PaJamas

I am tired. But it is much too early* to turn in. Going to bed now means that I'll be awake at the very wrong side of dawn, unable to get back to sleep until it is too close to time to get up, which will make me very cranky. I'm having lunch date with mom on Thursday (I get released from work at 12:30 woo hoo) who is "anxious to talk with me" about something. What? I don't know, I'll find out. If I had to guess, I'd say another diagnosis and / or new med 'scrip and she'll be wondering if I think it is a good idea to . . .

Anyhoo, point being, 'tis best to avoid crankiness, especially when lunch with mom is on the docket. Moving on . . .

Pajamas. I like them well enough, the concept of them anyway. But, I wouldn't categorize myself as a pajama kinda girl. I mean I am usually attired in something, that something having been designed and produced for use beyond the purpose of sleeping. That is to say, I usually sleep in a tee shirt and lounge pants or boxers if it is very warm. If I buy a pajama type product it is almost always just the bottoms and almost always from the men's department.

Four, maybe five times over the past 3 years I've been gifted with pajamas. Tops and bottoms, women's, 3 of the pairs flannel (long sleeves, long pants) and all printed with . . . something. three of the four (or five) were most memorable for their . . .design. One was dotted with horses. And cowboys. The field was mostly blue and the horses & 'boys, brown. I donated them to Goodwill (or someplace like that). Another was dotted with skillets and fried eggs. The eggs were not in the skillets, each element was floating about a sea of yellow flannel. After a hearty laugh, I donated them to Goodwill (or someplace like that). The most recent were dotted with . . . well, look
Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not judging if something like this is exactly your style. If this is for you, then fantastic. But, this outfit is definitely not for me. At all. Not only is it printed all over with . . .well, you see, but the pants are too short, and well, for me, just butt ugly. Not quite as ugly as the cowboys and horses or the fried eggs and skillets (and yes, I'm regretting not having taken photos of those) but ugly none-the-less. To me, for me. Just not me.

As you may have guessed the same person is gifting me with these treasures. Her intentions are swell and I appreciate that, but . . . major fail otherwise. This time I asked, "why do you keep getting me pajamas? (I'd mentioned the previous times that I'm not really into pajamas and further, all-over patterned wear . . . ick. However, plaid is barely ok). Her response, "well, I figured they'd be warm."

Well yeah, except I have not complained about being cold when I'm inside and I don't sleep outside. And if I did, not even these very action-packed, flannel things will offer much comfort. Unless of course, they were but one of many layers. This time I said, "I appreciate the pajamas, but they are not really my style and I really prefer other sleepwear. Please . . . "

We shared a laugh over her having forgotten the previous conversations along with me offering, yet again, a definition and description of lounge pants and yes, I know that sometimes they are called sleep (or even pajama) pants, but in my view the pants I prefer can, in a pinch, be worn outside. I would not, even on a dare, wear pajamas (especially those butt ugly ones) outside, not even to empty the garbage.

It would be nice if my request was heeded. But, in all likelihood, it won't

Thankfully, there is Goodwill (and places like that) who will gladly accept these treasures.

*when I started it was barely 9 pm. I have in the meantime, had a martini, two conversations with son and one with mom (to solidify the lunch plans, still no clue about what is on the "agenda") it is now 11 and after a shower, sleeeeeeep.

What's Your Sign?

I forgot my book this morning (that really irritates me) meaning that I didn't have anything to read on the train, so I picked up a RedEye, a local freebie rag. The paper is thin, this morning's edition only 36 pages. It is full of thumbnail sketches of local, national, and international news, entertainment tid-bits, morsels of restaurant, music, and movie reviews, a smattering of sports related spots, puzzles, and horoscopes.

Even if I were to read the paper end-to-end it'd take, well, the ride in to work. Most of the "news" stories are re-hashes of stories I've seen / read elsewhere, so I skip those. Now and again I catch sight of something I didn't know and I'll read that. Usually, I just work the puzzles and every once in a blue moon, I'll check out the horoscope.

This was a blue moon day.

My horoscope read: A lunar eclipse in increasing your libido. Your partner won't know what got into you. You'll demand sexual attention morning, noon, and night. Just realize that your honey might think you're falling in love with (him) or her, so play nice.

Note to self: Don't forget book, again.

And, speaking of partner, mom is still (continuously) in question mode. Peep a recent installment:

Mom: Sooo (she begins most conversations, all inquisitions with soooo) when are you going to Texas again?

Me: I don't know, when I'm invited again? I don' know when that could be, they travel a lot.

Mom: Sooo, yeah? yeah? What do they do?

Me: (I tell her what they do)

Mom: Sooo, is this like the Net(ta) situation? (she has always mis-pronounced her name. For those who are not aware, mom new of Neta, she just didn't know Neta was my girlfriend until a month ago. Or maybe she knew but we didn't discuss it).

Me: No. N(ee)ta was my girlfriend. The Texas women are my friends.

Mom: Sooo, do you have another girlfriend?

Me: No, not yet.

Mom: Sooo, are you working on that?

Me: Well, kinda. But more, I'm working on me. The girlfriend thing will take care of itself in due time.

Mom: :::laughter::: Sooo, okay.

End scene.

Cheers

Two, three, four, no...three martinis later Christmas holiday dinner circa 2009 came to a close. This one wasn't too bad at all, granted my perspective was colored by the buzz, but still, I think it went fairly well.

I came away from the meal (as usual) with some observations / reflections. This year's version:

1. We don't play games. I played games with my children (though Danielle was / is the bigger fan) but I realized, growing up and since, my mother never played with us and doesn't to this day, won't even entertain the suggestion.

2. I never had gin before a couple days ago. Gin martinis are as tasty as vodka martinis. More potent, though. It is possible I haven't established a tolerance, yet. Or my mixing hand just a tad heavy.

3. We don't sing as a family. Each of us sing on our own (along to the radio, music player, whatever) but not together. I think only Michael feels he has a passable singing voice.

4. More than half of the various conversations during dinner were a re-hash or actual verbatim repeats of previous conversations, dominated by mom's church family and siblings (from decades ago).

5. Telling stories...oral history, folklore...is an important (the primary) activity during these family dinners.

6. My mom does not do well with change, or even the suggestion of change.

7. I'd really rather not receive another pair of heavy material, heavily patterned pajamas. Really. Not.

8. Still, I'm sure the next owner of the lovely garments will be rightly enamored with them.

9, You know that line in "The Christmas Story" Aunt Clara had for years labored under the delusion that I was not only four years old . . . well, we got some of that goin' on around here.

10. Pete must have had a reaction to the scent of the butter on the table. I can't think of any other reason why he'd be so adamant about getting on the table, which is quite odd for him when people are around. Buttah is the people cat, Pete's the loner. Had to be the butter luring him.

