Fumbling in Space

This isn’t working for me. Every word you utter gets settled on the deception scale in my...

Tue, 12 Aug 2008 15:29:30 -0600

This isn’t working for me.

Every word you utter gets settled on the deception scale in my mind. Is this the whole truth? Is there something that isn’t being said? Is this a flat out lie? Lies slip easily from your lips with the greatest of convictions, leaving me to doubt my own sanity. “You’re bat shit crazy” reverberates through my head, as I try to sort out what is the truth, and what is a cunning cover up. My stress level elevates, and every muscle in my body gets tight, every breath I take is shallow and un-nourishing. My mind plays tricks and works it’s way in and out of realistic and fabricated nightmares. I walk a fine line between reality and the horrors that live in my mind. I feel tremendous shame as I am digging through the trash, thinking, “so this is what my marriage has come to?” I am a ruined heap on the floor. I am troubled when I realize that you will go to great lengths to cover up your truths. These petty lies and half truths are not honorable, are not respectable, are not lovable.

And all the while, I blame myself. “If you had just been a better person. If you had just been stronger and more confident. If you wouldn’t have said anything. If you hadn’t been so controlling. Maybe you wouldn’t be in this situation.” I take responsibility for my part all of this, but I never deserved this. I never deserved to feel so alone, and so betrayed.

From The Archives: The Long Lost "Drunk Larry King" Tapes

Fri, 01 Aug 2008 11:37:19 -0600

From The Archives: The Long Lost "Drunk Larry King" Tapes

I am not a mom. I have been struggling by myself on what it...

Wed, 30 Jul 2008 15:48:24 -0600

I am not a mom. I have been struggling by myself on what it means to be a mom, and if I want to invite that into my life. I am getting to that age, you know the age, where it is do it or don’t.

I have loved Ani for a long time, and her words and music have helped me through many difficult times. This is a cute interview. Love her or hate her, whatever, she is cute and smart.

Sleeping In, and the shit that gets in the Way

Tue, 29 Jul 2008 08:24:17 -0600

I had a very solid plan this morning. I awoke to the alarm, and thought, “You know, I only have 2 weeks of vacation left, and dammit I am going to sleep in today.” So my husband got up and did his morning routine, while I slept soundly. He came back up stairs to give me a kiss and say goodbye, as I drowsily looked at him and wished him a good day. Ah, to snuggle back into a quiet and peaceful sleep.

But then the door closed, and the thoughts came crashing into my little world. All those thoughts that sleep keeps at bay, and with the close of the door, a rush of uninvited musings. “I wonder if he has met her kid? Does she know that he would make a terrible dad? I wonder if he looks at her the same way he looks at me? His birthday is coming up, what is she planning for him? He said he was taking a few days off, does that mean that he is planning on spending one of them with her? Did he email her this morning? What was he doing on the computer? Did my sleeping in make him love me less? How do I accept that I have a shell of man for a husband? And is it really all my fault?”

So much for sleeping in.

So for now I am going to go for my run, and clear out these terrible thoughts, and work on accepting the situation, as is.

“Skillet on the Stove, such a Temptation, maybe I’ll...

Mon, 28 Jul 2008 19:37:38 -0600

“Skillet on the Stove, such a Temptation, maybe I’ll be the Lucky one who doesn’t get burned.”

Burnt Fingers

Mon, 28 Jul 2008 19:36:15 -0600

I just burned the shit out of my fingers on my left hand. Stupid, stupid. They are all smooth…I burnt the finger prints right off. Damn!

Burnt Fingers Haiku

burnt fingers too hot
finger pads smooth and print less
goddamn stove skillet

Audio

Wed, 23 Jul 2008 22:06:44 -0600

Apartment Therapy The Kitchn | Summer Cocktail: The Cuke

Wed, 23 Jul 2008 22:02:44 -0600

Apartment Therapy The Kitchn | Summer Cocktail: The Cuke:

Um, slightly buzzed from this little drink that makes my night. Don’t skimp on the Hendricks. Perfect summer time drink. Classic, and my new favorite.

I love you...

Tue, 22 Jul 2008 14:47:04 -0600

“I love you.” I say with a tone of complete conviction. But as the words fall dully from my lips, I know it is a lie. I don’t love you, and I am slowly learning what that means.

Just as true as the feeling of falling in love and the Universe aligning, so also is the feeling of losing love and the Universe collapsing.

The results are in: According to this picture…I am: well...

Mon, 21 Jul 2008 13:14:42 -0600

The results are in:

According to this picture…I am:
well traveled
nice
chaste
loner
educated
fake
sweet
ok
cute
busy
snotty
proper
grandma
writer
snotty

Intelligence tied between dull and bright (not what I was expecting)
Attractiveness is one up from repulsive (overwhelmingly “not bad”) atta girl!

I am currently cooking up a new picture.

FaceStat - See what people think

Mon, 21 Jul 2008 10:34:12 -0600

FaceStat - See what people think:

Are you ready to test your self esteem and finally figure out what your favorite picture says about you? I must say, I am totally not projecting what I wish to project. Back to the camera with me.

