just keep swimming...

 

 

for those who have been following along, I'll start out by saying that I did finally finish cleaning the bathroom, the switch plates, both sides of the front door of my apartment, and rearranged my suitcases so my clothes and other various items are now more accessible.  it's definitely time to do more laundry and I'm not looking forward to it, but I bought a drying rack so at least I can forgo the dryer this time, though that was the least expensive part of the process.  so it seems I'm beginning to find my rhythm.  

 

navigating the coin operated laundry was a challenge, but I figured it out eventually.

 

the next steps have been to make sure I'm drinking enough water (not quite), and eating healthy meals at reasonable times (getting there).  because I'm more settled I've been better able to eat something resembling breakfast before I leave in the mornings, and prepare lunches in advance to bring with me to ulpan (Hebrew school), so I'm not starving by the end of class, and have the energy I need to walk home in the afternoons.  taking the bus in the morning gives me more time to get ready as well, because it's a longer walk than it used to be, and I appreciate arriving clean and fresh as opposed to sweaty and scattershot.  walking home in the afternoon is fine for now, though I suspect I will enjoy it less as the season progresses and temperatures rise.  I'll just have to see how it goes. 

for whatever reason - maybe the heat, maybe just because it was time - I laced up my running shoes and started the Couch to 5k program again.  I found the program during our covid lockdown and completed it twice so far, and even started the C210k program, but I fell off of my running game after my mother died, and haven't been able to be consistent about exercise for the four years since then.  I guess walking back and forth to ulpan was what got me started, and since Ive been settling in to my apartment I've felt safe enough to just...get ready, head out the door, and go.  it's funny, there's a saying that goes "start your run before you're fully awake so by the time your brain figures out what you're doing, you're already a mile down the road", and I guess my first day back was kind of like that.  I'm fat, so it's embarrassing to think about being seen flopping down the road at my snail's pace, in an outfit I wouldn't want to be caught dead in, which is just leggings and a tank top.  it's a pretty standard outfit for a lot of people, but because I'm so overweight, I prefer to try and camouflage my big belly as best I can.

 

 

when I crossed paths with another human, I thought, "omg, what must I look like?!"  while also realizing what a blessing it is that I don't have a full length mirror, because if I did, I probably never would have been able to get out the door.  that's been one of my 'city living' lessons - learning that everyone is just out there living their lives without regard for how they come across, and to not be so self-conscious about myself because no one is even paying me any mind.  it's quite different from the small town living I've done for decades where everyone is watching your every move so they can all gossip to each other about you, and people think they know who you are without ever once having said hello.  I even caught myself trying to catch glimpses of myself in store windows as I passed so I could judge my own hideousness, and thankfully I wasn't really able to.

 

 

because I've gone running three times this week I decided to check my blood sugar, which was still higher than it should be, even though it's lower than it's been in a long time.  before I could prematurely credit it to the exercise, I remembered that I started doubling up on my medication (as per the suggestion of my American doctor before I made Aliyah) after the disastrous appointment I had with an Israeli doctor who wanted to put me on several medications including injectable insulin, which I flatly refused.  I got it under control by reigning in my diet and committing to exercise once before, and I'm convinced I can do it again, so...I'm doing it as best I can.

another important component of living in my own place is figuring out how the recycling works here in Israel.  I don't read or understand the language well enough to figure out which things go where, even with taking pictures of the public bins and running them through google translate.  and I HATE throwing out recycling, but I've been doing it simply because I didn't have a place to store it up while I figured it out.  now I do.  I looked up which colored bins are for what items, and have been diligently separating them into their respective categories via colored 'sackeet' (plastic shopping bags).  and since I've been running, I now know where the various bins are located! 

 

this is a rando internet pic - in my neighborhood we have orange, purple, blue, a bin for cardboard, and either green or grey garbage bins.

I think I may have been offered a job, though I haven't been able to get back in touch with the lady I spoke to about it.  she did give me the address of the office where I would need to go to fill out the required paperwork, so I'm planning to just show up there on the next business day (tomorrow) and see how that goes.  and now that I have a good routine with ulpan, cooking and eating, and running, I'm curious to see if I can keep it up while adding a job to the mix.  next on my to-do list is to go back to the doctor and see if we can't straighten out my health care, because I will eventually need more medication (until I don't, which is my diet & exercise goal).  I'm also going to have to start thinking about what I want to use for shampoo, conditioner, and moisturizer when the stuff I brought from the US runs out, without resorting to shopping on amazon, because I prefer to support local businesses by shopping in my community over making a billionaire richer.  and the number of people who come to Israel expecting it to be 'little America' and have all their favorite American things instead of doing and being Israeli pisses me All the way off.  

there was an email from the shipping company informing me that my belongings have arrived at the port, that it will take a few days to clear customs, and a few more days to fill a truck with 'partial shipments' to be delivered to their final destinations.  so I'm hoping to be reunited with my beloved items in about two weeks, and I'm doing my best to be patient.  it's going to be jam-packed in here when it does arrive, and I don't know how I'm going to arrange it all...it's definitely going to be a process.  I'm looking forward to having my big soup pot, but how will I make soup in it with the little electric cooker?  and now that I'm cooking meals and running again, I've been logging my meals on MyNetDiary even though I have no real sense of how many grams of anything I'm cooking or eating, so I regret not sending my food scale, but there were valid reasons to leave it behind.  "I'll get one in Israel" is what I said about a lot of things, not thinking about how much money I invested in building a household over the past 30 years, or how much it would cost to build another one.

 

I'm cooking on an old, beat up one of these.

 

it's definitely not all wine and roses - the apartment is drafty which is fine this time of year, but how will that work in the colder season?  there's a stink pipe in the bathroom for some reason, and I don't even know what to say about that.  the neighbors are not mindful of how much of their mess ends up on my side of the meerpeset, or how much their dog barks when they're out (going on three hours, now).  and as happy as I am with being by myself, will I ever make some friends to hang out with?  I feel like I've been here forever, but it's only been three months, and there's still a lot to learn and do before I'm 100% settled, and speaking more Hebrew than English.  I'm certainly looking forward to that day, and maybe once I have a better handle on the language I'll be able to be more social with people, who knows?  I really am happy to stay at home by myself, but it might also be nice to catch a movie and get a meal with someone my own age, too.  here's to hoping!

Making Aliyah

I feel incredibly blessed to have made Aliyah on my Zayde's and my 'shared' birthdays - my flight from the States was the day after my birthday, and I landed in Israel on my Zayde's birthday.  there are so many signs pointing to this being the right thing for me to be doing, even though it's been HARD.  harder than I thought?  I can't say...I don't know if I thought about how hard it may or not have been before I left, just that going was the right thing for me to do.  and even though it's been HARD, I'm still so grateful to be here in Israel, and have no intentions of doing anything but staying, and figuring out how to make it work the way I usually do, and looking back at these HARD times from a place of gratitude and plenty.

