City, to El Paso, TX...talk about a culture shock! She also went from Mrs. Career woman, to Mrs. Stay At Home Mommy of 8 month old Jacob. Whoa! I just thought I wanted to slit my wrists with a butter knife....

So once we were introduced, in the form of trying to "gumbify" each other in partner stretch, our first conversation went sorta like this.

Bonnie: "Hi, my name's Bonnie"
Kristen: "Hi, my name's Kristen"
Both Together: "Wanna be my friend?" (not really, but basically)

So here we are, five months later, and causing lots of trouble. Our most recent adventure was "de-algaeing" Bonnie's pool (which I COMPLETELY got suckered into). See, Mrs. Bonnie has contacts, therefore, she wasnt about to don on the goggles and go down with the wire brush. I was good with that part, minus the fact that I kept floating up in the middle of my scrubbing. Bonnie, so lovingly placed her hoof in the middle of my back on the pool floor to "help" me stay down there (true confessions, but only because she will most likely read this, I DID ask her to push with her HAND to help me, but evidently, the foot worked better). Part two of the algae cleaning involved rubbing a chlorine tablet along the bottom of the pool floor to kill any remaining algae I didnt get with the brush. "The pool guy told me to be sure and NOT handle the chlorine, he said socks work good". So at some point, while holding my breath at the bottom of my friend's pool, wearing her gym socks on my hands, and rubbing poisonous chemicals on the plaster three inches from my face, I realized that we MUST be true friends. (of course, at this point, when it all became incredibly funny to me, I came up spouting and laughing uncontrollably, to point this out to my sweet friend Bonnie).

Good friends are hard to find, and I'm glad I found this one.
(even if she did try to drown me)

Stolen Moments

2009-04-01T17:00:00.000-07:00

We have flower pots outside the front door of both clinics. (Granted the Anthony one is CHAINED to the wall, but that's beside the point) They make everything look nicer, especially this time of year when the flowers are so bright and colorful. We change them out periodically, as they need it, to keep them looking fresh, but sometimes get a little "help" from our patients who like them just a little too much.

One day Amy was removing the deceased, or nearly dead flowers in order to make room for new ones, and a woman waiting in her car for someone in the pharmacy called out (in Spanish) "Hey! Why are you throwing out those flowers?" Amy says (Again in Spanish), "Oh Seniora, they're dead and we're getting new ones." The woman replied, "No, I take flowers from here all the time, and they do very well.."

Violet

2009-03-26T20:30:00.000-07:00

It's SPRING, finally! Edna (my Powerbook) has been sick for almost a month, thus my absence from Bloggerland, but is back home to her mother now and the world can begin spinning once more.

Violet is 13 months old, and she has a hard life ahead of her. She has 4 older brothers and sisters, her mom is 27, and she doesn't have a dad. Her mother's boyfriend has a long history of Seizure Disorder, and has the mental capacity of an 8 yr. old. He isn't allowed to be home alone with any of the children, not their rule, CPS's rule. Her older sister was tazed, along with their mother, by her first husband. He tazed them so that they would be still enough for him to run them over with his car. The four older children witnessed their grandmother bleed to death, and two years later, their grandfather's fatal heart attack in the bathtub. The second oldest girl has tried to kill her teacher (really), and attempts to strangle the youngest boy when he won't quit crying. After the death of their grandparents, the mother moved them all to California to live with her only remaining family. Their uncle beat them and they left everything they owned to take an 18 hour bus ride back home. Once they got back, they lived for two months on a friend's screened in porch until they could find a place to stay. The mom has since secured them a house through her church, and is attempting to put her life back together.

She isn't a bad mom, but she is so in over her head.

We first met Violet at two days old. In a world SO full of chaos, God made a miracle. She is the most perfect child. When she was four months old, I asked her mother if she would consider letting me adopt her. Her reply? "Are you kidding, she's the only beautiful thing I have."

X-Mas Highlight Reel

2009-01-02T18:31:00.000-08:00

What you need to know about my Holiday Season

~I traveled the world (ok not really, but most of Texas and Oklahoma)

~My bags traveled even more than I did (which is not a good thing). My clothes ended up in Birmingham, Alabama. I ended up in Amarillo, TX. Not Good.

~I have the best family. We all made Gingerbread Houses (ok, so we cheated and used Pop Tarts)

~I reconnected with a dear friend

~Saw "Doubt" with K.C. and David (Not a movie for the masses, but we REALLY liked it. Unreal acting)

~I attended the MOST FABULOUS K.C. Clifford Show at the UCO Jazz Lab. Ahhhh heaven

~I had sweet sweet time with all my best-est friends.

~ I painted in Steve's new studio (jealous)

~I ate my weight in Sushi

~I did a wee bit of shopping (blushes)

~I had one (or two) too many Vodka Tonics (with a bloody mary in there somewhere) and olives and came home with Snausages instead of toes.

~Came home to a nice dinner, and my OWN BED!!! YAY!

~Amy and I saw "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button". Incredible. If you havent seen it. GO!

It was so great to have time with my family and favorite friends, and so nice to have such a great home to come home to. I have so much to be thankful for.

Happy New Year!

T-Day

2008-12-03T15:29:00.001-08:00

Thanksgiving was great.

For the first time in 20 years, I had ONE AND ONLY ONE Thanksgiving dinner! Yippeeee!

(if you don't know why, check it out here)

I did get to hang out with my Granddad, who has GOT to be the COOLEST man to have that title EVER.

He has a brand new Mac with a 24" inch screen, and we couldnt resist being a bit goofy with the camera...

At 87 he still rides the stationary bike at the "Youth Center" 15 miles a day, and has a daily "Paper Route" which involves moving all the neighborhood little old ladies newspapers from their driveways to their porches.

I also had the pleasure of a session with one of the MOST talented photographers you can imagine (who just happens to be a lifelong friend) for some "Mommy(s) and Daughter" photographs. It was such a great time with my two mommies, and a special special day. They should be up here on Lissa's blog soon.

