Inspiration in Action (Saint's)

I wrote this a year ago, which means the original post I am referring back to is over 2 years old, at this point.  Time to get back to it ~ 

(6-5-11)
Relating back to a previous post - holy crap it's been a year, almost to the day! - I've had my mind on this project lately.  I felt like doing some work on it, and then realized that I packed all that stuff up already (figures), and maybe I should flesh out the stories I conjured with a few lines back when..?  And where was it that I had done that, written that down?  Was it in my journal or on the blog?  Goodness, I think it was on the blog, why yes it was, here it is, with pictures!  How nice, now I can move it along to the next stage, good, good, good.  And I believe the Move will start in the next few days, as well, gonna happen slow and easy, nice and smooth as well...all the pieces falling into place just so, and I'm sailing that vessel, that small, solid Lookfar of my own story, feeling it swim it's way over the tides and times, too obscure to expect recognition, world-renowned nonetheless.


M. Citron LeSurfactant, Knight of the Rosy Toilet - Patron Saint of Domestic Order, unclutterer of corners, scourge of the dust bunny, charmed by Giggles' eco-minimalist tree-habitat, father of her 5 children


Giggles, Demigoddess of Folly - a sprite of the forest whose laughter falls like joy upon the heart, her playful spirit comes to those wistful for freedom and adventure, known to bestow gifts on single parents, daughter of Veggicus and Betty, her heart was won by M. leSurfactant's impeccably cozy shabby chic interiors and his noble deeds of stain removal, mother of S-n-S, leFrog, Sam & Minty


Veggicus, High Priest of Health and Wellness


Betty, Goddess of Wisdom


Spic-n-Span, the Conjoined Twins of Peace and Harmony


leFrog, Pope of the Ludicrous


Psychotropic Sam - yeah, that...


Dementia - know for her discontent and self-loathing requiring the employ of lavish gifts, ego-stroking, and undivided attention to successfully dispel her sour aura.

So, M. LeSurfactant, I'll start with you - who are you?  Where were you born, who brought you into being, who raised you where?  Were you a precocious child? A born leader?  Did you crack jokes in class, get beat up on the playground, do well with the ladies?  When did you discover your talent, how do you use it, and what led you on your journey of self-discovery?  I want to know how you met Giggles, what your first impressions of her were, and how you fell in love.  I want to know what you will do when all the kids are grown, and moved out of the tree-habitat - how will you redefine yourself then?

A cub needs a name...

     Once upon a time, there was a weary traveler.  Well, lots upon the times, there were many weary travelers, and you, dear reader, may even be one of them.  But in this particular place, and in this particular time, there was this one particular weary traveler, which is only important insomuch as one's understanding of the Universe is that that's the way things are supposed to happen.  So in this place in time, this weary traveler, who we should call Josie, I think, if that's okay (if you don't like it, we can change it).  Well Josie, she had been wandering long in the world, seeking after knowledge, and felt like she needed to set awhile, in a small village in the North where she had heard there were some highly regarded masters, so there she went.
     The village turned out to be a wonderful place, inhabited by creatively inspiring and searchingly inquisitive individuals, engaged in a variety of studies across many disciplines, and Josie felt well suited to the environment, and so she passed a few years there.  One day, there appeared at her door a large, grey, wolf with black stripes undulating across his thick fur, and she was compelled to let him in, and to follow him, after he had sniffed out the room in a circular sweep, and left just as quick as he'd come.  He led her to a place she knew, but needed to explore more in depth to learn the lesson it had for her, and so she went where she was to go for the next few years to come.  Some of it was bitter, and some of it was sweet, but at the end of it, she found herself alone and naked out in the cold snows of the North - but there was a life growing inside of her.  A small, golden flame that warmed her until she was able to find her way back to one of the little villages she had come to think of as home.
     It was in one of those villages that Josie gave birth to a tiny, dark cub with black hair and grey eyes that was so small, the midwives set him in the good light of the Sun to strengthen and fortify his little body and keep him warm, while they poured thin, chalky, excuses for nourishment into him as Josie's body fought to recover from the potions she had been made to ingest.  When they were both strong and healthy, Josie took the cub traveling, and he grew quickly, rubbing his black hair off, and growing a fine, golden fur in its place, the grey of his eyes shifting and changing with the light.  He was a joyful child, and charmed all the people.  He was clever, and kind, and sent forth love, light, and friendship wherever his mama chose to roam.  But one day, Josie's young cub - who really should have a name as well, but I'm not sure what it should be - got tired of packing all the circus silks into the caravan every time the North wind crossed the East wind in the Southwestern quadrant of his mother's nautilus shell and made that particular whistling sound, so he boldly and righteously asked her to entrust her towel to him for a period of at least 5 years, to which she knew she must concede.
     (You do know why he wanted her towel, right?  Well, the late Mr. Douglas Adams talks about the importance of one's towel in relation to space travel in his acclaimed Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy series, which you should definitely read.  I was using it as a larger metaphor - as a symbol of a particular, chosen lifestyle, and a period of separation from it as opposed to a permanent loss of freedom.)  As for the young cub...his adventure is just beginning.  He seeks to speak with the dragons, and defend the lives of the innocent with his own strength and power, but he is young, and tender.  There is much for young cubs to know in this world, and few who would truly teach them...