 

 

Having booked an Airbnb for a full month, thinking I would find a job and an apartment quickly, I spent most of that time running around between ministry offices, the bank, the Hebrew school, the bus station, the health service, and various mini-markets and grocery stores.  there was a minute when I thought I had found a place, on my last day in the Airbnb, but after stringing me along for a week while adding more and more conditions to my renting the place, the landlady finally refused me.  first she wanted a co-signer, then a co-signer in Israel, then a bank guarantee, then bank records from all my bank accounts both here and in the States...it just got to be too much, and at that point, I was a week past my check out date, so had to give my hostess whatever money I had, and leave.  if I had a job, the mean landlady might have rented to me, but so far, no luck there.  I may find that to be the case with all the landlords here, but I still have to try, right?

 

 

I am proud of myself for managing to figure out the buses (in this city, anyway!), which may not seem like a big thing, but I've been living in mostly rural areas for decades, which pretty much requires a car to get around.  I sold the car about a week or so before I left, and it was tough getting where I needed to go for that time, even with my son helping me out with rides, and lending me his car when he could.  the car was also sentimental to me, as it was my mother's car that she gave to us right around the time kid became a teenager, and the one he learned to drive in.  I also lived in it for about 5 months when we first moved to Vermont, and I was having trouble finding an apartment due to the insanity of the housing crisis happening there.  I think it's fair to say the car saved my life in that particular instance, as the late Summer turned to Autumn, and I still didn't have a place by the time the snow began to fly, and the temperatures plummeted.  but that's a different story, and you can read about it in another post.

the state-sponsored Hebrew school is no joke, with classes running 5 hours a day, 5 days a week, for 5 months, and I was up for it.  I'm good at school, and even though I could only write in print like a kindergarten kid and started a week behind the rest of the class, I caught right up no problem.  I mean, my script still looks like a child's handwriting, but that will obviously improve with practice.  the issue I had there was this one highly disruptive dude in my class who was making me nuts - I know, I know, I'm an adult and should be passed such judgements or letting a thing like that bother me, but he was just so...predatory that it was making me angry that no one seemed to care, and even indulged his behaviors.  so after I made several complaints about him, I just decided to switch classes.  the new class only meets two days a week, and three days a week every other week.  at first I was bothered by that, thinking I wasn't learning fast enough going full-time, but it's also better because now I have more time for the other things I need to be doing, too.  there's a part of me that tells me I should and can be doing more, and there's another part of me that's saying what I'm doing is A Lot, and it's ok to slow down and take it in smaller chunks.  it all leads to the same place eventually.

 

 

the health service has proven to be a real challenge for me, and it took several visits to not really get anything that I needed done there.  well, that's not entirely true - my cousin did help me set up a follow-up appointment with the doctor after I couldn't make it to the one I had, and failed to navigate the phone menu in order to reschedule it, as well as scheduled an appointment with the dental hygienist after I had made one with the dentist who wasn't who I needed to see (things work a bit differently here).  the doctor's recommendations in response to the results of my bloodwork (and other tests) were somewhat disturbing, with the doctor not only insisting I double my dose of diabetes medication, but that I begin to take insulin as well, along with ordering an ultrasound of my liver and kidneys, a retinopathy, seeing an endocrinologist, a dietician, and throwing in a mammogram to boot.  it was all too much for me, so I did none of that...well, I did double the dose of the diabetes meds I already have, just because it seemed easy enough, though it has been rough on my stomach, which is already having a hard time adjusting to the poor diet I've had since arriving.  then the dental hygienist wouldn't clean my teeth because I'm diabetic, and she needed a note from the doctor, so I walked out of there, too.  maybe I'll get back to it when I'm better adjusted, but I'm struggling to get by at the moment, so I can't handle the additional stress right now.

my diet has been terrible since I've been here, and at this point, I'm subsisting mainly on cottage cheese, hummus, and crackers, with an occasional slice of pizza or falafel thrown in when I can afford it.  the kitchen at the Airbnb was outside, which isn't the worst thing in the world, even when it's windy, rainy, and cold, which it has been often enough to make it problematic for me.  it was also shared with the other guests in the house, so I couldn't always cook when I had the time to, and I didn't necessarily want to eat outdoors, either, especially when the weather was bad.  I wasn't able to plan meals that well until I found a decent grocery store, and even then, by the time I had figured out a routine for myself, my time there was up.  sad to say, I've ended up at McDonald's twice so far just for the simple pleasure of eating indoors on a cold, rainy day.  most of the pizza and falafel places have outdoor seating here, and even the slightly more upscale Italian place my cousin took me to did as well, though it was enclosed with glass so at least the customers were somewhat protected from the elements.  when I left the Airbnb for lack of funds, I ended up at the 'guest house' I'm currently writing from (for one more night) that only has a shared microwave and electric hot plate, both of which gave me large shocks when I touched them, so now I'm afraid of them both.  and the hot plate seems to come and go, as in sometimes it's there, and sometimes it's not, so even if I were brave enough to try and touch it again, I can't count on it being there when and if I want it, anyway.  but in doing my best to adjust to my surrounding, I tried to buy some microwave meals and didn't find any, though I did buy some frozen 'nuggets' - which turned out not to be chicken, but whatever 'plant based' ingredients they were composed of, and who cares, I ate them anyway - and some microwave popcorn.  ridiculous.  

 

if I could read Hebrew better, it would probably have been obvious that these weren't made with actual chicken, though when you're hungry, it hardly matters.

 

on top of that, I'm incredibly dehydrated, and my skin looks like crap.  I know it seems like self-centered whining, especially when there are currently still hostages being held, tortured, and starved by the enemies of my people, and it is.  but how am I helping them by not taking care of myself?  we 'can't pour from an empty cup', and when I feel like crap I'm no good to anyone including me.  four days ago, when I left the Airbnb, I called a bunch of contacts and organizations to tell them I only had enough money to book myself into the cheapest place I could find, and they offered to help me out by paying for a few more days, which means I'm out of here tomorrow morning.  I have no idea where I'm going yet, but I did meet with some social service type people, and when they asked me what I did for work in the US, I told them I did their jobs - working with homeless people, and the various issues that usually accompany that condition.  we'll see how far it gets me in terms of securing a paying job, and a paying job will definitely help with renting an apartment.  and an apartment would give me the ability to radically increase my water intake, and cook myself some healthy and hearty meals, which would in turn help to regulate my digestive issues.  one step at a time.

while I've been here at the 'guest house', I did manage to do the laundry that had piled up at the Airbnb, so at least the clothes in my suitcases are clean and neatly repacked, and I also got a (cold) shower this morning, which helped fix my head a bit.  also, the Airbnb was freezing cold, and the room I'm currently in has a heater, so I've been warm for the first time since I got here without having a hot flash.  I spoke with two people this morning who may have employment for me - one at the welfare department who had a decent suggestion and will get back to me after consulting with her supervisor, and another who has 6 hours a week for me at minimum wage helping someone out after their surgery.  it's not much, but it's something.  I also have a zoom meeting this afternoon with some folks from the organization that helped me get here, so hopefully they'll have some further helpful ideas, including where to stay tomorrow, and into the future.