Momma Kay came back to El Paso with me for the week, and we are taking full advantage of the FAB shopping around town...(you can only imagine)

I am so thankful for all of the blessings in my life...my family, friends, home, partner, job, health, opportunities, and so much more...I try to be grateful EVERY day for all that I have, but it is especially apparent during this Holiday Season.

Happy Holidays~

Creepy Crawly Critter Update

2008-11-12T20:06:00.000-08:00

This is a sequel to Promises Promises, and Ding Ding Ding...We have a Winner. Haven't read them? Shame on you...go now, click above.

Well, did I tell you we caught the second Kangaroo Rat? This one was much smaller than the first (we're assuming this is the female) and quite a bit less aggressive. Still closely resembles a Disney mouse, and pretty darn cute.

Hopefully she found Mr. Roo Rat behind the Dairy Queen and they lived happily ever after.

Notice those LEGS. No wonder she could move dog shit from shelf to shelf in a single bound.

In other news, it was a sad day for Geckos nationwide (especially this one). The stow-away gecko from Key West that vanished behind my vanity mirror was found dead this week on the bathroom floor. Crusty and with empty eye sockets, it was not a pretty site. Obviously I was correct in my statement that Geckos don't (and can't) live in the desert.

Not me...

2008-11-05T08:16:00.000-08:00

This post started as a comment to thewishfulwriter 's post "Forward Backward", but I realized it needed to be more than a comment, a statement. She was commenting on America's giant step forward for African Americans that was simultaneous with the giant step back for the gay and lesbian community. Prop 8 passing in California.

It breaks my heart, both ways. Breaks my heart for the millions of african american children whose parents can now say with certainty that they CAN be anything they can dream of. For our older americans who can finally gain some healing for the sins of of our country's past. And for all of the people that have heard no all their lives to finally be able to stand up and say "Yes We Can!"

But for those of us, gay or straight, who wish that our children could grow up in a more tolerant and open-minded society, it is a soul crushing defeat. Amy says that in all actuality, GLT rights have not really changed in her lifetime. That the majority of Americans, if they got the chance, would still throw a beer bottle at our heads if they thought no one was looking. It is strange to me that America can progress so far as to elect an African American man as the most powerful leader in the world, but be scared shitless of two people who love each other and want to be recognized as a family.

Let me be clear, for me it isnt about "the wedding" or the piece of paper. I know to some, that is of monumental importance, and I understand that. For me, it is about being able to have a family, to have insurance, to have a house if something happened to my partner, to have her at my bedside if I am ill and in the hospital, to be able to leave our legacy to our children. Tell me please how those wishes make anyone else's marriage less sacred. I'll tell you what is threatening to the sanctity of marriage. Divorce, abuse, adultery, disrespect. Not me.

Today I'll be disappointed, and tomorrow, again, I'll have hope that with a new administration, and a new direction, this country will be able to do right by all it's citizens.

A Vote Cast (and a tiny little fickle one)

2008-11-04T17:49:00.000-08:00

I couldn't wait to vote this morning. Double checked my polling place last night, and was up EXTRA early to try and beat the crowds. At 6:50 I was at our local Fire Department ready to cast my ballot. Waited just a few minutes in line, but when I got to the table the lady said "oh, we have had a lot of confusion over this, this isn't your polling spot, you need to go to the middle school."

Okay....so off I go to the middle school (i'm not super familiar with which schools are which here, but I asked around and ended up at the middle school. To which I was greeted with "oh well this has caused a lot of confusion, not this middle school the OTHER middle school".

Alrighty then strike two.

So off to the old middle school, yes sir-y bob. Finally the right spot. There was ONE person there besides me. I have a few theories as to why this was, but Im going to keep those to myself.

I was determined not to vote a straight ticket, but to go through every single contest and pick the right person for the job. When it was all said and done, I voted Democrat all but one.

I'm ashamed to say that the one Republican I voted for was a very fickle decision.

We have these CRAZY neighbors. They are just absurd, really. Anyway, they have had a HUGE banner of their pick for County Commissioner on their fence since JANUARY!!!! Not only is it the first thing I see every morning, the lady in the picture is wearing a giant cowboy hat. A COWBOY HAT!

So it just so happened that that was the last contest to vote for and I thought to myself, "I have looked at that woman's ugly mug for the last 11 months, and at this point I just want that face to go away."

She is a democrat...and her box was the only democratic box that didn't get checked. Shame on me I know, but I just couldn't do it.

Three Toed Feet, and Bunny Eating Pumpkins

2008-10-31T19:08:00.000-07:00

Halloween day...took a little convincing to get Amy to go along, but she ended up being a really good sport. We waited until the last minute (of course) and things were a little picked over by the time Ruby and I headed out Wednesday night to find costumes.

There are four of us. Myself, Amy, and our staff, Eva and Ruby. Eva is about 5'10'' and an average size, Im 6', Amy is 5'2'', and little Ruby, well she is 22 years old, and 4'8''.

We wanted costumes that all four of us could be, a "theme", so we started at our local spirit store. We thought about all four ninja turtles, but Ruby could only fit in the kids version, which wasn't near as cute as the adults....so we vetoed that idea.

When we moved on to the next store we found the PERFECT costumes. The Flintstones! Fred for Amy, Wilma for me, Betty for Eva, and PEBBLES for Ruby!!!!! We even found a plastic bone to tie in her pink wig! It was perfect, EXCEPT that they were out of "Wilmas".

So we had to make due and use a "Marilyn Monroe" white dress (that I shredded the bottom of) and two wigs. The first wig with the right bangs was an "Ariel" wig, but it was for kids, so it didnt cover all of my real hair. By the time it was all over, I had clipped the horns off an adult wig, and sewed the Ariel one on top of it. Follow that with some white spray painted wooden cabinet door handles, and Poof, Wilma Flintstone.

All of the patients loved our costumes, and it was a really great day.

The bunnies were not NEAR as cooperative as I had hoped, but Miss Scarlett finally got too dang hot and just laid down.

The poor baby had a pumpkin eating her head....how unfortunate. She was not liking our little holiday
tradition.

Don't you already feel sorry for my future children?