And oh, know that the antlers on the diva was not my idea. She didn't like them but was, for the most part, a good sport about them. She didn't have to suffer the indignity too long. And she was awarded a treat for her trouble.

Cheers!

Fa-La-La-La

The bus operator on this morning's ride into work was in a jovial mood. He greeted each passenger with, "good morning" and "merry Christmas" when they boarded the bus and another "merry Christmas" upon the exit of each passenger.

For the most part his greetings were well received and returned in-kind. Even folks who weren't particularly happy about being on the bus at 7:30 a.m. on this icy Thursday morning garbled out a "merry Christmas" to the operator.

Cheeriness can be infectious.

We were rolling relatively merrily along until HE boarded the bus. HE is a loud-mouthed, opinionated, gas-bag. He works for some government entity and often boards the same bus, thankfully, well into my ride. There is usually only one, at most three (he boards at different locations) stops between his boarding and my exit.

HE was on the phone when he got on this morning, loudly offering his opinion to whomever was on the other end of the call. It was only after he ended his call and moved forward to pay his fare when the bus operator offered his cheery day before Christmas greeting. Before the final tone of the bus operator's greeting tinged, HE vaulted into a tirade about how December 25th ISN'T Jesus' real birth date, and how celebrating on this date is a sham, a lie. And on and on.

HE can believe what he wants and HE can even voice these beliefs to whomever, whenever, I suppose. I just wish he hadn't disrupted what was proving to be a mostly enjoyable ride in to the four hour sentence work this icy Thursday morning.

Whatever your leanings, however and whenever you choose to celebrate...whatever, may your celebrations be happy, gay and full of glee!

'Tis the season to be jolly. . . Try.

Sh-Boom

The title was going to be, "Sorry, No Pictures" and while I don't have pictures of the trip I like the koi, so heeeerrrrre's koi.

It is not entire accurate to say I don't have pictures of my trip to H-town. I do, there are just not in a format that I can visibly or physically share, at least not in the most traditional sense. Over the course of some time, I suspect that as I reflect, images will be revealed thus telling the tale.

For now, know that I had a blast! I haven't talked, laughed, or eaten so much (and so well) in the span of 2 point however many hours into days in a long, long time.

And yes, there was wine (and more) and even a chance meeting.

Now I must sleep for work-a-day Tuesday looms.


h/t

Review, Renew

I spent two of the past three years falling and and then actively being in love. I found myself wrapped with it's warmth and thrilled by the euphoria that resides in that fascinating state.



This year I've been sinking out of love of that love. The warmth and euphoria ebbing bit by bit every one of these 300 plus days.



Some of the 300 days have been incredibly cold and low. Some, however have been somewhat closer to fine.



It has been an experience I'd just soon not repeat, but one I suppose I needed to have. Into each life a little love must fall? I don't know, what I do know is that I'm ready to put this year behind me. The sinking out of love, the trials experienced by my son, daughter, and mother have well worn me.


Before kicking the dust of 2009 off my heals, I be going on a trip. A small sojourn to the land of Texas. Houston to be more precise. I am being welcomed to eat, drink (wine, more than likely) and be merry by and with some lovely ladies.

To paraphrase the ladies Pointer, I'm so excited, it has been hard to hide it, I'm about to lose control and I've given up fighting it. After one more work day and the office holiday party, I'm out. For all intents and purposes, I am already. Focus. Hard.

I'll be back before Christmas, and here to put the rest of 2009 to bed and to get a leg up on 2010.

I'm so excited!!

Imagine

Imagine there wasn’t a history between you and me. Imagine we were not connected by years of disconnectedness. Imagine we were strangers except for the shared DNA. Imagine.

Do you imagine we could have come together after 50 years of our own separate lives with no memory of a history of birth, laughter mingled with tears, hurts, and haunts?

Imagine us meeting today. You just barely in your 70s and me a stone’s throw from 50, imagine us meeting in a busy restaurant, straining to hear each other’s silences. Imagine you wanting coffee and me not knowing coffee was one of your obsessions.

Do you imagine we’d stumble for the words to say? Would you be interested to hear about all or only some of the past 50 years? Do you imagine you’d share your tales of travels, where the world and life took you since my conception? Would you ask about my mom? Imagine there’d be pictures?

Imagine neither of us coming to this pre-arranged meeting alone, afraid of what we’d find or rather, what we wouldn’t. Sharing no previous history we didn’t have hope nor despair on which to hang our hats. You meet my daughter, I meet your son. We’re polite as are they. Imagine the look in their eyes when they realize they’re nearly the same age.

Do you imagine we’d work through the awkwardness? Would we find enough common ground on which to tread? Would we progress beyond talking about the weather or the economy? Imagine you’d tell me in 100 words or less how, why you found me? Imagine it would be more?

Imagine us meeting today. You just barely in your 70s and me a stone’s throw from 50, imagine us meeting in this busy restaurant, you nearly shouting about the clanking and clattering china, that you were my dad and how you so very much wish you’d thought to do this sooner, before you got sick.

Do you imagine I’d come away from this meeting with love, or . . ?

Imagine there wasn't a history between you and me, imagine.

SPBB*

I work in a three-story office building that is virtually empty. In addition to the business that employs me there are two others and the office of the building’s owner/manager. Our offices and warehouse is on the third floor as are one of the two other businesses and the owner/manager’s office.

The third floor suite of offices share public bathrooms, one for the men and another for the women. Note: Our space has a bathroom but only the 7 (or more) guys use that. I avoid it. The public bathrooms are public in that they are entered via the common areas. They are locked and only lease holders hold keys for each. I don't know about the men's room, but the women's is quite spacious, four stalls and two sinks. And well stocked (of late).

The three businesses / offices on the third floor now employ three women, one in each business / office. And the woman in the owner / building manager's office is a part-timer. All that to say that more often than not, yours truly has the bathroom all to herself. The janitor's closet is inside the women's room, so upon entering I do always check that he isn't there, or that the closet door isn't open. I always lock the door behind me. And while I am a tad weirded out but the tilted ceiling tile, I don't seriously think there is a camera hiding in the crevice of that tilted tile.

So, more often than not I'm alone in the bathroom. Which is good. I like being alone in the bathroom, especially public (or even, semi-public) bathrooms. And I'll admit here and now to engaging in Secrect Public Bathroom Behavior*.

A meet n greet site I'm using poses the challenge, "the most private thing you're willing to admit here" i didn't reveal my SPBB there, but I will reveal it here.

Jumping Jacks. When I'm in the bathroom, after taking care of bathroom-y business and washing hands, I do 5, 10, maybe 15 jumping jacks.

and sometimes squats, though mostly I find that, redundant.

When I'm in the public bathroom alone, with no chance of anyone seeing . . .