p.s. ~ hey, look what I found in the info-weave!

The original quotation that explained the importance of towels is found in Chapter 3 of Adams's
work The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.

“	A towel, it says, is about the most massively useful thing an interstellar hitchhiker can have. Partly it has great practical value. You can wrap it around you for warmth as you bound across the cold moons of Jaglan Beta; you can lie on it on the brilliant marble-sanded beaches of Santraginus V, inhaling the heady sea vapours; you can sleep under it beneath the stars which shine so redly on the desert world of Kakrafoon; use it to sail a miniraft down the slow heavy River Moth; wet it for use in hand-to-hand-combat; wrap it round your head to ward off noxious fumes or avoid the gaze of the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal (such a mind-bogglingly stupid animal, it assumes that if you can't see it, it can't see you); you can wave your towel in emergencies as a distress signal, and of course dry yourself off with it if it still seems to be clean enough. More importantly, a towel has immense psychological value. For some reason, if a strag (strag: non-hitch hiker) discovers that a hitch hiker has his towel with him, he will automatically assume that he is also in possession of a toothbrush, face flannel, soap, tin of biscuits, flask, compass, map, ball of string, gnat spray, wet weather gear, space suit etc., etc. Furthermore, the strag will then happily lend the hitch hiker any of these or a dozen other items that the hitch hiker might accidentally have "lost". What the strag will think is that any man who can hitch the length and breadth of the galaxy, rough it, slum it, struggle against terrible odds, win through, and still knows where his towel is, is clearly a man to be reckoned with. Hence a phrase that has passed into hitchhiking slang, as in "Hey, you sass that hoopy Ford Prefect? There's a frood who really knows where his towel is." (Sass: know, be aware of, meet, have sex with; hoopy: really together guy; frood: really amazingly together guy.)[3]	”
	— Douglas Adams, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Year in Review 2012...2011?

Well hey there, strangers! 

I've been so goddamned busy and flat out that I haven't taken the time to be with myself for over a month - here it is halfway through April, and I need a self-inflicted ass-kicking, again.  I was riding on such a wave of celebration, as the Winter holidays are followed closely by my and the boy's birthdays, right after which I graduated from college, then went away with friends for the weekend, and had other occasions for making merry as well.  Then it was the end of March/beginning of April, and I finally had a minute to stand still and realize that spring break and Passover were right around the corner, and the bottom fell out of my sanity for a minute, until I remembered what was bothering me, really.  When the pain in my back started, I thought, 'Oh, yeah.  Because this is when Dad died...'  So in order to make my peace with the holiday, I'm going to write my own Seder for next year, and invite folks to my place, but that's another story, today is all about the Year in Review!

Last year, I started with griping about how Nexus still hadn't seen the light of day, and how I was taking a 'leave of absence' from Goddard due to the extreme stress of dealing with my mother in court.  I'm happy to say that Nexus has been completed.  Well, as complete as any piece ever really is, because I'm sure I could still (and always) tweak a few things...but it's an actual book, now, and I'll take some shots to show it off ~

Yaay!  There it is.  In whatever glory it has.  If you want one, you can send me $25 - $40 dollars, and I'll mail it out to you!  The tie-dye one is mine, sorry, but there will be more designs, coming soon!  It's all the same book inside, and each copy will have a unique cover - feel free to let me know if you have any preferences, I'll see what I can do!