Family Tumbleweed

2008-10-30T10:33:00.000-07:00

Every time I start to tell Amy a story, it takes five times longer than it should. Why? Because every time I begin with "my ____ family member" we then have to go through who exactly that ___ person is, and how they are indeed related to me.

I was commenting yesterday that it really couldn't even be classified as a family tree anymore, it was more like a family shrub, or bush, a hedge even, and Amy so perfectly said "dear, you have a family tumbleweed".

Let me explain:

I am adopted, and am lucky enough to have a great relationship with both my adoptive parents (Dave and Kay) and my biological parents (Tom & Teresa). I found Tom and Teresa about 6 years ago, and it couldn't be any more perfect. All of my parents get along with each other, and conspire against me on a regular basis.

Here's where it starts getting a little tricky. None of my parents stayed together. Dave and Kay divorced when I was five. Dad re-married a few times since then, creating a veritable maze of step-mothers and siblings, and is now with a great little lady named Peggy. Since they haven't yet married, I classify Peggy's as my "Not quite Step Mother". She has two sons, which are my "Not Quite Step-Brothers".

Mom (Kay) remarried Kerry. Who has two kids, Megan(girl) and Dallas (boy) (but Megan isn't technically Kerry's). So that's a pretty easy one.

Now, Tom and Teresa didn't stay together either. Teresa is married to Lynn. Who has three kids from his previous marriage. Jamie (girl), Randy(girl) and Cody(boy) my step siblings on that side. Teresa never had any more children, so I'm it...which works out really well.

Tom married Deborah and had my three half-siblings, Anabelle(girl), Sidney (boy), and Sadie (girl). They are my only blood siblings (and the very last family I found). Our mothers couldn't be more opposite, so we don't look a thing alike, but we have some very similar aspects in our personalities.

So I have four sets of parents. Eight sets of grandparents. All of my parents have siblings which makes for an array of Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, Step- grandparents, Step Aunts, Step Uncles, and Step Cousins.

And then there are the Ex-Step Monsters...errr Mothers (and their Ex-Step Families). "Ex-Step Sister-In-Law" was always one of my favorites.

The primary problem is that Amy's parents and siblings are all still married to their original partners, and she quite doesn't understand the difference between "Step" and "Half", and the other difficulty is that it doesn't all fit on one dinner napkin. (we've tried on several occasions to pass the time this way at restaurants.)

I had a pretty good map of it, at one point when I was trying to help my poor therapist, but I'm due for an updated version. I'm sure Ill have to have a clear one with pictures one for my children to be able to make heads or tails of it all.

To Amy's credit, she tries really hard. It throws her that a lot of them have names that could be male or female (ex. Kerry, Lynn, Randy), but for the most part, she can at least keep all of the parents straight.

Luckily we won't have to worry about wedding photographs...(your welcome Mom('s). )

Speaking of "two mommies", talk about needing clarification! HA!

P.S. Look for a "Genetics" post in the near future...I am really quite the little science experiment when it comes to the nature vs. nurture debate.

Holding Hands with Hillary

2008-10-26T15:20:00.000-07:00

That's right, THE Hillary.

I wasn't always a Hillary fan, in fact, I didn't know that all Democrats weren't Satan's warriors until my sophomore year in college.

When the Presidential Primaries began, and there was talk of Hillary throwing her pantsuit into the race, I was thrilled. Finally a woman with the chops to be President, and a real chance to make that dream a reality.

So imagine my incredible disappointment when she fell a perfectly highlighted hair short of the nomination. I will vote Obama, but only if they don't leave me enough room on the ballot to write in Hillary Rodham Clinton.

Hillary made a trip to our Sun City during the Primary season, and Amy and I went to the Don Haskins Arena to see her with 20,000 of our closest friends. Needless to say we didn't even get close enough to see the color of her pantsuit without binoculars.

Last week, we got word that Hillary would be coming RIGHT HERE to our tiny town to stump for Obama. She would be speaking just down the street on Saturday afternoon.

Sleep was elusive Friday night, all I could think about was getting up, putting on my "Bitch is the New Black" shirt, grabbing my "Hillary is My Homegirl" sticker, and getting my spot at the speech.

Saturday morning that's exactly what we did (but Amy would NOT let me wear my "Bitch is the New Black" shirt) and when we got to the park, we were pleased with our spot. Not right in front of her, but pretty damn close. So we waited, about 2 hours (she was an hour late), but when she took the stage, it was electrifying.

After her speech, most everyone but the ones right up front began to leave and find their cars, but Amy and I decided to hang around and see how close we could get to Ms. Clinton.

At first I was (frustratingly) about 4 people back, just far enough away from the front line that I couldnt get her...........attention ; )

However, as I further surveyed the situation, I realized that if I hopped a strategically placed bleacher, I could tuck myself in the last little corner of the handshake line.

I slid into position just before she she got to that point, and immediately shoved my "Hillary is My Homegirl" sticker over the lady in front of me, and right into Hillary's line of vision. When she saw the sticker, I reached out with my other hand, and she shook it and said "Oh I LOVE that!". I screamed "I know, do you want it?", she hesitated, and finally said, "No, you keep it" to which I replied (all of this taking place over the two short people in front of me) "No, I have two", and as she grabbed it from my hand she said "then YES I want it!".

At this point she realized I still had a death grip on her hand and removed it from my grasp (with a little help from the secret service) and was rushed into her green SUV (WITH MY STICKER!!!!)

It was definitely a moment I will never forget, a highlight for sure. I would have loved to have had a picture with her, and my sticker, but I am tickled pink that I got to have a mini conversation with her and that she took my sticker. She looks great for all she's been through, and she is a woman who deserves so much respect.

Feather's Challenge

2008-10-20T19:12:00.000-07:00

Im pretending to be "tagged" by wishfulwriter and attempting the "7 random facts about yourself" post.

1. I have a really hard time saying "Well, I guess I better go" and it usually comes out "Well, I bess I getter go". Must be some weird nervous thing...or a mini-stroke..hmmm

2. Speaking of mini-strokes. I whistle completely out of the side of my mouth, like (yes, you guessed it) I have had a mini-stroke.