 

 

when I get so down in the dumps like this, I tend to disconnect from the world - wanting to be alone, not talk to anyone, and wallow in the depression.  so I deactivated my Facebook account because most of the 'real' people I knew deleted me on or around October 7th, because how dare Israelis fight back when we're attacked by murderous terrorists, or during the following year and half (3000 years) of my shouting into the void about it with the only result being more disconnections.  it really kills you inside to face so much hatred, and seeing nothing but that hatred reflected back to me by the Jews/Israelis/Zionists I am connected to on social media is almost as bad as the hate we face from the rest of the world.  it's still beautiful, here.  there are still gorgeous things to see and appreciate every day.  there are plenty of positive interactions I have on the street every day, and I'm still So Glad I made the decision to come, even when it's hard.  I'll be ok eventually.  I always am.  and I'll figure out how to be of use here, because that's what I do.  I believe I'm on the right path, in the right place, at the right time.  I miss my son like crazy, and I continue to pray to my 'network' for his divine protection because that's the most important thing in the world to me - that he succeeds in walking his own path, and that I get to take some small part in it.  other than that, I'm here for my people, forever, in whatever ways they'll have me.  may I find that way soon.

💙

Utter Nonsense Unworthy of Being Read

in accordance with my own parameters, I like to post here once a week as my own personal 'use it or lose it' boot camp.  I only posted twice this past month, and while I'm quick to forgive myself (because it's not like anyone really cares about this blog other than me), I'm still annoyed about it for it's place in the web of other tasks I didn't manage to complete in a timely fashion recently.  I have four drafts that I've been working on for varying amounts of time, according to their relative emotional difficulty to get out on the page, and my own laziness/busyness.  so in the interest of 'getting something out there', I'm going to whip up a list of:

"Things I Think About While Awake at 3am"

1. why am I awake at 3am?
2. should I go to bed, or will I just lie there with my eyes open, staring at the ceiling, thinking about everything I could be doing instead?
3. how long will the logs in the woodstove burn?
4. what music should I listen to?
5. what is there to eat?
6. can I just keep snacking on candy all night/morning?
7. there are dishes in the sink that need doing.
8. there is laundry that needs doing.
9. my bathroom needs to be cleaned.
10. I need to sign up for the parent-teacher conferences tomorrow.
11. I need to pay all the overdue bills...somehow.
12. I shouldn't eat any more candy.
13. where's the cat?
14. why didn't I know about that gig that cool band I like played?
15. I hope everyone got home from Trick-or-Treating safely.
16. the kitchen floor needs sweeping.
17. I just ate another piece of candy.
18. why do I have so much stuff?
19. why do I censor myself?
20. will I ever love again?
21. does it matter, as long as I get to have sex?
22. this isn't music I'm listening to - it's annoying noise.
23. when will I finish that 3k-word story?
24. my desk is a mess - I really need to spend a few hours doing paperwork.
25. I don't think I'm going to be under 200 lbs. for my 50th birthday.
26. I could be under 200 lbs. for my 50th birthday if I work really hard at it.
27. why can't I think of myself as attractive if I'm fat?
28. there are lots of beautiful fat people.
29. why are all the people who contact me on dating websites sub-par (for me)?
30. does that mean I'm sub-par?
31. how do I up my game?
32. why do I want to 'up my game'?  I don't have any 'game'.
33. what is going on in that woodstove?
34. I ate more candy...
35. look at all the stuff I have to Read!
36. it's November - time to batten down the hatches.
37. should I get the cat a kitten?
38. can I stop the horribly named restaurant from naming itself so horribly?
39. will people help support me in getting them to cease and desist?
40. 'when you're a Jet, you're a Jet all the way, from your first cigarette to your last dying day'!
41. am I pretty?
42. can someone please Tell me that I'm pretty?
43. 42
44. 27
45. 18
46. hut, hut, HIKE!
47. the car is going to need new tires...
48. I feel disconnected from my spiritual community.
49. I often feel disconnected from my community.
50. gotta pee!

I think that might be enough to knock me out for the next three hours before my alarm goes off, but we'll see...we'll see...

How do you get to Carnegie Hall..?

I said I was going to do this more often.  I said I was going to make a commitment to myself to post about once a week.  I said I needed to remember how to write.  remember?  remember when it was like breathing?  remember being at parties, and not having anything to say to the beer-swilling guests?  remember trying to find a pen in that house?  remember wondering how people didn't even have pens or paper?  remember tucking into a corner at the top of the stairs and making poems "on the paper bags we brought the alcohol home in"?  remember D asking to hear that poem, staring blankly for a minute, then commenting "well, at least you can still use the bag."  bitch.  I wonder if She ever wrote anything worth reading...or anything at all.  like that mama yesterday who said, "I never made any money when I used to write."  like writing is something people pick up and put down, like it's a hobby, or a whim.  well, it is to some, but to others...but to me...  maybe that mama wasn't very good at it.  maybe because she thought she'd get paid well.  maybe she was romantic or something, I don't know.  whatever she is (she's a pretty right on lady), she isn't a writer.  not like me (unemployed and unpaid?  my inner critic sneers).

Inner Critic by Ana Bettencourt Tirolese

have I lost my muse?  did I ever have one?  was it youthful idealism, or a 'fire in the belly' to express my longings and desires?  was it using my artistic expression to categorize my trauma and figure out a way to heal?  remember how it just came right out of me, unbidden and undeniable, how it ached to Not get it out?  obviously, I'm talking to myself, here, the 'masses' that aren't reading any of this have no knowledge of the volumes I've written in the past, the dusty chapbooks sitting on my shelf, unread, ignored, unpublished, other than a few sloppily made artist books shared with the wrong people for the right reasons.  remember fingers flying across the typewriter (Yes, Typewriter) so fast I could barely keep up?  remember the typewriter, also collecting dust in my bedroom closet?  god, how I love that machine...

this is a stock image of the actual machine I own - isn't it gorgeous?