So there's a giant 'to do' that's been on my list for years, completed finally.  That and college, all rolled into one, hooray for progress!  I have to say I did a shitty job on my thesis and I ought to be punished for producing such low-caliber work, but I'll go back for my Master's, to redeem my self-worth by taking on the challenge of raising my own bar.  I was gonna take a picture of my diploma, and the nifty little pin they gave me in 'welcome to Goddard's alumni community', but that would be overkill, and really, it's just a piece of paper with my name on it.  That makes two things that are looking much better from this side, this year - another is the dreadful lawsuit, with my evil mother walking away with a mere one visit a month, which is more than I wanted to give her, but it's a great deal less than what she asked for, and that's the end of that.

I'm still dealing with 'tinnitus', the constant ringing in my ears, but I've got myself pretty convinced it's a deep-body issue that will only be solved by yoga, cleanses, and long, hard work.  The itchy red patch of rash on my right ankle is looking MUCH better, and though it still isn't completely healed, it looks and feels better than it has in years...change in diet?  Change in attitude?  College/Nexus?  All of the above..and more?  Still, my general health has improved, even in the face of gaining back the 20 lbs. I managed to lose last year, blech.  We're still in the same apartment, about 10 months now, and it looks like we're doing okay here.  I feel the urge to roam so deep in my bones it hurts, sometimes, but I really think we're where we need to be, so I'm gonna sit tight, and ride it out as best I can.  I made a promise, and that's how I roll.

A promise - measured in the lengthening of my boy's limbs, over a summertime.  Such a promise he is to me, of all my tomorrows, bright and sorrowful.  Age creeping upon me like a looked-for respite, a reason to sit down and smile, while I wave him on ahead, falling ever further behind, disappearing into my own forever.  What an amazing gift is motherhood, and the wisdom we learn from our children - oh, for the chance at another spin around this wheel!  How much we just never know, and how much we just need to love.  And how much of it is silence.  How much?  It's been a trying year of new developments with the boy, as he grows and reasons and learns.  But he is growing, and reasoning, and learning, so I stand on the sidelines and cheer, and hope I'm feeding him the right fire to launch his rockets for the stars.  Poetry is the heat from off his skin - he is magnificence, divine.

No big Summer plans, other than camp for him and work for me, but Rainbow may be on this coast this year, so...we'll see.  I'll probably make another attempt to grow myself a salad on my porch, in pots, and those embarrassing photos will most likely make up my summer stock shares this year, as they have in the past!  One of these days, I'll have some success - I know I will!  Also, I'm sporting a new vehicle this year, Larry, the Chrysler Concorde.  He got named Larry after the guy who sold him to us - the boy put the name in for a suggestion, and the guy made such a big deal about it, telling everyone in the dealership we were naming the car after him, I couldn't not name the car Larry, so there it is.  Larry.  We'll have to come up with a nickname, maybe...

And can you believe?  STILL no boyfriend!  I've decided I just give off a 'not interested' vibe, because in most ways, I'm not interested.  I have enough going on just trying to keep my own little boat floating, the last thing I need is to upset the balance that's barely there to begin with.  Hell, I have a hard enough time making and keeping friends - and lovers can be infinitely more complicated.  How I long for the 80's...HAhahahahaa!  No, but I do, though, for what they were to me in terms of my free-love decade.  For someone who worships at the 'gates of freedom' as I do, this dry spell is enraging!  I am in need of some serious release, people.  Feel free to direct any and all sacrificial lambs to my slaughter.  Although I probably lost more friends that I made this year, and I hope the new ones don't come to hate me as the old ones did, I'm happily reporting being in a much better place than I was last April (at this particular moment), and I feel good for having taken the time to notice that.  So it wasn't a bad year, and here's to all of y'all awesome people whose good energy helps to sustain me, whoever and wherever ye may be!

 

♥ (^_^) ♥

Holy Crap

They just updated blogger...look for changes I guess.  That's what I get for not stopping in more often.

7 Things - because a friend asked if anyone wanted to play along.

7 things about me:

1. I recently compiled most of my scribblings and sketches of the past 20 years into an artist's book called Nexus Of Ecstasy, for which I am creating unique covers, and may even plan on attempting to trade for cash in the near future.  I will post pictures very soon.