3. Speaking of mini-strokes (again) my mother whistles the exact same way.

4. I have a new tattoo of Sarah Palin winking, on my ass.

5. I have an obscene obsession with the skin on my elbows, and earlobes. I can't leave it alone. If you see me, you can pretty much bet I will have my hand on my ear or my elbow, especially if Im nervous...or bored...or happy...or sad....ok pretty much always. Might as well be sucking my thumb.

6. Speaking of sucking my thumb, I did it till I was 7. My parents tried everything from a retainer with a spike, painting my big o digit with that sour apple crap, everything. Know what finally worked? A nickel... for every half our I kept my thumb outta my trap. I wasn't stupid.

7. My all time favorite TV show is the old Get Smart. When I was a kid we didn't play tag, or hide and seek, we played Get Smart, theme music and all. I was ALWAYS 99 hello, first crush = Barbara Feldon.

There....I'm officially tagging MixtapeJones, I'll be waiting Mister.

Literally Litterer

2008-10-11T19:25:00.000-07:00

We encounter so many pleasant people every day at work, that it is so uncomfortable when we come across a rude one. Well let me tell you that is EXACTLY what I had the unpleasant experience of encountering today.

We were sitting at the counter working on billing, and the windows in front of us face the patio and the parking lot outside. The windows have a mirror tint so we can see out, but you cant see in from the outside. There is a pharmacy next to the clinic that is open on Saturdays so there was a fair amount of traffic this morning.

An older hispanic woman got out of an SUV and headed into the pharmacy. As she came out, she had a paper towel in her hand, and we watched as she threw it down literally (no pun intended) three steps from our HUGE trash barrel. I could not believe my eyes! What an example for the three kids in the car.

So as they were backing out of their parking spot I marched out right in front of them, picked up her litter, and placed it (a little harshly) in the trash can.

Want to guess what the grandma and family did? Did they apologize? Did they hang their heads in shame? Hell no, they started CLAPPING. That's right clapping, and laughing, out loud with the window down.

Karma dude....Karma.

I learned early how to be good at Therapy...

2008-10-08T14:03:00.000-07:00

Four years old and at the movies with my Daddy. Days don't get any better than that. It was the brand new, uber advertised, Disney movie of the year. 101 Dalmations, opening day, and I was so excited I could hardly keep from throwing down my Rainbow Brite doll and sprinting in the theater.

One teeny tiny problem.

Cruella DeVille was FREAKIN scary. Not just creepy, or spooky. I was terrified to the point that we had to leave half way through the movie. I could NOT stop crying and thinking about those poor little puppies (and that hair).

Problem number two.

Months afterward I was still appearing next to my Daddy's side of the bed in the middle of the night saying "Daddy......can we talk about Cruella?"

A Birthday Wish

2008-10-07T18:47:00.000-07:00

Ms. Martinez (name changed) had a birthday yesterday.

I met Ms. Martinez for the first time about a year and a half ago. She was 88 lbs, and so dehydrated we couldn't find a vein to stick. All of her hair was gone, and she had an old floral scarf wrapped around her little head. Her eyes were completely sunk in, and she could barely stand to greet us when we walked in the room. (No matter WHAT we said, and how hard we tried, she ALWAYS stood to greet us when we came in). The most disturbing thing about Ms. Martinez was her color. Let me tell you, we see lots of "colors" on a daily basis, but Grey is not one of them. Her little body was so poisoned by cancer, and the chemo, that she was literally grey.

We immediately fell in love with this little lady. No matter how sick, how nauseated, how frail and tired she was, she was always the picture of kindness, and there was always a sweet sparkle in those sick eyes. She spoke Spanish only, and mine wasn't that swift at that point as I hadn't been in El Paso very long, but she made me feel like I came straight from Mexico City. She would sit patiently while I found the right (or close to right, or flat out wrong) word, and then speak extra slowly so I could have a shot (be it a long shot) at understanding.

Last week I came across her chart while up to my nose in paperwork, and just happened to notice that her birthday was October 6. That evening, at the grocery store, I ventured into the Spanish language card section. It was at this point that I realized that I know absolutely NO proper Spanish. It became very apparent to me that this was not going to be as easy as I thought, so I started with the pictures and narrowed it down to, oh, about twenty. I moved on to words I knew like "esposo, esposa, hermano, hermana, hija, hijo", "husband, wife, brother, sister, daughter, son, etc.... And then there were four. So I picked the two "prettiest" ones and decided to have one of the girls at the clinic "censor" it in the morning and translate so I could pick one.

Turns out they were both sweet and appropriate (pure luck) and we chose the one that said something like "If the sun is bright, the breeze is pleasant, and your day is perfect then my wish for you on your Birthday has come true" (definite paraphrase) and then had a little verse from Proverbs at the bottom. It was SO SUPER cute, we all signed it, and I made lots of little hearts on the envelope.

We pulled up to Ms. Martinez little apartment, and it could not have been a more beautiful day for her. After we opened the gate (and avoided the neighbor's dog) she spotted us and was headed down the front steps to greet us. I have to say that she smile on her face when she saw the card was one of the most rewarding sights I can remember. She was THRILLED! She was full of hugs and kisses and " Gracias' " and was so surprised to see us.

She took us on a tour of her three room apartment. Not three bedroom, three room. Her living/bedroom, kitchen, and bathroom, all full of knick-knacks, pictures, rosaries, crosses, and knitting. She was so proud to show us her sweet little "casita".

It will be forever a sweet memory in my mind and heart. You see it was an extra special birthday for Ms. Martinez. For the first time in four years her cancer is in remission. She is 113 lbs, has her beautiful little head of hair back, her natural tan color, and those bright eyes that never gave up.

Compassion...(and an important lesson) #1

2008-10-03T16:48:00.000-07:00

Forward: This post is disturbing, slightly graphic, and does not pass the breakfast test, just a warning.

Im going to call her Mary. I had never met her, which at this point, is odd in itself. I've met almost all of our patients at the clinics, and can usually tell you their first and last names, which pharmacy they use, and if its time for them to come in for their lab work. So that day I was back in the office paying bills, and didn't see Mary come in.

