feeding reese's pieces to the neighbor kid

me: do you know what color this one is?

short person: wed.

me: well, it's orange. close enough. can you say orange?

sp: owange.

me: right on. now this will give you super powers if you eat it, ok? it will make you be good for your mom all day. go ahead, eat it up. ok, now what color is this one?

sp: bwue.

me: no, it's only blue if you're on crack. you're not on crack. it's yellow. can you say yellow?

sp: yewwow.

me: very good. this one will make you talk in a really deep voice. eat it up. ok, now say yellow, like this: yellow.

sp: yewwow.

me: awesome. ok now what color is this?

sp: bwue.

me: no, it's not blue. are you high? it's brown. ok? say brown.

sp: bwown.

me: good. now this one makes your pee turn blue. i'm not kidding. i know, it's funny. pretty weird. ok now what color is this one? don't say blue.

sp: *giggles* bwue.

me: no, no, no. really, what color is it?

sp: wed.

me: it's yellow, silly.

sp: yewwow

me: haha, yeah, what is it?

sp: YEWWOOOOOWWWWWW

me: right on. eat 'em up.

i can't wait for him to get all pissed off because his pee isn't blue. or orange, or yewwow... it's all the same to that kid.

i can't decide whether i'm awesome, teaching a kid his colors in a quirky way, or an asshole who should have been sterilized at birth.

quiet

it's quiet tonight, finally. it was a noisy afternoon, one of those that was amplified somehow, each sound bouncing off the one before and after it, echoing and increasing in volume and velocity, flying toward your ears at a rate of speed that would make the concord jealous.

it was a hard day. somehow things got turned around in someone's head and i was asked to take responsibility for someone else's decisions. i don't do that anymore. it wore me out, the discussing and the thoughts and the conversations tangling up all over themselves till you finally have to just throw the damn thing out.

now, though, it's quiet, like i said. the kids are tucked into their beds, beau is off making music with a friend and all i hear now is the hum of the fridge and the occasional chime of my phone as i keep a friend company while she works.

i need to enjoy this time. i don't get enough of it, really.

i'm trying to slow down, to rearrange, to make my life make sense even though it's fragmented sometimes.

i want to play with clay.

just a little bit of overwhelmage.

most of the time, it's not too bad. most days, i don't quite manage to balance everything, but i think i have most of it in the right order. i can usually get in a few hours of work, color a picture or two, answer myriad questions about kitten brains and human rights and life and stars and religion. i find time to eat and clean and shower and pee, and most of us have mostly clean clothes most of the time. in between, i sneak a minute or two of snuggles wherever i can.

most of the time, i pull it off, or i'm damn good at faking it.

some days, though, it feels like i'm in a tiny cage, looking out at all the responsibility holding me there. i'm not a responsible person by nature. i don't do well with schedules and bills and timelines. i'm the one in the back of the class goofing off and then throwing something together at the last minute, and most of the time, somehow, it works beautifully. it's a struggle not to live that way, now. i tried, and it doesn't work when there are little people depending on you for food and learning and clean underwear and i can't stand for the toilet to be dirty or the sink to smell funky or for the clothes to sit too long before being folded. i can't stand turning in half-ass work because i'm rushed, even if nobody else knows the difference.

most of the time, it works ok.

sometimes, though, doing it all by myself all the time crushes me until there's nothing left at all, and i don't know how i'm going to wake and do it again. and then, of course, i get all of the littles tucked away into their beds, and the last of the dishes are done up and the toilet lid is down because i'm terrified of accidental drownings, and somewhere around two in the morning the deadlines are met and i can crawl into bed and breathe, finally, and fall asleep wrapped in silence and comfort and grace, and in the morning i'll pretend that i know how to do it again.

yay, my yard looks fabulous. :)

so the guy who just did my yard did an amazing job. he's been through some hard times and is working hard to make ends meet, just like most of us around here are. if anyone in the woodfin/asheville area needs any work done on your yard or around the house-he does carpentry too-give him a call. he'll do a good job, and he's a really nice guy, too. call denver bailey @ 606-854-1789.

awesome and weird.

two or three years ago, baby girl and i used to hang out downtown quite a bit. she used to spend a lot of time playing with a dog named hippie while his owner, a guy named denver, and i talked. one day denver made baby girl a really cool necklace out of black cord.

we hadn't seen him in a couple of years, and i'd forgotten about him and hippie and the necklace until baby girl found it the other day. it still fit, and she wore it for the next couple of days.

this morning, i'm looking at my pitiful yard and my pitiful little motor-less mower and wondering how the heck i'm ever going to get it mowed.

a few minutes ago, someone comes to the door with a weedeater, offering to clean up the yard. he looks vaguely familiar, and then he tells me his name. it's denver-the same denver we used to know. i don't have any money-wish i did-tell him if i did, i'd love to have him do it. he says let's call it grace because our paths crossed again, and he'll do it for nothing.