I read the drivel people turn out and call writing.  it's awful.  yes, I'm talking to You, now.  I love you, dear person, but your writing sucks.  it's awkward and blocky, lacks imagination, and your editor should be ashamed of themselves.  and you, less-cared-about person, your writing is Way too wordy, says nothing, is historically inaccurate, and frankly boring.  you, valued acquaintance, I must admit to not having read anything you've written in awhile...have you written anything lately?  ugh...dear soul who I care for, your writing is...ugh...I can't even say.  oh, but there IS You dear heart, whose writing fills me with delicate images I want to touch, but am afraid to shatter - gorgeous feelings of connection that take me away...  and you, new friend, your writing reminds me that I used to write...I used to...the way you do.  in some way, you all inspire me (and Keep Writing!).  to what, I wonder?  post on my irrelevant blog 'at least once a week' to keep the face-shnook insights engaged?  to keep myself 'in practice'?  to force my own hand to live inside the muscle-memory of fingers flying across the keyboard, the unsatisfying thumpity of the computer as compared to the clackity of my old typing beast?

I have spent around 15 years wrapped up inside this concept of being the kind of mom I needed to try and be for my offspring - from the first moment I knew I was pregnant, to hustling for money/places to live/food during my pregnancy, to working at home so I could stay near my baby, to putting him in daycare so I could work outside the home, to having him get off the school bus at my job so he could work that last hour with me.  then the next job, which had me rushing back and forth to work and home between putting him on the bus in the morning, and getting him off the bus in the afternoon.  then came the homeschool years, when I worked from home again; and when I didn't, bringing him to work with me.  when he went back to public school, there came the day when I found myself unemployed (again), and I sat on my couch staring at the wall, wondering what to do with the freedom of hours stretching out before me - and remembered that I used to Be Someone, and that someone Did Things.  what were they again?  ah, yes...I used to write, and make jewelry, and paint, sew, crochet, knit, weave, sculpt, play music, sketch, make pottery, shoot and develop film...but more than anything, I used to write.  All The Time.

by Henriette Brown

my teen barely needs me anymore - and soon, when he starts driving, he'll need me even less, if at all (other than a thing to rebel against in his quest towards autonomy).  and who will I be then?  still his mom, sure, but what else?  one of the middle-aged ladies working at the grocery store, earning the same minimum wage for the same job I had when I was in high school?  so what all have I managed to accomplish since then?  what social standing have my achievements lent me?  what form of wealth?  is it for money that we artists sell our souls?  is it for status?  I guess the successful ones do...  how many times have I heard "you could write a better story than that" about some multi-million dollar book series that got made into several multi-million dollar movies?  more than once.  more than twice, actually.  I need to believe that I can still succeed at my dream, no matter how many times it's been put on hold, or set aside for the 'here and now' of having to survive in this world while raising a kid as a single mom who can't succeed in the mainstream work force.  I truly suck at 'having a job' because I hate pretty much everything I've ever had to do to earn money, other than selling my own crafts at markets.

but where did my creative flow drain off to?  it's supposedly a bottomless well, that one only needs to feed in order to be filled.  so I tell myself I have to post to the blog once a week to get that flow going.  I tell myself I need to send cards out to the friends I owe letters.  I tell myself to get off my ass and Move My Body to jump-start the energy I need to tackle the task at hand, which should be easier now that it's almost Spring in the northeastern 'united states'.  I need to nourish myself, physically, mentally, spiritually, and figuratively (artistically).  I read every day.  I watch movies frequently.  I'm working on getting back in the habit of meditation and ritual.  I need to remember to feed myself food, because single people often don't care to cook for 'just themselves', and I graze through the kitchen, trying not to get any dishes dirty to avoid having to wash them.  I guess I need to set up a schedule for myself, the same way I did for the kid, to 'raise myself right', now that I've mostly done a good job with him - though he still needs to be reminded to brush his teeth twice a day, every day (guilty secret:  so do I), along with other teenage imperatives.

long before I read Julia Cameron's 'The Artist's Way', and learned her concept of 'filling the well', I referred to myself in my writing as a vessel created by the Universe to be filled with its desire to express itself through me.

there are at least a million motivational tools available to everyone with an internet connection and a computer, but I don't to use them, because I'm way too cynical to have sunshine blown up my ass by anyone other than myself, and I'm more into the 'tough love' approach, anyway.  the teen and I joke that my skill-set is more akin to what we call the 'Cotton Hill School of Parenting', in reference to a character from the animated sitcom 'King of the Hill'.  if you're familiar with the show, let me remind you - I said JOKE.  Cotton is a despicable character, though he is funny in the context of the story...but I digress.  motivation is 'the reason one has for acting or behaving in a particular way', or one's general willingness to do something.  OR - like I stated earlier, when the ache of NOT getting it out hurts more than keeping it in.  and motivating oneself will produce momentum.  science shows that setting schedules and building rituals around tasks are one way to make getting started and keeping going easier, so my coming to the page 'once a week' (at least) is a very small step towards reminding myself to do what I love.  isn't it weird that I need reminding?  I chalk it up to life being about cycles - I've been so wrapped up in my day-to-day, I didn't realize I let my 'raison d'etre' got lost under the piles of monotony.

cook, clean, laundry, dishes, trash/compost/recycle, shop, drive to activities, work, socialize, help others, keep pets, pay bills, bathe, handle emergencies, eat, raise a human (which comes with it's own sub-set of activities), celebrate holidays...sleep?

ah, well...it's no wonder with all I've got to do that something had to suffer, somewhere - too bad it was my creative outlet, and being able to take part in a romantic relationship!  well, back to work, then...the creative outlet part, not the relationship.  I still don't quite have the bandwidth for that.  I've gone on a few dates recently, and I wasn't really all that impressed by any of them.  but we are kind of living in the age of 'most men are trash' right now, so that part of my life can wait a bit - I need to be working on Me, and I don't have any extra energy to give to anyone that can't show up Whole when I have So much to offer (I'm really kind of fabulous, but I tend to keep it under wraps, because most people don't deserve to know, shallow gossips that they are).  so Monday is what passes for a day off in my world, and I was all set to write this post then, but I got side-lined writing cover letters and sending out resumes instead.  I did come to this page on Tuesday, but there were so many other things that needing doing (Not a day I 'take off') I wasn't able to finish it.  now it's Wednesday, and I've spent most of my morning attempting to finish this up so I can take care of my other responsibilities (hello business taxes) that got neglected yesterday.  where are my single moms at?  I know you hear me...

hope to see you here next week ~

Stacks, Pizza & Beer, Random mythological rundowns, and posturing.