2. My son is going to be 8 in a few days, and that's really amazing.  He's a great kid, and I just love him so much, I hope he has a fun birthday.  We invited a bunch of his friends to the roller rink/arcade/laser tag/bumper car joint next weekend, and I feel incredibly blessed to be able to provide that for him this year.

3. In an effort to expand my food repertoire, I made veggie wraps the other day:  I cut long, narrow strips of carrot, celery, cucumber, purple cabbage, and escarole, and rolled them up in blanched collard greens with some hummus.  They were pretty good, but when I made a dipping sauce out of peanut butter softened with hot water, Bragg's liquid aminos, some apple cider vinegar, two drops of honey, fresh crushed garlic, and a shot of red pepper, the experience was sublime.

4. Right now, in this moment, everything is fine.  Right now, in this moment, everything in my immediate sphere is fine.  Of course, I realize there are millions suffering with things the likes of which I can't even imagine, and I must keep them in mind while feeling my peace, even.

5. I wonder if I will have a companion/confidante to keep me company when I am elderly.

6. As is natural, given the times in which we live, I have a great many concerns about the plight of my fellow creatures.  The scales seemed tipped precariously towards the 'darker angels of our nature', and it feels almost as if one must wield the shining sword of righteousness tirelessly, as new worries rise to snap at the heels of evolution every day - the onslaught a wave that keeps breaking, as outrage piles upon outrage, and I am dizzy with all the spin.  Sometimes, I feel the tension in my body as if the Earth itself could split open with it.  I do hope that when it finally breaks, I will have helped inspire someone to know how to mend it, and to be included in the process.

7. While I feel as if I'm living in a state of gratitude, I also feel that if I get too comfortable with it, something will happen to change its blessed nature, but that I should also abandon myself to the sheer joy of it while I can.  It seems like, the older I get, the greater the chance that I will fly off into ecstasies, and leave gravity for those who have a use for it. 

Peace  ♥

I am a river of fire

     Rob Brezsny really hit the nail on the head with me when he suggested this image of Horsetail Fall over El Capitan in Yosemite National Park, CA be my (Aquarius') inspirational symbol for the week, and to imprint it in my mind's eye, as it would 'help unleash the subconscious forces you'll need to pull off your own natural wonder.'  I had concluded that the normal birthday-energy-surge was just late, this year, but I think I feel it coming on.  Midwinter came and passed, and I guess it's kind of hard to burst out of a Winter that never really got all that wintry.  I realize we're not there, yet, but I felt the small tick of the season it took to change my grey sweats for a patterned skirt with some bright red in it.  About a week ago, I was talking with this woman I know who is a health coach, and one of the things we discussed was making a collage, or writing a poem - engaging in some creative process to represent one's commitment to one's self.  So I took some time this morning to look through a folder of things I find beautiful that make me happy, and it reminded me of the idea I had to write a legend of my son's birth story, and in turn, of once again returning to the long-denied process I call Saint's (which, of course, led to another idea...).  I find it interesting that I still spend time learning who I am, like it's almost curious how I still discover myself, rediscover, in the change of seasons, over weeks, in a day.