Can We Talk?

Late in the workday afternoon my desk phone chimes. I pick up the receiver prepared to spill my usual workday spiel in my, "I am a professional at work" voice: Good Afternoon, this is Deborah. How may I help you? or something very similar.

My daughter, who usually halts me at the beginning of the spiel, let me spiel out, at the end of which she said, "hey, what's up with the phone sex voice? Who are you trying to seduce?"

Laughter ensues.

We finish our conversation, her observation timely considering that earlier that day an office mate received a call from a vendor who commented on the "voice" of our automated attendant. My voice is the voice. The office mate said that his caller thought the voice was sexy, and asked if it were a real person. We both got quite the chuckle out of that...anyway, daughter and I finish our conversation and I move on with my afternoon.

About an hour later my mom calls. I pick up the receiver prepared to spill my usual workday spiel in my, "I am a professional at work" voice: Good Afternoon, this is Deborah. May I help you? My mom, who never stops me mid-spiel, had a very different reaction, "are you ill?"

Sexy or ill. Hit or miss.

Honest Scrap: Thanksgiving Edition

This is an award. An award posing as a meme with all the meme attachments. As is my usual custom, I will pass on the some of the special conditions. Though I do consider all the blogs I read award worthy. I will comply with the special condition of listing 10 facts . My twist as the title indicates, these facts as are related to Thanksgiving 2009 at Deborah's Place.
1. "This place is a zoo!" When son moved out three years ago there weren't any pets. He spent Thursday and Friday nights (the first sleep-over since his move) and while he wasn't surprised by the presence of the fur-babies, he was surprised by their (primarily Buttah's)attachment to him. My son, we've discovered, is not a cat person. He was relatively good-natured about it though. Still, the second night Buttah had to have his nocturnal roaming curtailed, just a bit.

2. Maneuvering about the (small) kitchen with a grey dog and orange cat constantly under-foot hoping for accidental drops added a layer of challenge to the day.

3. Speaking of challenge: My Mother vs. My Daughter. ::sigh::

4. However, 2 glasses of wine, 2 vodka martinis, and a tequila/rum margarita did not hamper my peacekeeper/maker capabilities. In fact, may have even helped.

5. A "Happy Thanksgiving" call from a new acquaintance was a rather nice surprise.

6. And "Happy Thanksgiving" (and more) text messages from a dear, dear friend resulted in warm fuzzy feelings.

7. I forgot the mashed taters and gravy. Hi-ever, no one seemed to notice (or care).

8. Though not quite my kryptonite, homemade mac n cheese is most def, da bomb!

9. 'Tis a fact, mom mis-remembers events from my childhood. It was older brother not younger who crashed into a parked car with his bike, suffering an injury that required stitches to his left ear.

10. In addition "remember when . . ." talk, dinner convo included my revelation. I answered the question she hasn't (or refused) to ask. Due to the emotions of the day (see mom vs daughter note above) she was not up to discussing it much then and because of a visit from that Aunt (& the cramps she rode in on) a surprise after many, many (ok, maybe just one many, but still, a while) months, I have not up to discussing it much since. But, more talk will ensue, of this I am sure.

Still, the news (good, all good) is out and so (step-by-step) am I.

The Eyes Had It

Diva dog isn't wild about the grooming process. And as a result the process is usually managed over several days. Depending on where she is in the process (or where Danielle started) you might see the right side shaved but the left relatively shaggy.

Or to see her body hair sheared to a respectable length while her legs look like she's wearing furry boots. Diva dog is particularly antsy about her legs being touched, for even more that the clippers and scissors she. does. not. like. her. nails. cut.

Many months ago, on the bad advice of someone of little consequence now, Danielle sheared Diamond the Diva dog nearly bald. That looked horrible. Much of the Diva's character was being swept into a trash bag.

Shameful. Even Diamond seemed to know how badly she'd fared that time. Perhaps why she puts up a bit more of a fuss when the shears come out. I think she was in day 3 of a recent progressive grooming cycle when this pic was snapped.

Her face, especially around the eyes, is usually the last round.

Every few weeks when it's time for the grooming cycle to begin and we try to push D-dog through too many cycles in a single day I think about Truvy's comment about "nobody wanting a full day of beauty".

Certainly not our little Diamond in the ruff.

Spread Out

Photo Via

For a variety of reasons, I had a fleeting notion of not hosting a Thanksgiving feast this year. But then I changed my mind. The spread kinda sorta planned won't be anything terribly elaborate and the guest list will be short; only be mom, son, me, and possibly daughter (& her boyfriend). She mentioned wanted to experience the day with the boyfriend and his family. Apparently, fried fish is in the mix. She fears however, that if she isn't there to stake her claim to my fixins' she'll be s.o.l. as Michael will eat his fill then be offered to-go tubs as is the usual tradition. Of course, she needn't worry.

I haven't been feeling particularly festive lately, which I guess is part of why I decided to host the gathering. We have each faced some piercing and far-reaching challenges this year and in recent weeks, particularly. And I suppose, all the more reason to gather together. I've been feeling like we are each on the verge of some major changes and not all of them positive, necessarily.

For a variety of reasons, I have been feeling like we won't have too many more all-together festive gatherings. And I suppose, all the more reason to gather together this time, as often as we can and make (and take) the best of each experience.

Odd, But Not

On the work voice-mail this week: Deb? this is Joanie . Hey, did you change your e-mail address again? You haven't responded to my e-mail. Stella and I are getting worried about you. CALL ME at xxx-xxx-xxxx, right away. Let me know you're OKAY.

WDDD?

I don't know what possessed me to pick up the land line at home. I so very rarely do anything quite so risky. But, I did and on the other end, a sales/tele-marketing person? Nooooo, a ghost from the past. A former supervisor. And while he made all the hey, how are you, the kids, and all noises, the real purpose for the call was to find another of our group. They apparently had kept in better touch since the business dealings forced our separation. but recently seemed to have lost touch. He wondered if I knew anything, had heard anything. I didn't. I don't. I hadn't.

She and I hadn't been in contact for quite awhile now as she never seemed interested in any real cultivation of friendship. She had become one of those kind of e-mailers and has long since fallen off my radar. Obviously, I don't wish her any ill will and I told our former boss that I'd see what I could find out. I checked a few data-bases to no avail.

This has been a week for calls from past lives. Another former co-worker, going back much further than the decade or so the former boss represents, called my office line. She and I were friends and we'd kept in touch for a time after she left the company in '86? '87? Anyhoo, she said, "guess who this is?" And while I nearly said her name, I reacted as if I had no clue. The voice had a familiar ring but was tinged with time, leaving it slightly altered from that which I'd stored in memory.

We talked, laughed back and forth as if no time at all had elapsed. Fun, that. Continuing on this path will fill me with much glee.