     About a year ago, sitting under some of the oldest trees in town (on the library lawn), their towering crowns carried my sorrowful soul up to the sky.  I wondered what that small piece of land would look like when the buildings had crumbled and fallen, when the trees were back in charge, when the forest reclaimed the space from us.  Would it feel holy to what came to tread there after?  The soil, worn so smooth, barely there for the deep roots I imagined, spreading out beneath the sugar maples; countless footsteps having drummed out the ancestors' rhythms, passages in time.  The land there feels sacred to me, in contrast to the land of the apartment complex I had just moved from, which I feel blessed to no longer live on - the fresh wound of the Earth reaching up and choking us all with its newness, like a ragged scar picked at, and not allowed to heal.  With the melancholy of being between homes, it was from the library lawn that I pried two stones up out of the mossy soil, working my magic through the trees rooted so deep to the land in which I was trying to belong - how long had those two stones lay beneath that tree?  Did I feel guilty?  I filled the holes with different rocks before I carried the old stones away, one for me, two stacked for the boy (leaving room for him to grow).  It put me in mind of how 'stacks' make me feel safe, be they of the library, or of stone.
     For some reason, it made me think "I'll be a traditional Romni for Halloween" to let them see what it really looks like, when it's pulled off by one of our own, and to give them a taste of what the stereotyping looks and feels like.  The flowered skirt, big earrings, diklo and braids, put on my bangles and beads, thick black eyeliner, and show them what it means - I'd offer to read fortunes, even bring my crystal ball...say things like "you know, Romani women have no closer connection to the divine than those fortune-tellers from other cultures, right?"  Or "I predict you'll say something bigoted and insulting in the next five minutes."  Do it right there on the library lawn, attract a crowd, and hit them with some truth.  Pop said that blood had to pool somewhere...by resisting the stereotype, am I causing myself more harm than good?  Muffling the Me that wants to sing and dance, get lost in duende?  I get so tired of having to prove that I'm something other than what they all think we are, because while some of us are doctors, lawyers, educators, business people, many of our talents truly do manifest in song, dance, fortune- and story-telling, and we shouldn't have to be ashamed to express that - to put it in my pipe and smoke it, so to speak.  I like to say I come from the 'wrong' kind of Roma, just to point out that their are the 'right' kind, as well.
     So that side of my family were thieves and scammers, that doesn't define us all.  So what if I can pick a lock and rob you blind while you're out getting groceries?  So what if my grandfather's brother did those awful things to my cousin...well, no, that's Never ok...but it has nothing to do with our ethnicity.  There are good and bad of all types of people, and we are no exception.  Pops himself was the best kind of man, in spite of (or because of) his horrible upbringing.  I met that nice lady who loves our culture because it was Us who forged her family's papers and got them out of Eastern Europe before all that awful history went down. Good for us.  I haven't forged anything since I didn't want those progress reports in Junior High to reach my parents, but if something Truly Awful goes down in this country, and it would help save a life?  You can bet I'd do it again.  Honestly, there are so many instances where 'the better angels of my nature' remind me that I am a law-abiding citizen, and to perform a task it crosses my mind to contemplate would not only constitute a crime, but would jeopardize my standing in my community as an upright and trustworthy individual, and undo the good work I put in upholding that notion.  Is there a way to use my less-than-honest powers for good?  I hope to find out one day.
     The boy and I didn't dress up for what I like to call Samhain that year - last year - as that was the night of our transition from 'crappy apartment on scarred land' to 'acquaintance's small house in a more rural area, much more to our liking', where we stayed for a month.  Then we were homeless for another month before finding our current abode, which is working out just fine.  Sometime after moving in, I wrote "At this moment, everything is alright.  Is that what I need to come to the page, now?  Is it that putting myself out there is more dangerous than it used to be?  Are the things I type and choose to share dangerous?  Define 'dangerous'...what am I afraid of?  That's not the point.  The point was that everything is all right.  The rent is paid, the bills are paid, there is food.  There is clothing, even though it is all in a gigantic laundry pile that I dread having to take the day out of my life to haul down to the laundromat, spend the 2 hours washing and semi-drying, then hanging it all around the house for two days until it dries completely, folding it, and putting it away.  At least the boy is old enough to help, now, and pretty much handles his own.  What a nothing to complain about.  So, on the base level, things are good.  I am in a comfortable place.  Today.  What's next on Maslow's Pyramid?"
     The next draft was apparently rather similar:

It's not that I can't write, it's that I don't.  I could sit down in front of this machine and kick out a jam at any time, it's that I don't make the time to do it.  To put it on the calendar, to compartmentalize the creativity...  We got pretty creative yesterday, with all the art supplies out.  I'm glad - I've been wanting to shift that energy around for a long time, but it took 11 months (already?) to finally settle in enough to get with the proper organizing for this space.  There's still lots of work to do, but the process is 87% complete, at this point, so maybe there isn't 'lots' to do, but more at the fine tuning of making it all pretty, now.

     So, I 'kicked out a jam' and wrote:

There was a certain nostalgia in the air last night...it was a warm, coastal kind of evening, Floridian to me.  In November!  And the radio was just ON, which isn't the norm.  Made me want to run away with my own circus.  The night where you call that old friend not to say anything, but to just have the line open between you, but because there is such a thing as propriety, you try and fill the space with words.  Why can't we be quiet together?