I was called to the very last exam room, Amy wanted me to meet a patient. I walked in to see Mary, a 50 something very normal looking woman in a long-sleeved corral colored shirt and grey shorts. I immediately noticed that she had both of her legs bandaged from the ankles to the knees. We see ALL KINDS of things in the clinics, so I wasn't surprised to see Amy kneeling down next to her with gloves on.

What I did NOT expect, was what I would see when she removed the bandages. Mary's legs were rotting. They were swollen with dozens of large(about the size of limes) deep, open wounds. The kind of wound where you can see the meat. They were full of puss, some bleeding, and all the skin that wasn't eaten away was completely black. Not purple, grey, or red... black.

My first thought was that she would most certainly loose her legs, and I was prepared to immediately leave the room and begin preparing the paper work to admit her to the hospital. At this point, I hadn't really heard anything yet. The sight was so overwhelming, I hadn't bothered to use any of my other senses up to that point. The first thing I recall hearing was "So it was just a bad batch? Yes, whatever they used to cut the heroin was bad."

You see Mary has a heroin habit. Has for the last 22 years. I found this out when she looked at me quite frankly and said, "Well you're getting quite the education aren't you? See what 22 years of heroin will do? If you think this is bad, you should see my ass." She has a $50 dollar a day habit, no health insurance, a steady job, a large circle of friends, and grown children. Her ex-husband got her started after a bad back injury to "help her relax". She was hooked after the first injection. She knew how to clean and dress her own wounds, which antibiotics to get in Mexico, when to start them, and obviously, when it was bad enough she needed to come in to see Amy.

Evidently, when you have a heroin addiction for that long, eventually you run out of good juicy veins, so it is necessary to do a method called "skin popping". It involves injecting the drug just under the skin in an attempt to hit one of the millions of capillaries that lie just beneath the surface. Whatever the drug makers used to "cut" the herion and make it go farther was toxic, and everywhere she injected she got a massive, skin eating infection. She was rather calm about this fact, I guess she realized that this was just the risk of it all.

So Amy changed the antibiotic, gave her some new supplies, and told her to follow up in a few days. I love that our clinics are so non-judgmental, and our patients can come in, be honest about their problems, and get kind and appropriate treatment.

Mary was absolutely pleasant, intelligent, and quite frank, all of which I appreciated. In fact, I liked her very much, and I hope she gets to keep her legs awhile longer...

Biased...

2008-09-29T20:03:00.000-07:00

Well this is a self indulgent post if ever there was one, but I have to introduce you to the newest member of the family (the one that was almost a snake snack...) Miss Ruby Red.

I know, I know could she be any stinkin cuter?!

So they're a little mismatched right now, but I have a feeling she will grow into it! (If I can keep Miss Scarlett from sitting on her between now and then we'll be in good shape)

Ok I'm done now....thanks for your patience!

Ding Ding Ding...We Have A Winner!

2008-09-28T18:03:00.000-07:00

Ok, yes WE GOT HIM!

Fortunately for him, (and us) we did opt for the "Catch & Release" turns out he is the cutest thing you've ever seen (as far as rodents go). The Rat/Squirrel is actually this weird large mousy thing. So the peanut butter worked and there he was yesterday morning not at all happy about being in our trap.

Here's what the little booger looked like post-trapping, and on his way to his "Release Site"

My camera was dead (gasp) or I would have a much better picture, and Im ashamed...

So we took him down the road to the Howdy's / Dairy Queen (Im sure they appreciated their new addition) to let him go. There is nothing but desert behind it, and we figured he would have plenty to eat (but his cholesterol will most likely suffer).

We sneakily crept down the arroyo and I hit the button to open the doors. Ok, here's what we didn't expect. He took two steps out of the trap and then JUMPED literally 10 feet. He hit the ground and lept again, another ten feet. Three more jumps and he was out of site. Amy and I sat there and stared in complete AWE. After a few seconds, I said something like "he jumped just like a Kangaroo"... that was about the time that lightbulb went on, an Aha! moment. In unison "KANGAROO RAT!!!!" This is what my Google search revealed. Sure enough we had ourselves a GIANT Kangaroo Rat. We set the trap again, so hopefully I can have better pictures AND a release video next time.

Promises Promises..

2008-09-25T19:28:00.001-07:00

Mmmkay, so I promise I will stay on my intended topic...after tonight.

I HAVE to get a few funny things down that happened the last few days you know, for the record.

First of all, we went to Key West for labor day. It was FABULOUS, we split the hurricanes down the middle so it was calm and peaceful, the weather was perfect, and it wasn't too crowded. I am normally pretty "with it" when it comes to packing and unpacking (as Ive been doing it my whole life with parents in different states) but for some reason, even though I had only taken a tiny little suitcase, it was still sitting in my floor completely full(albeit tucked in the corner almost out of sight) until this week. I FINALLY unpacked and filed everything away where it went on Monday. So Monday night (really Tuesday morning) I get up in the night to nature's call (which I NEVER used to do). I'm sitting there in the dark with just the glow from the little nightlight, and I notice a "shadow" on the wall. Now you must realize that I live literally in the desert, and there are all sorts of creepy crawly things that I murder on a daily basis (see "Unwelcome Visitor" below). So I immediately assume the worst. Im sure it is a Nina de Tierra or a scorpion or something gross along those lines. I tepidly turned on the light, not really wanting to find out what it was, and lo and behold a GECKO. Now remember folks, desert. Lizards = yes, Snakes = yes but GECKOS?!!! = NEVER. He was bright orange, had those little suction cup feet, and was about an inch long.

All we can come up with is that he must have stowed away in my suitcase from Key West, and been chowing on dead bugs and mosquitos for the last month...who the heck knows, but how weird is that? Needless to say that my screaming for Amy to come see scared him behind the mirror and I haven't seen him since.