So, this week worth of calls has been a mixed bag. To have heard from each of this entities in the span of 5 days after having not heard from them (Joanie's emails aside) in years, decades is the kind of thing my mom would have looked up in her numerology book toward finding lottery numbers to play, when she was into that sort of thing.

Any hidden meanings in the confluence of events? I don't know, but they certainly added some additional twists to an already twisty week. For all the calls I did get there are a few I didn't.

Dear friends, please know you're on my mind and in my heart. ♥

Meno Mean ?

Probably should have just said yes to something, anything. But offer after offer, all I could say was, "no thank you." Mom offers me things; food, ugly (and a size too large) clothing, a variety of household goods she's gotten from others, and more. At one time I accepted these things to be nice. Most of the items got donated elsewhere, while a good faith effort was made to eat the food.

But some time ago I stopped accepting the items. Much of the food my mom prepares these days don't fit my own dietary requirements or tastes. As for the other items, I have enough of my own (and daughter's) accumulated shit overflow goods that I just don't have the room to store more prior to the haul (or rather series of hauls) to various donation outlets.

So, I turned down her flurry of offers in what I thought was a kindly and courteous manner. Mom sighed, "well, I don't know what I can offer you." To which I replied, "you don't have to offer me anything." To which she queried, "is it the menopause that makes you mean?"

Well, gee as I don't think I am mean I'd have to say no, me + meno doesn't = mean. But hey, maybe I'm coming off in a way I don't intend.

I shall be commissioning a study. I shall keep you posted as to the results.

Photo Credit

Wrap Up

It was not my plan to go to Navy Pier . I got a later start for my journey to the downtown theatre showing Precious as the result, I missed the 2:00 pm showing. The pier being only a few blocks further east presented as an obvious (inexpensive) choice to burn some time before the next showing.

I eased into the morning, day with a light breakfast and a couple of cups of coffee after which I got myself together to go do a load of laundry. The laundry mat I use is a bit over a mile away. I decided to take advantage of the pleasant start to the day and bike it on down there.

About a third of the way I experience some sinking feeling. I pat my pockets for my keys.

No keys. Gone. Shit!

Every single time I wear one of several pair of cargo shorts, I forget to put the keys in the cargo pockets. I use the slant pockets, which aren't very deep. I hear the clang as they hit the ground, but I don't register the clang, as the clang of my keys. Until I'm several blocks away and that sinking feeling prompts me to pat the pockets.

Backtrack. Heart racing, hoping they are on the ground, still. Not much time as passed, so hope is high. But, still. I detest losing keys. AND there isn't anyone home but the fur babies. They can't retrieve the spares and throw them down to me. AND there weren't any open windows even if any one of them COULD locate and collect the spare keys.

I miss them on the first pass while I was on the bike. I park the bike, backtrack again on foot, and whew . . . success! I have to admit, a bit of cream was burned off the joy that is a beautiful November day and certainly, I'm beyond wanting to continue to the laundry. But, washing today? A must.

An hour or so later I'm still going back and forth in my mind about trekking downtown to the movie theatre. I want to see the flick, I don't know when I might get another chance, and so . . that plus the gorgeous weather helped convince me to venture out.

Still, I dilly-dallied long enough that catching the 2:00 p.m. showing would require quite a bit of luck and a rocket propelled train. Well, as you know, I missed the 2:00 p.m. showing. That gave me the opportunity to take in what is usually one of my least favorite destinations.

Today however, thanks to the gorgeous weather, some of the businesses being closed for the season resulting and the Bears playing a home game, resulting in a lighter crowd, the pier was quite pleasant. the pier wasn't terribly crowded. The weather and lack of overwhelming crowd made for a nice, pleasant way to spend part of an afternoon.

The movie, as you can probably tell from the trailer, is bleak. The subject matter is not at all up-beat. But, it was good. There were some decent performances and some only so-so. The filming and story-telling styles felt herky-jerky to me, taking away a bit of the power and punch the film should have delivered. But over-all, good. Having witnessed some of what Precious experienced, made the film that much harder to watch.

Still, I'm glad I got our for more than chores today. I'm glad circumstances had me in the later showing (I think the 2:oo was sold out anyway) for coming home in the clear, crisp evening was as enjoyable as the the early part of day had been.

All-in-all, a good day wrapping up a good weekend.

??????? And Then Some

Hey Debbie: How come I have not heard from you in such a long time???? What is going on???? Are things okay with you, Michael and Danielle and your mom????


My old friend is at it again.

She goes on to say she was mentioning to Stella (another former co-worker) that she hadn't heard from me in ages and ages, hope all is well, yadda yadda... Stella relayed to Joan (as reported by Joan) that she hadn't heard from me either. Note: Stella was burned out of her apartment nearly two years ago and I've yet to receive notice of her re-location address and I never had her phone number. Even before the fire, Stella didn't respond to my letters. Yes, actual letters. Any Stella news came from Joan.

After a couple of letters and no reply, I stopped writing.


Joan finishes, Please write soon and let me know that you are alright. I am getting very concerned.

Her message arrives at a time when I do not have the time, patience, or nary a hint of desire to massage her . . . whatever. Her, let me know that you are alright. I am getting very concerned sounds too much like someone much nearer and dearer to me and quite frankly I have enough on my hands and heart dealing with her various physical, emotional, and housing issues.

So Joan, I will not be writing soon. In fact, I will not be writing at all. If you call the office I may be available to speak with you, however, please know that I am very busy these days.

Never-the-less, I wish you well and when to talk with Stella, pass on my hellos.

Definition

Laid Back Halloween Party: A dinner of Chinese food (a promise of the best egg foo young, ever), dessert of taffy apples, beverage of choice, candy, (bonus: passing out to trick-or-treaters) and of back-to-back Dexter episodes.

2. Four women. Good food. Good time.

Don't Know Why

Walking down the street the other day with nothing much on my mind except watching where I stepped, lest I trip on a pebble or nothing (I'm prone to that) I began to take notice of car grilles. Don't ask me why, I do not know why.

I work on a block with service drives on either side of the thru street. The parking rules dictate that vehicles pull in, generally on a slight angle (though the street in not lined) giving one so inclined full, un-obstructive views of vehicles grilles. The other day I was so inclined. Don't ask me why, I do not know why.

There were a variety of makes and models parked along a 2 block stretch (the extent of my research parameter) and I noticed that styling for grilles mostly alternated between a boxy rectangle with vertical grid lines, as if to suggest open-mouthed teeth bared in a grimace. Like so:

Or a kind of trapezoidal took with the corners pointed up in a mock metal smile. Depending on the sharpness of the angles, the smile could appear friendly or sinister, such as:

There was one make / model that didn't follow the general pattern noted. That, being the Mini Cooper. The Mini doesn't grimace nor does it smile. The Mini frowns. See exhibit C:

Don't ask me why, I do not know why.