Everybody’s Business - Lessons in Love, by Way of Economics - NYTimes.com

Sun, 20 Jul 2008 11:26:44 -0600

Everybody’s Business - Lessons in Love, by Way of Economics - NYTimes.com

"Hope is oxygen to someone who is suffocating on despair."

Sat, 19 Jul 2008 13:59:47 -0600

“Hope is oxygen to someone who is suffocating on despair.”

And here is my finished piece. I am brilliant! Just call me...

Fri, 18 Jul 2008 19:27:51 -0600

And here is my finished piece. I am brilliant! Just call me Martha in training.

It turns out that this is not the only layer of re-upholstered...

Fri, 18 Jul 2008 19:26:37 -0600

It turns out that this is not the only layer of re-upholstered fabric. Underneath the god awful yellow pleather, is god awful stained greyish fabric with a bright green cross pattern (from the late 50’s early 60’s). And underneath that layer is beautiful, although old and not very comfortable original fabric.

Next I unscrewed the seat of the chair, and got out my trusty...

Fri, 18 Jul 2008 19:23:25 -0600

Next I unscrewed the seat of the chair, and got out my trusty hammer to pull out those god awful nails.

Someone gave me this fabulous hard wood table that was made in...

Fri, 18 Jul 2008 19:22:00 -0600

Someone gave me this fabulous hard wood table that was made in the 20’s, it came with these cute green vintage chairs. But the fabric (faux leather, or pleather) was awful. So I re-upholstered them. So here is a before picture.

Sparrows

Thu, 17 Jul 2008 08:23:00 -0600

A little couple of sweet sparrows chose my front porch to build their nest this summer. They spent a week, gathering mud and twigs and if you look out my front window you can see the nest. In the following weeks, eggs were laid, and hatched. From my window I watched as the baby birds peaked their wobbly heads over the edge of the nest . I have watched them grow and was excited to see them take their first steps out of the nest.

But yesterday…. yesterday it was hot. Like 100 degrees hot. I watched them as they struggled with the heat, panting and bobbing their heads in an attempt to get comfortable. At around 5, when the sun was beating down on the front porch and the heat radiated like a convection oven, I saw one of the birds slumped over the nest, and he wasn’t moving. I sprayed the porch down with water in an attempt to cool the area down, as I fretted over my dead baby bird, and the future of the other four.

I had to leave for awhile, and when I came back, there were two dead baby birds on the ground. I sprayed the porch again, in a desperate attempt to save the others, why did it have to be so damn hot today??? At 8 my husband came home and we surveyed the baby bird carnage, and had a little tear. At 10, another one lay motionless on the ground.

All in all the heat wave took three of my little baby birds. There are two left sitting in the nest, and I can only hope that they make through. I suppose this is where I stick in the whole circle of life bit. But you know it, I know it.

I just thought I would share.

Working and Not Working: The Killing of the Soul

Wed, 16 Jul 2008 08:17:42 -0600

My husband just left for work. It is 7:45 am. I won’t see him again until 10:30 or so, when he returns, tired, grumpy, hungry and generally despondent. His job is sucking his soul right out of his body, and all I can do is watch and hand him a yogurt smoothie in a to go-cup as he rushes out the door for another empty day.

I sit in front of the computer, with the fresh morning sun streaming through my glass door, with the whole day laid out before me in glorious summer splendor. But somehow it seems empty. Instead of sunning by the pool, I soak in a pool of guilt.

My best friend longs to spend his time doing nothing, nothing at all. Sleeping in, and reading the paper. And here I sit, with the complete option of doing nothing all day long, while he toils and sells his soul to the corporate world.

He looks at me with complete hopelessness this morning as he asks, “What are you doing up?” Like I should be comfortably in bed, sleeping the morning away. “Nothing, I just wanted to spend a little time with you.” Which is only partly true, because it is the guilt that makes me get up and arrange his lunch, and hasty breakfast.

When he leaves, I hear the mechanical close of the garage and that seems to be my signal to find something to do, anything that might resemble work. I fill my days with cleaning, organizing and home cooked meals. Grand presentations of reorganizing the kitchen pantry in categories, three layer frosted cakes displayed in a glass cake stand, the floor mopped and waxed reflects my emptiness.

I can’t speak for him, and he doesn’t speak to me. Because you see, in his eyes, in the American man’s point of view; You don’t complain about your job, you just go and do it. Even if it means killing the very best parts of you, even to the detriment of your relationships. Because that is what you do.

And before you berate me for my laziness, or tell me, “get a job bitch!,” or, “get on the workin man’s plan!” I bring in almost as much money as he does, I have a monthly paycheck that could comfortably support us. I teach, and as a perk to putting up with punk kids for 9 months out of the year, they give us a little time to gather ourselves together. It probably the only humane job in the United States.

But my semi-retirement leaves me little joy, as I watch my husband waste away. How many people out there do this daily, slogging through their day, “Just makin’ it.” ?

Annals of Medicine: The Itch: Reporting & Essays: The New Yorker

Wed, 09 Jul 2008 08:48:22 -0600

Annals of Medicine: The Itch: Reporting & Essays: The New Yorker:

It’s long, but really really fascinating. Seriously