Number Two

Amy has had a "huge rat" in her shed for years. He was the stuff legends were made of. He made intricate dog poop houses, moved huge-o rocks from the front yard into the shed, built ramps with paint stirrers, just an all around super rat. Well lately he has been hoarding the bunnies food. Like A LOT of it, and they are hungry dangit. He was also making a rather large mess in the shed, so we decided it was time for his reign to come to an end. Rat trap time. So in all these years, Amy (nor I ) had never actually seen Mr. Rat-King, but surely saw the mess he left behind. It just so happened on the day we went to set the big-ole trap, when we opened the door there he was. Only problem...he wasn't a rat. He was a big ass squirrel. Turns out squirrels are smarter than rats, still haven't caught him, and Miss Scarlett and Ruby are still hungry.

And for number three....

Kokkie likes to go under the clinic and hunt. Kokkie = 9 year old Samoyed. He came out last night with something's dead foot hanging out of his mouth. It evidently had been dead for quite sometime as it was super CRUNCHY, and it took him a long time to get it all down. Needless to say he slept outside last night...

Curious Compassion

2008-09-23T18:37:00.000-07:00

Its funny, I always thought I knew compassion, but I can look back now and know I didn't. I was so busy trying to make way my through my own jungle, I couldn't see the pain around me(yes I resisted the "forrest for the trees cliche). Then an amazing thing happened, I woke up one day and realized I was happy...ridiculously, unequivocally, irreversibly (I hope) happy.

Suddenly I had nothing worry about, nothing to fret over, nothing to be absolutely consumed with except the fact that I was happy. (Not that being happy isn't hard and sometimes scary when your aren't used to it.) But I digress (get used to it)

It was like a blindfold was dropped from my eyes. Now I can see...

Granted, I am in an environment that is much less privileged now, and there is so much need all around me, but I feel like I have much more appreciation for the struggles of others. I literally lay in bed at night scrolling through the people I come in contact with on a daily basis, and try to think what I can do to impact their lives in a positive way.

So I want to spend the next few posts and try to paint a picture of what I see. Some of it will be sweet, some incredibly sad, (a few gross things I can think of) but mostly, how blessed I am to have the people in my life that I do.

Picture it...

2008-09-20T19:56:00.000-07:00

I love the Golden Girls, and Sophia's stories. So in her honor, I'll start mine like this...

Picture it. Today, 4:45 pm. Amy and I driving in our little ole green Landrover "Willow", with our "Life Is Good" spare tire cover happy as two little larks. Me in sweatpants, flipflops, and a sports bra (I had spilled some Sugarfree Redbull all down my tank top, and since we were going "straight home" had taken it off, and Amy in scrub pants and a t-shirt.

We were literally 5 blocks from home, just down the street, and "Willow" as we affectionately call her, got a little tired...really tired in fact. Ok fine, she quit. Just like that.

So once again, Picture It...me in sweatpants, flip-flops and a sports bra, hair ALL over the place PUSHING "Willow" by the "Life is Good" spare tire cover, down our entire street past ALL our neighbors to our house....with Amy steering and "cheering" me on...

Thanks honey~

Unwelcome Visitor

2008-09-18T19:23:00.000-07:00

My little-est bun bun Poe (As in Edgar Allen) finally escaped last weekend. He has always been rather determined, and a "digger" so the day finally came on Saturday. He was wooed by some "real" desert floozy bunny and is now (hopefully) frolicking out there with his new chick. Miss Scarlett (the one he left behind) has been so depressed and will hardly come out of her house.

So last night Amy took me to get a new bunny friend for Miss Scarlett. She is a baby, and small, but not a dwarf like Poe was, completely white with red eyes. I named her Ruby Red...

Evidently I was a bit over-optimistic about how fast Scarlett would take to little Ruby. I gave them a little "sniff and smell" time last night, and then let the baby sleep in the bathtub. This morning I let them play some more outside in the big bunny pen. Playtime ended when Scarlett bit off a little piece of her nose. Like the fact that she is 14 lbs bigger wasnt enough to "prove" her dominance. Anyway, so my solution was to put the baby in a smaller cage inside Scarlett's area so they could still smell and check each other out, without Scarlett being able to mount the little one. I came over to check on them this afternoon, and as I made the corner into the kennel I saw a HUGE ASS FREAKING SNAKE slithering his way in. He was already half way in and I was completely panicked. All I could think to do was to run back into the street and scream for Amy, so that's what I did....and boy did she come-a-running. Picture it...screaming...top of my little lungs..."Amy come quick, there's a snake in with the bunnies and it's big as me!!!" Anyway, I got the shovel and met her at the kennel. By that time the snake was completely inside, but off to one side trying to charm the bunnies. Amy distracted him (with a broom no less) while I scooped up Scarlett and Ruby and got them the heck outta there. Multiple large rocks, shovels, sledge hammers and a pick ax later(seriously), it was finally ALMOST dead, but still opening its mouth anytime we got close. So we left it pinned under several LARGE rocks and left it's big-o snake head conveniently between the wall and the sledge hammer, put the bun bun's in the house and headed back to work. 3 hours later it was finally dead enough to bag up (talk about double bagging) and throw in the dumpster.

Needless to say by the time I was finished hysterically hacking at the damn thing I was bawling and Amy had to take over from there. It was literally as long as me (we're talking 6 feet here) and a good 2.5 to 3 inches in diameter. Scary scary shit. However, Amy saved the day and we got it all cleaned up...Scarlett is back outside, and the baby is back in the bathtub.

NEXT DAY UPDATE:
I am so completely and totally sore I can hardly life my arms...I look a little like John McCain....

The Hallelujahs

2007-09-23T18:51:00.000-07:00

We live in a very small town, close to a very big town. To say that it is predominantly Hispanic is the understatement of the universe. So everyone pretty much knows everyone else, and so on. Down the street a little ways is one whole block of Morales. Mr. & Mrs. Morales bought the lot years ago, and now their four boys all live on it. It is like a Hispanic version of “keeping up with the joneses”. When one brother builds a gazebo, all the others have to have one. The only problem is they haven’t really kept up with the property and it has become quite the eyesore.

But here is the real story.