Head's Up

Last weekend it was the eczema outbreak and this, a cold. A cold that rudely took up residence in my head, throat, and chest. When I wasn't asleep, I was coughing, sneezing, and oozing fluids from my nose and eyes.

Gorgeous, yes I know.

My gorgeous self woke up this morning after a fitful night. A dream that surprisingly, I remember was quite disturbing. It involved the kid's dad and had me literally gasping for air. It was the closest I've come to a nightmare in quite some time.

Also, I snore. I've been told that I snore, but I never really believed it. Does anyone ever? I think, perhaps it might be worse when I'm sick.

Maybe.

Anyhoo... my gorgeous self woke up this morning and the trip to the bathroom mirror confirmed my suspicsions, drool. In addition to the leaky eyes, dripping nose I had achieved fluids triple play. Yep, gorgeous. I know.

On the bright side, the dream was just a dream, the cold is just a cold, and the meds, mega tons of soup, orange juice, and bed rest seem to be working.

I'm beginning to feel more like myself. Which is good, feeling blah really sucks socks.

Topped

My day started at 4:36 a.m. I don't know what startled me awake, likely a dream. If it was a dream it vanished as soon as my eyes opened, probably even before. The room was dark and quiet. Both conditions out of the ordinary. I've been trying something new. I'm not happy with the results, but perhaps I need to give it more time. I shall.

Anyhoo...my day started at 4:36 a.m. I didn't try to go back to sleep, but I did linger in bed until I couldn't any longer. After the bathroom run, I returned to bed, but didn't sleep. I lingered longer. A bit after six the day began in earnest. The boys and D-dog were happy.

From that point on the day was rather routine, outside of a co-worker commenting on my face ("it looks better") and another coming to complete is I-9 form asked if the tattoo of his social security (inside left wrist) would satisfy the document requirement. Otherwise, routine.

End Scene. I've been tagged. Thanks NCP! This is the one word survey. Y'all know the drill, if you wanna, top - on!!

1. Where is your cell phone? Pocket
2. Your hair? Short
3. Your mother? Florence
4. Your father? James
5. Your favorite food? Potato
6. Your dream last night? Vaporized
7. Your favorite drink? Tepid
8. Your dream/goal? Solvency
9. What room are you in? Living
10.Your hobby? Drawing
11. Your fear? Drowning
12. Where do you want to be in 6 years? Earth
13. Where were you last night? Home
14. Something that you aren’t? Four
15. Muffins? Crave
16. Wish list item? Canon
17. Where did you grow up? NSEW
18. Last thing you did? seventeen
19. What are you wearing? Socks
20. Your TV? On
21.Your pets? Asleep
22. Friends? Some
23. Your life? Static?
24. Your mood? Reasoned
25. Missing someone? Still
26. Vehicle? Dream
27. Something you’re not wearing? Suspenders
28. Your favorite store? Nope
29. Your favorite color? Rainbow
30. When was the last time you laughed? Today
31. Last time you cried? Same
32. Your best friend? DP
33. One place that I go to over and over? Lavatory
34. One person who emails me regularly? 'cuz
35. Favorite place to eat? Mine

Easy Like Sunday Morn'

That is to say, I'm trying to take it easy. Though part of me does feel guilty to be wasting what has turned into a near perfect autumn day, I feel it best to stay indoors and as quiet as possible. You see, I had an eczema outbreak on Friday. I worked Friday, but the itching, rubbing, trying to relive the itching, and repeat, made it extremely hard to focus, thus making it extremely hard to power through the list of tasks. I got mostly done, or rather done with the most tedious of the tedious things.

By the time I checked out, half-hour earlier than the usual 5:00, my face felt like it'd been chewed from the inside out. It was hot from having been rubbed raw. By the time I got home to my tea tree soap, cool water, and prescribed ointment it was all i could do to apply and crash.

I haven't experienced an outbreak this bad in a long time, twenty years or so. I don't know what triggered this break. In the past it's been food. Or certain perfumes, shampoos, lotions or the like. I'm not usually affected by fabrics, but maybe that has been a factor too. It was cool this week just passed and I've been wearing sweaters (which aren't new) and scarfs (one of the two, is new) maybe I'm beginning a fabric allergy.

Kmae suggested that it might be stress. And while I don't feel stressed there are things going on that have me somewhat anxious.

Fact is, I don't know what triggered this outbreak. It could have been any one thing or combination of things. Maybe remembering and feeling the memory of being in TN a year ago this weekend. Or maybe, it's like the 17-year cicadas. Maybe it was my body sending some kind of message.

Whatever the trigger, the remedy of Tea Tree soap, cool water, wonderfully effective topical ointment, rest, and keeping clear of . . . most everything, anything that might re-fire the situation has been the order of Saturday and now Sunday. The face chewing itching has subsided and the face is a little less raw, just peeling a bit. Oh yes, a sight.

Monday is back to the grind but today is more of Saturday's plan . . . slow and easy, rinse and repeat.

I'm Gonna Tell Yo Momma

Remember the cousin who e-mails me forwarded junk stuff? Well, it has continued, once a week or so since that post. In the beginning I opened every one. Then, as I determined no special thought was proffered along with the forwards, I slowed on opening them and often simply ignore them. Now and again, I'll get suckered intrigued by the subject line, hoping for something profound, interesting or really, really funny.

Damn. I would assign them to spam but she is, well, family and she might someday send me something . . . relevant.

Recently I heard from my mother that this cousin is hurt that I don't even bother to respond to her missives.

WHAT?!?

Did I mentioned these are forwards?

That she doesn't even preface? Not even with a "HELLO"??

The most recent spat of Fw: Fwd: include: 7 reasons not to mess with children --a take on children say the darnedest things You can't fix stupid --10 recitations of stupid human tricks and Generation Y --a breakdown of the various generations; silent, baby boomers, X and Y --and why Y? a cartoonist's rendition of a young male with his pants sagging revealing the Y at the top of his ass.

Hardee har har har....

Probably I should (could) at least acknowledge the mail. As she told my mom, "I make a special effort to reach out."

I'm a little miffed that she told my mom. She's 53 years old!!

My first thought was to file mom's report away as...heh. Oh sure, rant and rave (to Danielle) but otherwise let forwarding emailers rest.