     I am a river of fire.  Reflecting Sol, setting burnished in a molten golden glow, as he bids 'Fare thee well, horizon!'  I am the fiery gateway, the scalded righteousness, the holy burning transformation as your tear free.  Something about gilded rooftops, and coppery brightness - but for the suggestive blinding - and we must avoid combustion for the knowing.  Glories...wondrous glories...and then the dreams.  The one of the boy, in the rowboat, pulling himself in to shore, and then gone.  In a cloud, a puff of mist.  The old Moroccan, it was his fault, He saw what happened, could have helped, could have prevented, could have Done Something.  I haunted him for years, that beach, that sad empty place inside my skull, until finally the Asian lady that worked at the cafe yelled at me, said I couldn't come in there to haunt him anymore, it made everyone uncomfortable, it was time to move on.
     The next was renewal, dared to be hopeful.  Featured the childhood friend and his family, newly constructed spaces, basements and light.  Moving and vehicles.  Nighttime.  Heightened tension and a test, an unquestioned bond proven.  And the next, more hopeful still - new digs again, possibly shared, cathedral ceiling-ed, well appointed and tended.  Clean, cavernous corridor to an underground pedal-boat channel letting out into a sun-filled park that may have been part of something larger, it didn't concern me.  In a storage closet on my side (the service side) of the moat, mini tricycles to pedal back up the smooth, flat path back to the rooms, to finish rearranging the fabulous things while awaiting the arrival of the child, who was slightly awed, vaguely embarrassed, was withdrawn and shy, yet coy and curious.  I couldn't wait to tell him about the pedal-boats, and the mini-tricycles!  Where did he think this piece should go..?
   And THEN!  My god sent me another lover - a satyr, no less, for all his god-light!  Which gave me the thread for the rest of the Porn series, fancy that..(after so much time with the minotaur, it must be time to switch it up)!  Feeling so blessed for the vision, Universe, thanks for it - and I see now why the heavy, dripping stagnance, and humble further.  Yes, I will combust with it, one day, but not today...not today!  Oh, the Balanced way, on a Fool's Journey!  Hanging always, as I am, with this eye out and the leg crossed over, just so...  I will run their racist Gypsy wagon right back over them, with my big, hoop earrings and scheming ways, the crown JEWel, hidden away in my father's treasure stash.  I know secrets, though I keep them hidden under my hood, where they hiss and whisper to you of their danger, tease you with the licking intensity of their passion, and caress me with your assent.  Sneaking through the back, down a tunnel, 'round the bend - In the Out door.  Come, step behind the curtain, boy, now where did I leave my fangs..oh, right here next to my Gloria!  Party ~
     So the boy is going to be eight, and he's turning into to a proper little person, not my baby anymore (well, always my baby, just not a baby).  2012, solar flares, the year of the dragon, the dawning of the age of Aquarius - it's all pretty intense, and I need to remember to stay all in while I try not to fall out.  I've been nodding over this paragraph for half an hour, now, been falling asleep at the computer, three days running...I should be stitching the fabric of my dreams, not squinting into the near-dark, at my disappearing keyboard as it fades with the light.  The heat of New Worlds being Born are warming me from the inside, and my body is exhausted from the process - or the uglier conclusion.
     I am a river of fire, burning through the solid bedrock of my own core, a gateway Between.  You can look, but I'll never tell, the poem contained within my body, the one you really mean.  Out from under the bushel, baby, at least for this week, ride that dragon.

...and the peanut sauce I could've bathed in.

Birthday Post 2012

Well.  What to say about this birthday?  I don't want to do a whole 'year in review' type post, because I usually do those in the Spring, on the blog's anniversary...so what do I want to say?  I had found a quote that spoke to me, recently, and I considered posting it on faceshnook, but I've got enough trouble over there, so maybe I'll start some shit over here, instead.  Here goes:

"I shall never cease to wonder at women.  Even with power, it is not possible to read their minds.  Duchess and slut alike, they need not even study to deceive.  I suppose it is the same with slaves, who live with fear, and with those animals who disguise themselves by instinct to save their lives." 

- Mary Stewart

Pretty rough words, huh?  Keep in mind, I'm taking them completely out of the context in which they were written to suit my own purposes, but the meaning retains its wisdom, even so.  I grew up with a brother I was quite tight with, a father I adored (though we butted heads as often as we agreed), and a mother I never quite learned to respect, but that I am learning to forgive.  My maternal grandmother was a hard woman, the heavy to my maternal grandfather's saintly patience and kindness.  I believe it was the complete and utter peace and happiness of special moments with my grandfather that informed my life-long love of addiction to chocolate ice cream.  I feel that these formative relationships are the fundamental factors that led to my easy repore with men, and my instinctive distrust of, yet fawning desire to be accepted by, women.

People who know me have heard me say "I'm no Giselle" (Bundchen, Victoria Secret supermodel), in wondering why women tend not to trust me around their husbands.  I think it's a symptom of their marriages, personally, and/or the woman's own insecurities about herself, that lead to these touchy scenarios, but it has been pointed out to me that women who are looking to, can read 'signals' into the ways I communicate and move my body that I am completely unaware of.  I was asked once (in the first of several attempts at conversation to dispel these fallacies from the head of a woman I try desperately to maintain a good relationship with) "why would you bend over in front of my husband so he could see down your shirt?"  Umm...I was picking something up off the floor, I had no idea the horn-dog was looking down my shirt - maybe you should be talking to him about this?  (Or maybe just get over yourself because I would never flirt with a friend's husband unless she wanted me to, and men will look at breasts no matter where or how they present themselves.)  Same conversation:  "why would you squat down in a way that so-and-so's husband could see your thong sticking up out of the waistband of your pants?"  (Long time ago, before the kid.  Rest assured, this would never happen today!)  Uhh...I was squatting like that because it was comfortable, and again, I had no idea my thong was visible, or that there was a horn-dog standing behind me ogling my ass!  I fail to see how being looked at by men (or women, for that matter), married or not, is something I should be made to feel ashamed of, or that it's somehow 'my fault', and a behavior that needs correcting.