Across the street from the Morales brothers is a small church. And when I say small, I mean TINY. Literally no more than 1,000 square feet. So on Wednesday night, and Sunday morning and night, the “Hallelujahs”, as they have come to be known in town, have their little church service. Evidently the Morales do not share the same religious views as the Hallelujahs, and the sound of their hymns echoing across the street three times a week is somewhat enraging. So after taking the Hallelujahs to court fruitlessly several times over the last few years, they have found their own way to combat the “glorious noise”. Although I had heard of the “war” I had never witnessed it until tonight. I was headed to pick up some grub from the Mexican food diner down the street, and I had my windows down, as it was such a lovely night. From the Hallelujah side, I heard some vaguely familiar church tune, and from the Morales side (as I politely waved to three of the four outside under their gazebo, drinking beer) I heard blasting from an old school boom box propped up by a brick on the gate, good ole rock’n’roll. Every time the Hallelujahs are there, so are the Morales, and their boom box, and Metallica, or whomever happens to be on BOB FM at the time…

Bra

2007-09-23T18:24:00.000-07:00

Brassieres

Where I grew up, if you had even the semblance of breast tissue, you wore a bra. Only completely white trash girls didn’t wear a bra…period. Now, there were some exceptions, backless evening gowns, tanks with built in bras etc, but there still could not be any signs of movement…or nipple action. I slept in a sports bra for most of my life just in case I had to get up and be seen (fire, tornado, late night visitor) in the middle of the night.

The only place you really saw “bra-less wonders” were in…oohh… maybe the 7-11 on a Saturday morning….you know the ones with orange hair and black roots, flannel pants, and a t-shirt. Flopping about as they got their morning cigarette fix.

So to get to my point…

I have now come across a circle of friends who view “bra-less-ness” differently than I do. They believe that if you have, and I quote “perky” breasts, you should show em off…GO BRA-LESS. I would have NEVER been seen in public in a t-shirt or tank top with no bra, but because of peer pressure, I have to admit, I have run into a few take out food places lately obviously bra-less.

THEN, the other day, I was watching a Whoopi Goldberg interview, and just happened to catch her saying that she NEVER wears a bra. She tried her first few days on the view, but just couldn’t do it. THE WOMAN IS ON NATIONAL TELEVISION AND DOESN’T WEAR A BRA. To her credit, I have never noticed, so I guess that is a good thing. Anyway…I was just wondering, am I way off on this?

"Chupacabra"

2007-09-19T18:07:00.003-07:00

Ok...first I have to explain that we don't live "in-town" but we don't really live "out-of town". There are no restrictions (of any kind really) no building restrictions, no animal restrictions....nada. It isnt the best part of town, come to think of it though, there is no "good" part of our little zipcode. Luckily, Amy set the house up really well when she bought it and we have nice BIG iron gates.

Ok so now to the "rest of the story" (thank you Paul Harvey)

So all of this to say that our neighbors across the street have quite the brood. They have at least 5 dogs, which even though they see us come and go 4 times a day STILL insist on running to the gate and barking up a storm everytime we come and go (something inside me just wants to run up and bark right back some days), 7 chickens, 2 roosters (which seem to be on some sort of indonesian time, as they NEVER actually crow in the morning) and geese. LOTS OF GEESE. About a month ago, Amy and I were out of town for the weekend, and when we got back, our neighbor Bill was outside. Amy stopped to say hi, and came back with quite a story. Evidently on that friday night, something climbed their fence (6 foot chain link) and ATE, not just killed, ATE 15 of their geese. Their "guard dogs" (or guard roosters for that matter) never made a peep, and their weren't a lot of footprints .One poor little goosling survived, but wouldnt have made it long, so Bill finished it off and buried the only body he had. The carnage was evidently quite impressive, and neighbor Bill decided he would hang out on the patio with his shotgun the next night. Fast forward to Saturday morning...the rest of the geese gone, AND the one he had buried..not pretty (Bill went in for a sandwich and fell asleep about 1:30). In a fit of probably not so wise judgement, the next week, our neighbors got 30 more geese... and the next weekend, same story. After the first 10 went Friday night, Bill decided he would put some ibuprofen in hamburger meet and hang it from the tree to "poison the bastard". Amy, with her vast amounts of medical knowledge (really), informed me that while ibuprofen would give him a "wicked stomach ache", and probably make what ever it was "shit like a goose" (I was quick to point out that she meant "shit geese") but that it wouldnt kill it. Sure enough, after that weekend,l 30 more geese gone...the only thing left was one big 'ole goose foot, in front of our mailbox. Oh boy...

So here's my question....what in the world can climb a 6 foot fence, without a sound, and kill and EAT 60 geese in two weeks?

Ever heard the Chupacabra tales? http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chupacabra

P.S. In case you are wondering....yes, they have more geese....

Why I love this woman...

2007-09-11T21:54:00.000-07:00

I began my romance with Edna St. Vincent Millay through an actual romance with a brilliant poet in her own rite..(who shall remain nameless)...the first time I saw her sit on the patio with a glass of wine in her hand and perfectly recite Renascence I was mesmerized. Both by the poet before me, and the poet before her, who had birthed those words. From then on, it went from a love to an obsession....as is the normal transition of these things for me. The more I read, the more my heart ached....the more I connected with her words, the more i felt they were my own. I spent hours reading, memorizing and applying her verse, until it became "useful" in my daily life. I have yet to find a time in my world that is not perfectly and completely conveyed in just one line from Edna St. Vincent Millay's pen.

Here are some of my current favorites~

FIRST FIG

My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah my foes, and oh, my friends--,
It gives a lovely light!

PASSER MORTUUS EST

Death devours all lovely things:
Lesbia with her sparrow
Shares the darkness, --presently
Every bed is narrow.

Unremembered as old rain
Dries the sheer libation;
And the little petulant hand
Is an annotation.

After all, my earstwhile dear,
My no longer cherished,
Need we say it was not love,
Just because it perished?

THE TRUE ENCOUNTER

"Wolf!" cried my cunning heart
At every sheep it spied,
And roused the countryside.