But, I didn't. I emailed my cousin and I told her why I don't respond to her forwards. I let her know that while it is nice? to be included in the list, it'd be nicer still to hear how she, her husband, daughters, and grandson are doing. It might be nice if she asked after me and mine, once in awhile. That I might be more apt to respond to fw: fwd: if there weren't all soooo banal.
I thought once, twice, before hitting send. Was I stepping into a beehive? Would I be stung?

send

Spinning

It could be because there is too much coffee in my system as I've just realized that I've downed 1/2 a pot, 6 cups (only half, because I only made 1/2 a pot). It could be because in addition to the 1/2 pot of coffee there was also the two slices of peanut butter toast not to mention the carrot cupcake topped with butter cream icing. It could be all that. But, it could also be this: That little girl in pink with the one finger thrust in the air, posing for the camera, is my little girl. We were celebrating that day the event of her very first birthday. On that day in October it was all about balloons, cake, ice cream, and fun...for her. Today, as we celebrate the event of her 24th birthday it is still about balloons (well, one anyway ::smirk::) cake, ice cream (in the cake ) and for fun her, but it is also about our evolution as mother and daughter, as women. It is also about who we have become individually and as a unit. It is also about how relate and are related.

To say that I love my daughter (or she me) is only the beginning. There are so many layers to who we are as women today, October 11, 2009.

In addition to being my daughter's 24th birthday, it is also National Coming Out Day and as part of that celebration and commemoration, I joined a movement that utilized the automatic fb status update device. The status update:

Deborah Xxxxx is a lesbian. It is National Coming Out Day and I pledge to have heartfelt conversations for lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender equality.

The status ran for a few days leading up to and then of course, including today. My daughter took a few moments out of her celebratory week to comment on my status:

Danielle Xxxxx U GO GIRL!!! I LOVE AND RESPECT U!!!!! YAY
Yesterday at 8:49pm

Like I said yesterday, my story is evolving and I am beyond overjoyed that my daughter plays an active role in that evolution. My head, it spins.

Happy, happy, joy, joy to my girl, daughter, and friend.

Four Words

I am a lesbian. Those four words uttered to my son and daughter a bit over three years ago released a lifetime of secrets, walls, barriers, avoidances, distances and silences.

I am a lesbian. The power of those four words pushed me toward understanding my truth and empowering me to live that truth from that day forward.

Those four words led me to wonderful bloggers, women who have become allies, confidantes, and friends. Those four words led me to meetings, adventures, and women in my local area with whom I hope and expect to continue building friendships.

I am a lesbian. In the private comfort of my own home, to my son and daughter, to the bloggers I met (just before) and since the reveal, to the women I've met in the last year or so, to the woman I hold near my heart, to these folks, I am a lesbian.

To the world at large, I'm largely, not. However, those four words, I Am A Lesbian the love and support of my family and friends, paired with my own zeal will catapult me even further.

My coming out story is more an evolution. In the words of one of entertainment's most famous divas, "I'm coming out, I want the world to know, got to let it show."

"I'm coming out!"

for Syd

D, as you probably know works as a vet tech in the spay/neuter clinic of our local animal shelter. The shelter receives support in the form of volunteerism and donations from the community. Often, the donations include items that the shelter is unable to use. Those items are either forwarded to other shelters, animal hospitals, the shelter's own resale shop, or other resale shops. Sometimes the items are retained to be sold in the shelter store or given away with new adoptions. Now and again D spies and item that seems a perfect match for one (or more) of our furry brood. The lovely pink pet bed was one such item. Irresistible, isn't it? D won the office bid and was able to bring the lovely pink pet bed home. Buttah didn't waste any time making himself at home. That's Buttah to a T.

However, D had planned the bed for Diamond (irony and as a way to telegraph d-dogs dominant attitude over the house cats). Diamond was not at all interested in the lovely pink bed (unless there was a treat hidden in the cushion. Also, she's a tad too stout and long to lie comfortably (she likes to splay her legs when at deep rest).

We still have to find the perfect location for the lovely pink pet bed.

Another Saturday Night

The boys are at it again, still. No news there, nothing to see, let's move it along . . .

Not a big fan of being in the water (as in swimming) I am a big fan of water, ripples to waves. Water is a fascinating element.

Several weeks ago one of the meet-up groups had a change. The organizer(s) decided to step down from that position as they needed to concentrate on other pursuits. I met them for a few adventures and like them very much. Luckily, I get to keep up with them (and they me) via fb and blogging.

The meet-up organization sent out a call for a new organizer and in stepped Ronnie. She is the organizer of another group and felt it wouldn't be overly taxing to add the Thrifty Queer Adventurers. Eager to meet the new organizer, I was happy to see the first event scheduled soon after the announcement.

The second even came shortly after the first and it was during that event Friday night, that Ronnie invited me (and the other participant) to a party, Saturday night.

A party? Me?

My first instinct was to decline the invitation. I didn't decline outright, but offered to defer, "let me see how Saturday pans out, I'll let you know." The evening wore on (and on, not in that way, but fun none-the-less) and the subject was broached once, twice again. I agreed to go to the party.

Ronnie quipped, "It's a pot-luck, surprise, surprise. Lesbians and pot-luck!" And so, there was food, drink, music via a deejay, dancing and lots and lots and more, w-o-m-e-n.

There were women from the city and 'burbs, women in business and skilled trades, women in partnerships and those not. I talked, laughed, and danced with women. Lots and lots and more, women.

I'm a big fan of women, ripples to waves. Women are fascinating elements.

bubbled over

I'm a fan of love stories in reel life as well as real life. No wonder then that upon learning of the screening dates for "Hannah Free" I immediately marked my calendar, determined to attend at least one of the screenings.

Very soon after I began making my plans e-mail from one of my newer meet-up groups announced a meet-up to the 9/25 screening.

Hot Dog. I rsvp'd!

The night of the 25th I found myself in the famed Gene Siskel Film Center, ticket in hand, domestic beer on the table talking with Linda. She relayed to being new to the area, finding herself suddenly and surprisingly single after 14 years with, "the love of her life." She accepted a job in Chicago, packed up and moved. She joined a couple meet-up groups, signed on to attend this screening and here we are, trading tales.

I confessed to lacking confidence in these kinds of situations, but was determined to force myself out, expand my zones of comfort. Linda thought I was doing very well, engaging, making eye-contact. She thought I seemed at-ease, quite comfortable.

A few sips of a domestic beer and being in a roomful of amiable lesbians might have factored in my level of comfort. Or not.

Me, Linda and others (it's not clear if we were there to meet the same meet-up group or if we were parts of two groups) found seats and chatted a bit more before the movie began. Just prior to lights out a group of women (and a couple of guys) walked toward the stage to address the audience. Sharon Gless was one of the group. AND she spoke!

Be still my ♥ !

The evening, already a pleasure leaped to sheer joy. The only downer, not on the evening specifically but for the past couple of weeks, and especially the last couple of days, my emotions have been in hyper-drive. I cry at the drop of a pin these days.

That is buggin' me out and driving me to distraction.