i gave him my last five dollars and offered him a beer, which he declined, and now i'm wondering how it is that things work out like they do.

i like happy coincidences like this.

la lala lalaaaaa...

i'm going to make up a song. it's going to be called, "don't be a jackass."

it will go like this:

"don't be a jackass.
don't be a jackass.
don't beeeee a jackaaaaaass
get over it already
you emo fucking jackass."

and i'm going to sing it very loudly. but not here. because i don't allow jackasses in my house. because i'm SMART like that.

my kid is funny.

we were having a few people over last night, and i was telling baby girl who all was coming. one of the people is a guy named jaffe, who she hadn't met.

zo: jaffe? who is jaffe?

me: he's played with space medicine. he plays the didgeridoo.

zo: the WHAT?

me: the didgeridoo. it's a musical instrument.

zo: a guy named jaffe who plays the didgeraboo.

me: close enough. yes.

zo: you have GOT to be kidding me. do other kids have stuff like this?

pepsi and the pledge of allegiance

so now people are boycotting pepsi because they left the words "under god" out of the pledge of allegiance on some new promotional packaging. the general consensus seems to be that they've tarnished some sacred american document, and by jesus, we're a CHRISTIAN nation, and the pledge proves it. pepsi ought to know better.

1. the pledge of allegiance was written in 1892 by francis bellamy-a baptist minister, and a socialist-as part of an advertising campaign.

2. the words "under god" were not part of the original pledge. they were added by eisenhower in 1954 as a response to cold war panic.

3. it translates as follows-for those of you who simply recite it by rote and don't think: "i promise to be true to the united states of america, a nation of unity and equal rights for everyone." [gotta love wishful thinking.]

if you're going to bitch about something, know what you're bitching about.

what's really funny is that people are refusing to drink it because of this silliness, rather than because of all the garbage that's in it that will ruin your health. priorities, folks. you got 'em. don't worry, you can switch to coke for your kids' breakfast drink until pepsi realizes the error of their ways.

nerd humor

jeremy: if a star trek convention came to asheville, who do you think anthony would make you dress up as?

me: if a star trek convention came to asheville, i think you'd have to be anthony's date.

jeremy: who should i dress up as, then?

me: spock.

jeremy: no, i'd dress up as yoda. go to a star trek convention as yoda... haaaaahahahahahaha... that would be like suicide. do you know who yoda is?

me: yes.

jeremy: ok, so you get why that's funny. spock is the only guy you know from star trek, isn't he?

me: ...yeah.

jeremy: *shakes head sorrowfully* oh mom. we have so much to teach you. perhaps we should get you some sort of textbook.

that ain't science fiction, babe.

beau [watching the crew succumb to some scantily-clad green-hued ladies on-what else-star trek]: they put off this really powerful pheromone that causes men's adrenaline to spike.

me: sweetie... we all do that.

boys are cute when they think they're immune to us.

two in the morning, looking around.

i like when this happens.

i'm sitting in my little house-i've lived here almost two months now, long enough for dust to accumulate in the corners of the old hardwood floors and for the dishes to have settled in their permanent places in the cupboards. we've learned the creaky spots in the hall and we're starting to remember that the back screen door swings shut just before you reach to open it the whole way.

i've been a mom for almost 20 years now. i'm used to the sounds of sleeping kids, the little sighs and movements... i can tell the difference between the shifting of a pillow underneath a little head and the shuffling of a blanket being kicked off of the bed. i can navigate almost sightlessly the ever-present obstacle course of barbie dolls and bicycle helmets that litter bedroom floors, and the fridge is almost always stocked with soy milk, grapes and strawberry jam. every morning is hugs and i missed you while we were sleeping and do you want cereal or waffles? every night is kisses, taking glasses off, the same near-reverent routines they've had since birth.

i've been in this relationship, first as friends and then as... this... for over a year now. i know the way he moves by heart, can predict the way he'll stretch and turn when he's waking up, and how he'll turn on to his side to go to sleep. he is egg-in-a-hole and chorizo for breakfast, tie-dyed shirts and dashing hats, playing absently with his beard while he watches sci-fi on tv. his voice and hands are burned into my brain.

and still, at two in the morning, slouching on the loveseat writing tripe to pay the bills, sometimes i pause and look around and everything is new. the color of the walls, the batman helmet on the floor, the hippie curled on the couch and quiet snores from sleeping kids and darkness all around and it is light and new in here. it is familiar and it's comfort and it's somehow still remarkable and new.

i don't know why that is. it's surreal, almost. it's incredible and wonderful and all i can think is how did i get so lucky? how amazing that we're here.