     Once again, I don't know quite what I'm going for, here, I'm just throwing all my thoughts and feeling out into the ether, working through my own issues, and catching up with a bunch of blog drafts that I never finished, attempting to weave the disparate ends of my life together as a means.  Do I add a tip jar to the blog as an attempt to pull in more scratch?  Do I 'monetize' it, and clutter it all up with ads?  Would that really generate any income?  Do enough people enjoy what I slap down 'on the page' for it to make a difference?  Could I figure out how to make it so?  I've never done anything because it made others happy - I've lived my life singularly for my own enjoyment and personal, spiritual fulfillment...until I had a kid, then I added his relative joy to my equation, because, really, that's what parenting is about, if you do it with any level of competence.  He's like my own personal Jesus (with apologies to Depeche Mode and Jesus freaks) - taking into account how I was homeless while I was pregnant, and all the doors of the 'inns' I knocked on were full, and wouldn't let me in.  Since his birth, he has saved me, time and time again.
     During my healthy yet impoverished pregnancy, I developed the theory that the Jesus mythology was supposed to make Marys of us all - suffering in holy silence while the war mongers murdered our sons by the thousands in their bloody, useless battles against themselves.  Well, I wasn't going to buy into it.  No one was/is going to hang My son on any cross for such nonsense.  We are warriors for peace and harmony, love and community.  Highly vibratory individuals who choose coming together in understanding as a way to elevate us All.  Are you with me?  Feminism is (finally) back on the rise, and the energies are balancing.  'God', in my experience, is gender-less.  An all-encompassing energy that swirls around us, which can be moved with concentrated will towards a particular goal.  There are Goddesses walking around in my Earthly domain, and I have seen them in their bodies of flesh - you have too, if you are open to their energy, women who stop you in your tracks the way they carry themselves, the power of their being radiating out from them in a powerful enough miasma to knock you off your feet with a longing to curl up in their laps, and return to that place where we all felt completely and securely nourished, protected, and loved.  And where are my Gods?  Hunter S. Thompson is dead, and he was the closest anyone came to that title role for me, other than my dad.  I can only hope they are being raised by women like me, and the aforementioned Goddesses.
     We need these children of balance in order for things to get better for us in a whole, global way.  As a well-educated poor person in the Northeastern United States, I can tell you how tiring it gets to sit in a roomful of moms who have the privilege to talk about the tens of thousands of dollars they have to spend on their next car while my old clunker is sitting out in the lot with a smashed windshield and the front end about to fall out from under it.  Or how locally grown organic food is the better choice all around, when I'm living on low-grade pasta, canned food, and half-rotten veggies (if I'm lucky) from the food pantry.  These are lovely people, and I like them all.  Neither am I judging by saying these things, I'm merely putting the situation in context, to show the disparity between our situations, and how it feels to sit among them and not be one of them, even though we are similarly engaged in bucking 'the system'. So they married well, or came from money, or worked hard, saved their pennies, and invested wisely.  So some of them had a better support system, or a more advanced skill-set.  It just strikes me that I end up in these situations where I am rubbing elbows with folks who are obviously so far out of my league, and that I'm trying to give my kid the same advantages as theirs.  Sometimes it works, sometimes not.  No matter how much of an outsider I am - or maybe because of it - I nevertheless insist that the world's problems will be solved by taking a wider viewpoint that includes All members of a community/society, because the next great thinker may just be some kid who had to figure out how to rig some duct-tape fix to keep his single mom's fridge running, or his shoes from giving up the ghost, or some other small crisis that ends up having larger, global significance.  Can you feel me on this?
     That's enough random rambling for now, and I have two other pieces I was going to work on to share, as well as another piece I wrote for a different venue.  Let me know in the comments which you would like to see first:  a continuation of the comical werewolf story I was riffing on for The Sunday Whirl, or a more personal essay concerning my experience with child protective services?  Thanks for following along, and I hope you enjoyed the ride.  Also, feel free to share your thoughts on either monetizing or adding a tip jar to this blog, or both.  Which would you prefer?  I wouldn't prefer either, personally, but a girl's gotta make a living if she wants to fix her car so she can get her kid to all those fancy classes that will give him a chance to compete with those who have all the advantages with which he wasn't lucky enough to be born.  Selah ~

ABC Wednesday - L is for...

Legos

Labyrinth

Laundercenter 18

and so it goes...

You won't believe how long it took me to get here.  to the page, I mean.  to sit down in front of the computer and write.  there's so much in my mind, everyday, like I'm composing in my head for my thesis, but it sounds more like a blog post, which is fine, as long as it sounds like something and makes it from my head into some form of viable communication that can be shared and quantified.  it seems like a lot of stuff just happened at once, but actually it's been over the course of two months, and what I'm feeling is the quickening of the season, as the Autumnal Equinox is right around the corner.  my seasonal panic attack goes like this:  'omg, it's Rosh Hashanna already, then Yom Kippur and Sukkot, Equinox, Samhain, Thanksgiving, Hannukah, Solstice, New Year's, my birthday, the kid's birthday, then it's Spring already..!  see what I mean?  there's really no need for all that, but it doesn't stop me from cycling between tasks too frequently to get any of them done, and sabotaging myself into self-destructive behaviors (facebook and non-academic reading being the two biggest ones).

August seriously left me in the dust, with my landlady going all postal right before I left for Vermont, and I spent most of the week I got back trying to straighten out my living situation while catching up from being away and getting started on schoolwork.  it's not solved, but it's not quite so desperate as it was at the time.  coming home from having been so supremely spoiled at Goddard by the great food they turn out during the residency was not at all helpful to the process, as I can count on one hand the amount of decent meals that've emerged from my own kitchen, since.  brain fog is real, people, and I am suffering the effects as we speak.  so, after another week of job-searching, I landed the position I had my fingers crossed for - nothing big, just another farm stand, but it's work, and I could do a lot worse (and don't tell, but one of my overlords is the guitar player for a well-known punk band, and I find it hard not to be a mumble stumble fumble fangirl around him!).  then the little one went back to school, and I've been so caught up in learning how to navigate the rocky shoals of balancing my new employment with my Master's work, and the boy's school & after schedule that I neglected to do any actual work on my Master's much past the aforementioned 'composing in my head'...well, okay, I've done more than that, but not enough to send in and call a packet.

Today I finally made it to the page during the time I set aside to get some work done (miracles!), and two things happened:  1.  I felt the gnawing stabs of hunger in my belly and the nauseous, I'm-going-to-pass-out feeling in my head from being awake for 3 hours and not having eaten yet, and 2. my new job called and asked if I could come in for a few hours this afternoon.  Damn.   Damn Damn Damn.  I'm AT THE PAGE, I'm WRITING!  sigh.  I need the money...I went in the kitchen to eat something, had 1/4 of a cantaloupe, cleaned off the counter to get some rice started for dinner, ended up staring at all the dirty dishes needing cleaning - and totally forgot what I went in there for (brain fog).  then I started the rice, and ran back to finish this post so I could get ready to go in for a few hours.  but the cantaloupe wasn't enough, and while my belly isn't rumbling, my head is still feeling like it's getting crushed in a vice, so I think I'll have to go have a slice of bread with some peanut butter on it so I don't pass out at the store.  damn it.  I shouldn't have answered the phone...but I really needed to, didn't I?

I can tell myself that I'll get back to the writing later, and I will, but I'm concerned as to how tired I'll be when I get there.  after work, picking up the kids at karate, homework while cooking and eating dinner, then bath and bed for the young one...probably around 9pm?  10?  another big sigh.  I refuse to believe that it's too much, that I can't juggle it all.  I can.  I will.  I've got to find that momentum I felt at the residency, I need to get back to the academic reading (confession:  I'm on page 830 of a book that has nothing to do with my thesis).  time-management has never really been my strong point, I'm afraid...and now the alarm is telling me my writing time is done, and I need some protein in my system to help make ready to switch gears and go get paid at the farm store...ggrrraaaahhh!  self-sabotage, or self-preservation?  I dunno.  man, I'm hungry - hope I can get a snack at work.