Another Day, Another Holler

Renee lingered in bed long after the alarm chirped. The snooze feature was deactivated because Darlys preferred to perform those duties in her own unique fashion. Renee counted down, 3, 2, 1 here it comes, "GET UP RENEE!" Darlys yelled from the bathroom. Renee emitted a grunt and a prolonged groan.


Darlys caught the tail end of that groan and pursed her lips to say for the umpteenth time, "if you don't like it, quit. Another groan followed closely by a sigh. Darlys kneeled down next to the bed, searched under the covers until she found Renee's hand, she squeezed lightly and whispered, "I understand honey, but it will be ok. We'll be ok." Darlys released Renee's hand as well as the topic. Renee would come to a decision in her own time.

This has been going on for weeks now. Each day brings a new frustration. Renee is no longer challenged by her work, yet she is rooted to the place, not just because it is her mom's place but also though she doesn't like what she's doing now, she doesn't know what to do next. She's conflicted and though she won't admit it, scared.

I wrote this some weeks ago for the Weekend Wordsmith prompt that week, but never posted it because I couldn't finish it before the next prompt went up. It still isn't finished but I figured what they hey, I'd didn't want it languishing in draft mode. I suppose I could have deleted it, but no, it shall serve a purpose as being the buffer to yet another CAT post.

This is about the other cat.

The first words out of my mouth this morning (to a human) were, "YOUR cat shat in the dog's bed." Had I been in a poetic mood I suppose it would have come out, "your cat shat on the mat."
But no, poetry wasn't on my mind.

When Buttah does something inappropriate HE is HER cat. Otherwise, he's mine (or our ) loving, lovely orange kitty. This morning he (and his shit) were all hers.

She groaned and asked, "is it soft?"

It wasn't (very) and I told her so adding, "he's cleaning his feet." To which she yelled, "HE JUST DID IT!!?" Another groan.

Buttah hasn't ever done anything like this before and we're hoping it's an aberration rather than a new bad habit. We are routinely quite diligent about cleaning the pans. I'll admit to being a tad slow about it this morning, but they didn't seem that soiled.

I stood corrected.

It would appear that the morning routine might need some tweaking to accommodate the little prince's early morning poo-ti-tude.

Meandering

Pete is sitting atop my cd/dvd/video cabinet. He isn't supposed to be there, he is not usually there. He is resting upon a placement one of the kids made in kindergarten. He is flanked by a Rubik's cube and a Rubik's(?) snake, currently fashioned into a sphere.

Pete is obscuring a blown-up, boxed framed photo of my former in-law's Mississippi front yard and road leading to (& away) from their front door.

In the background, Magda.

The sentry Magda is diligent about alerting about an open door (front or back), reminding us that it is now time to exit after she is armed and that she must be disarmed upon entering. When properly coaxed Magda will even relay a customized message, "greetings, have a pleasant day" was recently deleted.

Magda wasn't speaking during Pete's visit to the top of the cabinet. Pete isn't supposed to perch on the top of the cabinet. It is not a usual place for him to rest. Every now and again Pete sets out to explore. He discovers a nook, a cranny, a place to perch that he hadn't known existed.

Or hadn't cared.

For a few minutes, hours or days he is in kitty adventurer heaven. He is re-located to a more appropriate pet perch or he moves on, on his own, off on a new discovery.

I'm fairly certain Magda didn't object. Or, if she did, she didn't say.

Not Sooo Fried Day

Eleven AM, that’s when I realized that I’d dribbled some of my morning hygiene routine on my shirt. I’d been at work for 3 hours already. Traveled on public transportation with a big (well, not sooo big, but big enough) dollop of toothpaste infused dribble on my shirt.

Damn.

Some clean up, suffering a temporary wet spot, some pretzel pieces later, and onward went the day.

Which given the givens, wasn’t half bad. I did ride my bike to and from work on Monday and Wednesday. My knees were a little sore Thursday (and still but a little less so today) but not enough to stop the show. I’m sure the shock of so much (sudden) pedaling is making them moan. I have an {app} for that. Me and my knees will be back at it in the mid-morning.

My mind is moving in about 45 different directions in about as many different speeds, so I’ll close off with a summary update:

*Many months ago I put up a profile on a couple of meeting / dating sites. Zilch. Well, nearly but nothing to get excited about, much. note to canada: yo, you're in canada. I do enjoy chatting with you when we manage to catch up with one another.

*I started another recently on another site, but didn’t follow all the way through. As a result I’m getting (daily) matches by mail that are . . . male, kinda Christian, kinda don’t know if they want kids. I either need to finish or delete, as clearly certain presumptions have been made on my behalf.

*The owner’s new business (housed in the bank of rooms next door) has (so far) put on the payroll: Jeff, JR, Joanna, Jason, and most recently, Justin. Odd.

*I prepared eggplant for only the 2nd time in my life last night. I don’t recall ever seeing, having eggplant as a child and thus, no reference in my early adult-hood. I didn’t care for it (much) the first time, though that likely had as much to do with my preparation than the vegetable. I enjoyed it much more last night, more efforts to follow.

*I haven’t been cooking much lately, but I sense a shift in the making.

*I didn’t join FB to keep up with family. Mother provides all the updates and relevant (or otherwise) commentary.

*My fantasy football team, dubbed deb, won last week’s match-up. Yay. However, my Top Chef pickings are getting trounced, week after week, after week. Sigh.

*Tonight: stuffed peppers and spinach salad. Yum

*Tomorrow: (a) county fair, with some thrifty queer adventurers. Yay

*Every time I want to type county, I type country and have to correct.

*Though sickened and angry about much that is going on in the city, country, world there is goodness, there is positive energy flowing, and there is hope. Join me in serving up some good, positive vibes to all who could use a dose. Thanks

New (or rather Re-Newed) Attitude

I rode my bike to work Monday. I plan to ride again Wednesday and again to a meet-up event on Saturday. Each round trip to and from work is about 13 miles and the Saturday round trip will be closer to eleven.

Riding to work isn't new, but Monday was the first time this year for a few reasons. One, the weather for much of the bike season had been too un-predictable. Two, to be perfectly frank I was scared off the road. Riding a bike in city traffic is not for the faint-hearted. And while I've been riding Chicago neighborhoods since I was seven years old, and don't consider myself faint-hearted, last year I encountered some situations that proved a little stressful.

Third, Bella is ill. I've tinkered and tweaked, but what is ailing Bella will require more than I can manage right now. Luckily there was a long neglected bicycle in the storage area. I asked around and no one knew anything about the bike or owner. It appears she was left behind by a previous condo owner. Beyond some flattened tires and a broken rack she seemed in pretty good shape. I pumped some air in the tires, removed the broken rack and made a few other adjustments. I did some test runs around the neighborhood before venturing further out.