I bring this up because it pains me, deeply, that as women, we have been made to feel as if we are each other's competition, and as such, are subtly encouraged not to trust each other.  The 'divide and conquer' of patriarchy.  In the past two weeks, I have had words with two women, one of whom is unquestionably gone from my life forever (no real loss, except for the blow to feminism her insecurities perpetuate), the other...well...we'll see.  There are women in my life I trust implicitly, but our relationships were forged along with our sexuality, so there was a higher level of trust between us from the drop.  And now that I'm thinking about it, there was another woman within the past year whom I lost to a breach in sexual security, though I doubt she sees it that way, and I'm not willing to bring it up to her at this time.  It all adds up to the same thing - the thing I've been telling my girls for years - I Am Loyal To My Sisters Over And Above Any Man.  Period.  And I don't think it's too much to ask the same in return.  Why can't we trust each other?  Or, to pick the positive, Can we learn to trust one another?  Can we lay down the arms we tend to get all up in and see to our collective power?  Must we behave like 'slaves, who live with fear, and...those animals who disguise themselves by instinct to save their lives?'  What are we afraid of?  What is it we are so terrified to lose?  Or is it something we're afraid to gain?  Being single, I think it's easier for me to see this perspective, though even as a girlfriend I'm not one to be the 'why're you looking at her' type, because I think it's human nature to look towards beauty, and I don't see a damn thing wrong with people acting like humans.  In fact, I encourage it!

*a glitch in blogger deleted part of this paragraph - I was talking about how I usually feel energized and alive as my birthday aproaches, and this year, I didn't.  I felt out of sorts and agitated, and I mentioned some weird astrological happenings that were affecting everyone, and then said: (no, not the 2012 thing, Armageddonites!).*  There's issues in the government, and people are getting collectively worked up about it.  Much like the ripples from the stone thrown in water, these vibrations are washing over me, and I feel ambushed by them.  Derailed, blown off course, cast adrift to bob and sway in the current as it carries me...where?  Down the dark road of my memories to the place in time where my grandfather took me for ice cream - and farther, to the day I was born, just two days shy of his 49th birthday.  Every year of my life thus far, my grandfather and I have celebrated our birthdays more or less together.  Decade upon decade of cakes spelling out 'Happy Birthday Zayde and Mayde'.  This year, as my grandfather passed away two months ago, there will be no shared cake, no phone calls - his to me, or mine to him.  I lost my paternal grandfather 28 years ago.  I lost my dad 13 years ago.  My brother and I haven't really spoken in years.  And this year, I lost my Zayde.  As I have no husband/boyfriend, and haven't for many years, that makes a clean sweep of men from my life.  All gone.

Maybe that's why I'm looking to the women, and attempting to reconcile the competitive mistrust that tends to characterized our relationships.  Maybe after having spent my life up until now looking at the men in my family as the ones to be trusted, while shying away from the fears that seems to have informed the attitudes of the women who raised me, I need my sister-friends more than ever - and they are busy jumping ship like rats, to protect the very systems that force us to hide our light from each other, rather than help each other grow and flourish. 

In any case, I'll be having a party, as I do every year.  I can't tell you who I'm expecting out of respect for their privacy, but I believe the guest list will include one married hetero couple, and one gay man.  Gone are the days (apparently) when I could gather half the town to one of my themed birthday shindigs, but there is the distinct possibility that a few surprise guests may blow in at the last minute.  Whether they do or not, I will most likely post about it after the fact, so I encourage you to check back after the weekend to see if anyone posted naked drunk pictures of me to my own blog.  I wouldn't bet your retirement on it, but it could happen!

Happy birthday to me ~ ♥