*update:  it is now 9:30 pm, and I managed to wrap it up and get ready in time, worked my 4 hours (no snack), got the kids and did all that just like I laid it out this morning.  then I finally came back to the page.  this page, here.  the one you're reading...and fell asleep.  so, like I said, too tired to be any good to naught but my pillow, alas.  the books are right on my bed where I left them this morning, and now I'll go put them back on my desk so I can tumble into it and try again tomorrow ~

Today is the day...

...I tell the landlord I'm only mailing him most of the rent.  Today is the day I tell my advisor where I am with my project.  Today is the day is go to the mall with my resume, paint on the smile and get a crappy job.  Today is the day I finish my degree in one last jet-burn of 'can do'.  Today is the day.  Today is the day.  Today is the day after Halloween, or Samhain, as I liked to call it, back when I was making a point - a bright, cold, clear morning, I sent the boy off to school with a hat and gloves, still stinky and unwashed from last Winter, but wearing them, nonetheless.  I'll add it to the list...

Today is another day in a series when I seem to have repeatedly written a theme, based on the timeframe of 'today'.  There's a certain mood, obviously, a particular feeling in a specific moment.  The day after.  Today.  What comes now, Titus Bird, what then?  What would happen if everyone came to me with that question?  What if a million people wanted to know what my opinion was?  I would probably run and hide, that's what.  I don't really want to blow the lid off of anything, I mostly just want to be left alone.  Today I refuse to be overwhelmed by the enormity of it all, because today is the day...

 

Year in Review II

Just a few more things to finish the list out, and then on to new endeavors...

Ah, my boy!  Could a mama be prouder?  The little bugger is just so cute and funny, and full of life and empathy, and creativity, and wonder.  What an excellent little creature I get to play slave to!  To be fair, I'm a pretty lazy slave, and he's getting to the point of being able to do most things by himself, short of cook or drive, but we're working on that...  He's done well in kindergarten, I'm pleased by his enthusiasm for learning (even though he whines about hating homework already, sheesh), and he seems to be socially active within his class.  I love all the little things he builds out of K'Nex or Lego, his awesome drawings, and the stories he's starting to write - we had a great time inking and stamping the other night, and he put together a three page story called six guitars which were flying through the sky.  I just count my blessings with him, as I try to squish him into a little ball on my lap where he hardly fits anymore (my baby!), and come to terms with his growing being.  He still hardly eats, and I worry over his health, but he seems to be growing and developing, even if he is a bit small.  He can have a nasty attitude, and speak with such disrespect it's shocking, but I am strict with him, and I can go a bit overboard myself, so I try to take it in stride and see it as a need for improvement in my own communication skills.  On the whole, I think we do pretty well with each other, but I have to say the future does look a bit scary!  I wish I had more people around and more opportunities to get him together with kids outside of school, as he's got a tendency to talk all day in class to his buddies, and not get his work done.  I think we need a more active social life.  Not sure what I'm going to do about the Summer, if I'm going to try to send him to camp or anything, but as of now, I'm not working, so...no hurry?  We'll see.

I really do need to find a job, though, I can't pay the bills by going back to college!  Unemployment isn't enough, obviously, and my child support is good for keeping a positive balance in my checkbook, which leaves my meager saving that I don't really want to start cutting into.  The whole point of my going back to school was to be able to do a bit better for myself financially, even though I have no idea how that's going to manifest itself.  It still seems completely unbelievable to me that I could make a living with my photos, or my words, or combinations thereof, but I'm beginning to remember what the possibility of that felt like, and I'm letting it lead my process.  It's really great to be going to Goddard, and tying up that loose end - and being at the residency was really fun and inspiring, and enlightening.  I just love to get all excited about stuff and make connections like that, and I hope to be able to bring some of that spirit to the community I live in, and discover where that can lead me.  Who knows, it may lead me right back to Vermont!

It's also mind-blowing to think that 'nexus' (nexus of ecstasy has been the working title for my scribblings for years) may actually see the light of day sometime this decade.  That's such a good feeling!  My only fear now is that once I get done with it, and I do think there's a good amount of work in it, that I'll be done!  Like there won't be anymore!  Ha!  Ridiculous...  I pulled four possible projects out of scrap photos I had left over from test shots and images that just didn't work, and some that just never got finished.  I have quite an archive, actually, and I feel lucky to have been smart enough to document the journey, because sometimes, I forget I was there!  I get so bogged down in laundry and dishes, and jesus have I ever once DUSTED in 2 years?  and what am I gonna do for money will the check clear in time?  that I forget to just sit
                                                                                                             and light some incense maybe
                                                                                                                                  breathe deeply
                                                                                                                                        and slowly
                                                                                                                                    remember to take
                                                                                                                                 one step at a time
                                                                                                                                   let the mind go
                                                                                                                                     and the spirit flies

behold the possibility.

Gosh, there's still so much to do!  It seems like, 'it's been a year, I should be farther along towards my goals', but also, 'look how far I've come in a year!'  I wanted to have 'nexus' all typed out in one cohesive form, and I haven't done that, but now it turns out that might not be the way to go with it, and I might be well on my way to discovering the way of it as part of my project for school.  So it all works out, still, in the end.  Not that it's by any means over, but just a beginning, in the worst, most cliched sense, I'm sorry.  Well, in any event, I'm getting back on track with what I meant to do with my life, before I let all the other dumb crap get in the way - and it was all good and fun dumb crap, and I learned alot, and I could have been doing much dumber crap, but it didn't move me ahead any further in the game, and now I have to cram at the last minute for a change.  I guess this is the part where I give myself a pep talk about how I did alright this year, but I didn't work up to my level of potential, and I want to see some more improvements in the months ahead, and then we can enjoy an unbeatable season - but I have to remain vigilant, and stick to my training schedule or all is lost before I'm even out of the gate.  What the bloody hell am I on about? 

I guess all in all, I've had worse years, and I suppose I'll be reliving some of them as I plod through the writings of yesteryear, but maybe it'll help put things in perspective.  Perhaps I'll see that I'm not so far off from my goals, that I didn't really get too far off the track, that the uncompromising dedication to writing is, in fact, going to pay off.  I see that I'm the same unwavering self I've always been, just not as pretty, and I don't laugh, sing or dance quite as much as I used to - and I want more sleep.  Days of it.  A week even...  Well, it's the weekend now, and it's after noon, so on to the dreaded laundry and grocery shopping chores.  Maybe we'll even go to the toy store, because the kid has $40 he's dying to spend on more crap, like he doesn't have enough, and I 'm running out of room to put it all!  Really, I want to work in the garden and sip cocktails, but I don't want to spend the money on garden supplies today, and the fridge is close to empty.  And the pile of laundry has worn out it's welcome on the living room floor.  Ugh.  Pry fat ass off of bed, turn off computer, take part in real life activities in real time.  Spend time with child.  Enjoy life -->  GO

Oh yeah - any ideas what I should do with the porn?  I had one friend suggest I send it to her, but I don't know what she's planning on doing with it...  Is there still a forum in Penthouse?  Will they pay for it?  Any ideas and suggestions would be welcome!