She did well on Monday, well enough that I'm confident she'll hold up for the subsequent rides. She's smaller than Bella and thus, just this side of being too small for me. As a result, rides longer than a six or seven mile stretch probably wouldn't be comfortable. The jaunts to work and back, and similar distance trips will be ok through the end of the season, I think.

I'm back out on the (city)road. Though still a little scared it felt good and I am determined. I need the work-out and I need to take back my streets. Careful, yes. I am. Very. Still, I made pretty good time (in) on Monday. Not shocked but a wee bit surprised. The ride home was longer only because there was more traffic and I wasn't as lucky with lights. I hope the pleasant weather we've been having decides to hang around a good while longer as it would be nice to get in three 10-13 mile rides a week through the end of October. In fact, it would be better than nice.

An aside to the woman with the short blue dress and fierce high heels, thank you, your legs are quite beautiful and double thanks for buying that ice cream cone. Yum.

Sunday Morn / Afternoon

• Curious about what is whirling in the minds of folks while they stand and watch their clothes whirling in the dryer.
• I'm trying not to read too much into mom delivering coupons, to D*nkin' D's, B*rger K*ing, Big Micky's and the like. She is fully aware of my quest.
• Speaking of the quest, yes still on it and yes, still some measurable success. Though, progress (in direct relation to effort) has slowed.
• Re-energizing focus in that regard as we speak (so to speak).
• Went to the Newberry yesterday to view this documentary and experience the panel discussion. Fascinating stuff.
• After the viewing and talking, went on a long walk and more talk with son. Fascinating stuff.
• The orange cat is almost never out of view. He likes to be wherever you are.
• I've gone hours now without speaking a word aloud to anyone (but the cats).
• I think I'll go across the street and place an order. I'm sure to get some vocalizing in there.
• During a recent purge of empty / near empty hair / body product bottles from the bathroom I came across directions? from one of daughter's many (many) products: use me: message me in. you'll forgive and forget with so much creaminess. rinse and rebound.
• And with that, I'm going to have some lunch.

September

So far September has been rather lackluster for me, or to put another way, lacking in the lust---but that means something totally different, doesn't it? Anyhoo...what I mean to say is September has been rather ho-hum, so far.

I don't blame it on the month per se though it isn't one of my favorites, if such a thing were to exist. As you may recall, I'm not big on the notion of favorites . . .

Favorite Books of All Time: I really don't like naming 'favorites'. So many books speak to me for so many reasons. Favorites of all time? There are many. Several. To name but a few would diminish the import of the others.

September is full of not so pleasant memories past . . . my older brother and dad have birthdays in September. My ex-husband's birthday is also in September. I always enjoyed the "back-to-school" excitement when I was a child and when I was raising my children, but that excitement was short-lived by all the hubbub this is back-to-school.

September signals the beginning of our busy season and this year it has been that, busy. Which, of course is grand for business but the affect on me has been less than grand. Though, all-in-all I'd rather be busy than not. And certainly, I pleased to 1. have the job(s)--oh, yeah, serving in the same capacity for the owner's new business--hence the need for an assistant (or two) the second, though, I haven't gotten to know very well because the owner has her assigned elsewhere (for now). hmpf. 2. that business appears to be re-bounding, the past couple of years were pretty brutal. We must exceed the budget these next two months or I fear at least one head will roll.

Still, even in the ho-hum that has been this September so far, I have found moments or even pockets of glee. The new show "Glee" contributed to some of the moments. Football got started, and that always provide gleeful moments, especially since I play in a Fantasy League. I haven't been very successful these past few years but it does add a little extra to the season. There are other teevee related moments, but what led me to this post was my commute the other day.

Normally, I'm in my own world. Sometimes, not always, ip*d shuffle providing my listening pleasure and a book providing enough of a distraction the keep me from obsessing about the coughing, sneezing, yelling, pushing, pulling and otherwise glee that is commuting on public transpo.

Though, trying to block out the world around me, I don't forget that there is a world around me. I remain alert, at the ready to deal with . . . whatever. Urban Living 101. Back to the story, the other day I'm reading, looking up now and again to assess the surroundings and across the aisle is a woman who looked to be in her twenties. Nothing spectacular, good or otherwise about her appearance. Average, I'd say. I heard her pop the top of a can and saw her take a drink. I nice loooooong gulp of something. I couldn't tell immediately what she was drinking, but when it hit her system moments later her eyes bugged out as if someone at popped her in the back and yelled, "BOO!!" at the same time. The eye (and subsequently, head) movement moved her hand and I saw that she was drinking an energy drink. I thought, wow, that stuff must really pack a punch.

The moment passed and some stops later I hear another pop and whoa, she was drinking another one. Downed it in just a few gulps. Yeah, the eye thing again. For the rest of the day I had moments of glee imagining 1. where she was going 2. what she did 3. whether she was in the company of others while she did whatever she did, wherever..

And oh, to have been a fly on the wall she must have been bouncing off the entire rest of the morning, if not the entire day.

Energy drinks, yay or nay? And...their tag, Feel Real? Energy drink for real people. What is that about?

And one more thing, while today is of course, thatday, it is also the day that a friend celebrates a birthday and to her I say, happy happy joy joy!! Here's a royal celebration!!

Silent Battle*

Sixteen days. Jasmine had been in residence for 16 days and that meant sixteen days remained. The hash marks on her arms were clear, sixteen days. What wasn’t clear was if this self-imposed quarantine would solve her problem, settle her mind. Jasmine needed to be in the room of secrets. She needed to know if giving herself over to the room would divest her of her own secret.

Jasmine was prepared for the necessary silence. She knew secrets lived in silence and that there was power in the silence. For the next sixteen days Jasmine would remain devoid of tone, yet she would speak or rather leak her secrets onto the floorboards, hoping they’d forge a path to the walls. Jasmine was hoping that by the end of the next sixteen days, she’d be able to leave this room with her secret happy to be cavorting with all the others left by previous occupants.

While Jasmine was prepared for and oddly comforted by the silence, she was not comforted by the cold. The cold was oppressive. And though her partner warned, “Secrets are silent as you know, but they are also cold. Don’t expect to be warm.” Jasmine was still taken aback even though she’d heeded her partners words and prepared accordingly. The extra blankets and sweaters did little to combat the stout chill. Jasmine had to reach deep down where the extra reserve of determination lived. Jasmine’s determination, dubbed warrior was vigilant as well as valiant against the burdensome cold.

It was day sixteen and each moment crystallizing the truth; Jasmine was in for the fight of her life, one she was determined to win.

The hash marks were clear, sixteen days spent with sixteen remaining. Jasmine cleaved to the belief that these days would end the haunting of those frightful days of last year. Jasmine trusted that her efforts during these days would allow her to leave the silence of her secret far, far behind.

Bring on the noise

*weekend wordsmiths writing prompt.