"Wolf!" "Wolf!" ---and up would start
Good neighbors, bringing spade,
and pitchfork to my aid,

At length my cry was known:
Therein lay my release.
I met the wolf alone
And was devoured in peace.

THE PHILOSOPHER
(this was the first one I memorized....it really hit a nerve for me, it is still my favorite)

And what are you that, wanting you,
I should be kept awake
as many nights as there are days
with weeping for your sake?

And what are you that missing you,
as many days as crawl
I should be listening to the wind
and looking at the wall?

I know a man that's a braver man
and twenty men as kind,
and what are you, that you should be
the one man in my mind?

Yet women's ways are witless ways,
as any sage will tell--
And what am I, that I should love
So wisely and so well?

This was the in the top of my graduation announcements for college...it fit me perfect

...The world is mine: blue hill, still silver lake,
Broad field, bright flower, and the long white road
A gateless garden, and an open path:
My feet to follow, and my heart to hold.

This was my Christmas Card last year..

"Not Truth, but Faith it is that keeps the world alive"

?

2007-08-30T18:36:00.000-07:00

Why is it that at the moment I know that an entire uncomfortable situation can be averted by simply keeping my mouth shut, my tongue turns into that annoying dog from down the street that just wont stay in his own yard...?

The Fates and Their Ant Farm

2007-08-30T13:03:00.000-07:00

Funny how the best laid plans can fly out the window with a single look. how a lonely heart can go from so very empty to so very full in only a glance. how your face can literally ache from smiling so much. i hope it lasts. i hope it feels the same tomorrow as it does today. a connection, of the heart and soul and mind. seems so perfect. like two halves who've been wandering around their whole lives and then finally come together like opposite ends of a magnet. chemistry. easy easy conversation. agreement on everything substantial. how strange the fates. what games they play with us their ant farm. every so patiently watching from outside the glass. turning the tables and creating the moments that shape our forever. or lack there of.

Lines

2007-08-30T13:02:00.000-07:00

Friendship is such a fine line between love and jealousy. magnetic personalities draw people together so hard and fast sometimes i find myself in the middle of someone, with out ever having taken the time to see them...really see. how do you know when to let the walls down. when to be honest and trusting exposing your skeleton (s) and risking judgement and denial. how far do you go, do you push your luck or play it safe and on the surface. do soulmates souls stay connected even when the minds do not. how is it possible to love completely and not know completely. is it jealous to want what they have, but not neccessarily want them to not have it too? overwhelming emotion, not expressable through vocabulary, when i cant even get my mind around that much joy ... how am i supposed to explain it to you, when i cant fully realize it myself.
my line is smudged, allowing love and friendship and need and want and jealously to all run together. and create the current that is you. boundaries...oh, right...never been one of my strong points.

The Brainwash

2007-08-30T13:01:00.002-07:00

It is dark in the living room, in a chair, in the corner. The timepiece above the television displays 3:38 am. When something haunts me, hunts me, it helps to not go to sleep. You see, at night, during sleep, that’s when the dreams gain entrance. That minute chance at bliss that was subdued all through the day is allowed it’s moment at night, in the dark, when no one can hear it scream. Then it happens, like the breaking of a dam the thoughts arrive, flooding through the gates as soon as the conscious mind exits preparing the way for the dream.
The dream picks its victims carefully and precisely, knowing full well which inner folds to seduce to gain entry, it seeps though, seemingly innocent, unaware, yet fully intent on its purpose. It floods the cavity, filling the space left by the conscious, allowing the heart a play day, a opportunity to expound on the whims that the brain does not allow. The heart warms and welcomes the love, the lust allowing it to evanesce into the being, the wishes and hopes surge in along with past loves, future wants, and current passions filling the shell with completeness. The play continues without at curtain call, the puppets moving to my own direction, choreographing their every feeling, thought and outcome. Slowly the dawn must break, sending the party away as the clock on the mantle chimes, slowly vaporizing and exiting a la Cinderella back through the eyes, the lips, the fingertips, skirting out leaving just fast enough for the conscious mind to catch a glimpse, to find the slipper, to feel, to see enough, to know what it missed, what it desires, and what is absolutely out of reach, just enough to wash the brain, and break the heart

Faith

2007-08-30T13:01:00.001-07:00

FAITH is such an interesting phenomenon, though used mostly in a religious context, I am finding more and more that it is just as meaningful in every aspect of our lives.
To have the faith in yourself to trust your path, your intuition, and you muse, both creatively and personally is something that is not easily found nor followed. I want to have faith in the fates, be they themselves, or a higher being or simply our own hearts and desires, that what is meant to be will truly be, that everything really does happen for a reason and that there is a plan for me, my life, my work, and my love. I want to have the faith that what I do is meaningful to others, whether they know it or not, that I am making a difference in their lives be it substantial or small, that my actions speak volumes about my soul, my heart, and my mind. I want to have the faith to take risks, creatively, personally and financially, in order to better myself and those around me. I want to have the faith that I have purpose, in my life and in the lives of others, and that my purpose is inherently good.

The Dance

2007-08-30T13:00:00.000-07:00

The dance begins with that small look, a glimmer, a twitch of an eyebrow...Then moves onto a nod, an outstretched hand. The hope of a new beginning. Starting with large distance and proper manners, polite noises and bitten tongues, slowly as it evolves things get faster and more dizzying, the chance to turn back is behind, and forward is your only choice. You think you know exactly what you are stepping into, the time, steps, rhythm....But things are not what they seem, and your view gets tighter in, no more the luxury of the wide angle lens. You feel yourself aching to follow, to be led, the space is nonexistent, you are two halves of one whole, with the line where one starts and the other ends indistinguishable. You find yourself no longer able to carry your own weight, but being supported by the owner of your heart. You fight hard to regain your step, but it has been sacrificed, and long out of your control. As much as you want to hate it, you cant help but love, and feel love, no matter the circumstances, procedure, protocol. As you are swallowed into it, you know that you will never escape, and that you should be far more bothered by that, but you cant help but relish in the total dependency, and the safety of its embrace. You may drift away now and then, but it will always bring you back, where you belong.