Year in Review

Wow, haven't checked in for awhile, but it looks like it's time to get with some 'learning documentation', so on we go...

First off, this blog is now a year old, and I want to go back and check in with what's been happening, and comment on what all's gone down this year.  Secondly, I want to talk about the experience of working on my first creative project of the semester.  I have a feeling that may end up being more than one post...

I created the blog and put a few words up on March 11, but the second post, the April 18th post, was an actual introductory paragraph.  I talked about why I was here; my employer thought I could write a blog for the orchard which turned out to fizzle after just three posts - just one more thing neither one of us felt like dealing with!  I liked the idea of blogging, read a few of my friends' blogs, and I thought it was a neat and easy way to do my evening journaling.  It sounds kind of like talking to myself, which, I guess, is what journaling actually is, in a sense.  But journaling is kind of personal, and while I had it in my head that this was the internet, and that gajillions of people use the internet, it never occured to me that anyone I know would read it!  But they did.  Surprise!  It's o.k., I'm an open book kind of chick, anyway...  A year later, I no longer work at the orchard, but I continue to blog.  There seem to be at least 5 people who claim interest in what I may write here, and I still can't tell where the boundry is between personal and private.

I mean, if I'm journaling, then I'm talking to myself.  Getting down all the little things I want to remember about the day, or just sort of take a mental inventory before I go to bed.  It's processing my feelings around what happened in my day and maybe a plan for a better tomorrow.  Checking in.  But in the back of my mind, I'm keely aware that I'm going to put this out there for other random gajillions to read if they so choose, so I hold back - I don't use names.  If you know me, and you know who my kid's dad is, or who I mean when I refer to my BF, then yeah, you can figure your way past my attempt at protecting the anonymity of people who touch my life, whose actions have an effect on me.  That's been tough to reconcile to myself, but I will continue to work on it.  I feel it's my right to talk about what I need, to ask for help in processing a situation sometimes, and also I need to vent.  So I defend my 'tell most' nature, I think it encourages honest discourse.  Besides, if you've got that much to hide...I'm just sayin'.  Don't get me wrong, I have my stories I don't publicize either, so those of you who are close to me - no worries, your secrets are safe!

Another topic I hit the floor running with was the fact that I had reconnected with someone I used to know who I let myself believe wanted to be my Prince Charming.  Turns out he tells that to all the girls, and I was mad that I let myself fall for it at my age, in my shape!  It brings to the surface a lot of what's going on with me in terms of my weight, body issues, and need for companionship.  I know that people who love me love me no matter what I look like.  I know that a person who is going to be attracted to me will be attracted to my many other fine qualities.  I don't feel completely comfortable in this enlarged skin, and I don't believe I'll really let myself get into a relationship before I do.  It's funny, I wasn't going to have kids because I thought I'd never be able to give them what I call 'the white picket fence', but here I am doing an o.k. job at it anyway!  So maybe if I give up looking for love because I don't think I have the things I need to be a healthy partner, will it find me?  The yearly wrap up on all that is, still fat, still single, still chatting online.  Yay.  I'm starting to think that just knowing what I need to do to get healthy isn't enough.  I think it might be time to join some Weight Watchers type thing, where there are other people to help hold me accountable or something...
When I get my life in order - that's when I'll be ready for a boyfriend (in other words, when I'm dead!).  No, it'll happen when it's right,  I hope.

In that same vein, now would be the time to address the yearly review of the BF - for those who may not know, I mean 'best' friend, not boyfriend, when I speak of this elusive form of wildlife.  He is in the same place doing the same thing, and the only thing that's changed is me finally making good on my claim to just be done with it already.  As I read back over the blog, I realized that I've been saying how sick I am of the relationship we have since the second post - so I guess it shouldn't be any surprise that we had a huge argument and I walked away from it all.  That situation has been looking to blow up for awhile now, and I just have too many other things to focus on that are positive, to let this one big negative drag me down anymore.  It hurts and I'm lonely, but ultimately it's the right thing.  Sigh.  Good time buddies...what it is.  More energy to give to my boyfriend, when the Universe delivers him!

Oh my goodness!  A man in the house?!  No way!!  This place is a MESS!  I remember when Zev was a baby, and I was wondering how women had time to get everything done, and they told me, "let your housework go."  I thought, "no way!"  I couldn't do it.  There was no way I could do it.  Now, 5 years later, I look around my house and think, "this is what it means to let your housework go..."  I don't have one of those homes where there's decaying crap in poorly balanced piles to the ceiling and pathways through the clutter, just the ever-present pile of dirty dishes, and unmopped floors.  Too many jackets on the coat-rack, too many shoes by the door - that kind of mess.  Toys on the coffee table (which is really a trunk), a heap of laundry where I dumped all the dirty sheets, towels and blankets on the living room floor, and where they remain, mocking me as I walk past...  My bathroom and kitchen always need a good scrubbing, and if the laundry isn't lying around being dirty, then it is usually hanging around waiting to get dry, or clean waiting to get folded and/or put away.  I seem to always be in a state of 'between' dirty and clean, which, isn't clean.

On the bright side, I'm down to one more box to empty, and then I'll be completely unpacked for the first time in...I can't remember when.  I think I was fully unpacked for a minute when the boy was small, so just over 4 years ago?  This place was a dump when I moved in, much like many of my previous haunts, but over time and with patience, I have scrubbed and painted and decorated, and now it almost looks like something. Without a doubt, way better than it was, but still, the ongoing struggle with the mess.  Also, the garden looks like it's off to a good start this year, my pansies came back in abundance, and I built a pretty rock wall to replace the ugly bricks.  I dug out some of the giant old hostas to make room for more pretty flowers, and perhaps a shrub.  Just needs a bit of soil to fill in where the hostas were and some mulch, and I think we're good to go!

Well, there's a few more topics I wanted to cover still, but I wasn't intending to write an epic poem or anything, and I have other stuff I need to get to today!  I've spent enough time on this post, I've got the next one ready to go, and the one after that planned as well.  I just wish I had some more images to share...need to work on that!  Anyway, sending love and happiness out into the Universe on this Gorgeous Spring day!  Peace, hippies!  Dear god, I'm listening to Steve Miller...must...change......station.........

Laundry Day

Moon Washing

playing with electronic controls

Pond Scum, Algae, Seaweed, Muck.