sorrow and anger

i got into a pretty heated argument yesterday with someone i considered a friend. his daughter and mine were friends, we'd spent time hanging out together; for the past year or so we commiserated over single parenthood and financial strife and all the other things we had in common. i thought he was an open-minded, compassionate, sane person.

then i found out how he felt about gay people.

first he said he didn't believe in gay marriage. i was curious and asked why. usually, people hold that view because of their religious beliefs. while i don't necessarily think that's right, i can understand and appreciate that they are basing their opinions on something that they feel makes sense. it's not just arbitrary discrimination; they interpret their sacred text, something that shapes their lives, as saying that it's wrong. i can't expect you to respect my religious views if i don't respect yours, and in those cases, we agree to disagree and move on. that isn't the case here, though. this person had no logical or theological basis for his view. he repeatedly contradicted himself when trying to make his points, and he never answered a single question that i or anyone else asked in an attempt to understand his point of view.

the final straw was when he referred to homosexual people as "sexual predators."

it makes me sick just to type that.

it makes me sad to think that my daughter can no longer play with his little girl-but i refuse to allow my children to be around anyone with such a dangerous mindset. if you disagree with gay marriage or with gay people being parents and i understand why, i can explain it to my children. it's not hard to say "miss suzy believes in a religion that says that's not ok. we believe something different, and here is why." but even with all the words in my vocabulary, i don't have the right ones to explain hate and cruelty. i have no idea how to explain something so distorted and illogical to my children.

this person kept talking about "tolerance" and how he was the tolerant one, and i was intolerant of him because i refused to accept his belief that gays shouldn't be allowed to get married. HELL YES i'm intolerant of him. i will not tolerate hate and bigotry. i don't HAVE to tolerate those things. i don't want them in my life, or in my kids' lives.

i have some wonderful friends who happen to be gay. there is one woman in particular who has been a second mother to my children. when we were going through a really hard time, my kids spent the night with her. my little one curled up in her bed with her and went to sleep. i was grateful that she was able to give my baby that comfort. it never once crossed my mind-i don't even want to type this, it has me near tears-to think that she might abuse my child in any way. she's a loving, caring, giving woman, raising her own child and doing an incredible job, and she is one of the very few people with whom i trust my babies. i know another gay couple who adopted and are raising two wonderful little girls. the girls are polite, intelligent, well-behaved... damaged in NO WAY by being raised by two mothers. it's reprehensible for anyone-especially a single father raising a child who isn't biologically his own-to imply that a parent might abuse a child based simply on his or her gender or sexuality.

i've seen this kind of hate from a distance and been enraged by it. i never thought i'd experience it from someone i thought was a friend. i'm confused and sad and very, very angry. it's hard enough knowing that there are people i love who are denied the same rights that i have, because of ignorant people like this guy. to see it firsthand like this is sickening.

social(ism)lite

my neighbor came over a little while ago and asked if she could have a cup of milk.

i gave it to her.

she apologized for having to ask. i told her not to apologize, because next week i may need something from her.

we live next door to each other. we share a street, a property line; our addresses are two digits apart. she is like me in some ways. she's very different from me in others.

some people think that i shouldn't have given her the milk.

i should have said, NO. this is MY milk. i worked for that milk. i spent my own time going to the store, selecting that milk, paying for it, taking it home, and putting it away.

what if i suddenly decide that i need more milk than what's left in my refrigerator after sharing with you? i have plenty for now, and for tomorrow, and for the next day, but WHAT IF. what if all the cows dry up. what if a million things that could happen.

what then?

then we'll drink something else.

she's no less than i am because she has less today. tomorrow, it could be me asking.

i've been involved in some heated conversations lately, and the participants have been fairly evenly divided between those who believe in every man, woman and child for himself and those who believe that we should care for each other-not only our next door neighbors, but our metaphorical neighbors. not all of them are kind. not all of them are honest. but if we are, and if we share those things, then we err on the side of good and we make things better. otherwise, we end up isolated in our homes, doors dead-bolted, guarding our possessions until we die and rot among them. we want to place conditions on our neighbors' right to live. if x then y, and if z then fuck you. circumstances=bank balance=right to food, shelter, health care.

i refuse to accept that. you can have my milk.

i hate...

when there are all these things i want to say to my sweetheart, but the words get all tangled up and shy and hide when i try to say them, so all i can do is switch off the kitchen light, lock the front door, find my way to the bedroom in the dark, crawl into my space between him, jack and sally, bury my head in his shoulder and hope that he hears what i want to say anyway.

new blog

it's linked over there ---->
bliss-trippin'.
keeping track of things that make me happy.
i'll still keep this one updated with my rants and tales and whatever else i think you need to hear. also, i figured out how to get them to automatically post to facebook. i'm catching up... almost to the 21st century, tech-wise. oh yeah. i'm awesome.

if you don't love america, move to canada.

um...