Wednesday, October 30, 2013

flail, flail, Thundress.

this child in my lap has finally found a moments rest. not asleep, but still, nursing with one hand tucked over my collar and down to my skin. she's not even technically nursing, but drifting one hand along my waistlined flesh, back and forth, eyes open to the world. 
just moments ago she, who nursed last maybe 8 minutes ago, was distraught.  kicking, screaming, wounded by the universe, she would not be tamed. i always think she is going to hurt herself inadvertently, giving us an actual ACTUAL, identifiable problem.  seems it might be a relief, to know what is going on.  she is a dream, these are but fleeting moments, really. and i am so glad that i have been able to nurse these babes, to have the flesh-contact be the answer sometimes.

yes, she has been trying to eat the jade plant. yes, it probably is not that good to eat.

now the eyes are closed. her own thumb has replace my skin, and we wait while i gird my loins for an attempt at laying her down. i can never make the decision quickly. it is a much larger philosophical problem, really. after all, do i rest as i am? do i change the scenario and get all my 'tasks' accomplished.  do i write the rest of this thing, end it quickly?
i have decided NOT to the the NONOMOPO writing challenges that belong in November. I look forward to reading what people write, as they get to it... but I am trying to be somewhat realistic with my time and abilities... Its too bad really, because I love getting feedback, and i even like the actual writing... but there it is.  first, i have to get over the all-day field trip coming up on the 1st ... talking with strangers all freaking day.  its going to kill me, possibly.  if i drank, i would command a bottle at the end of it all.  but. no.
i hope some of my friends of the ethers will be writing. please do. its good for us all.  c'mon...

allright. i'm making the move to put her down.  keep your fingers crossed. 
(just realized i don't know how to spell sayonara? )
sticking with italian,


Thursday, October 24, 2013

hurricane?or swamplife? you decide.

i'm just about to begin menstruation, i believe, and so you decide how to weigh the hysteria of my past weeks. 

saw an old man walking down a grocery aisle pushing a cart, wrists a-wobbly and not much bigger than me, but plugging along, completely unaware that I could see his shoulder blades through his ironed polo shirt, and was slowly losing my mind about how we are all going to get old, and decrepit and fall down in complete and utter lack-of-control because our bodies are completely going to fail us.  and this? this is if we are lucky enough to make it to that. lucky.
i was crying in the Goya.

next friday my oldest starts basketball for the first time, every friday evening for two hours for an indeterminate number of weeks, drills, skills and blahblah.  i love basketball, it is definitely my sport and i love it pretty unabashedly, even if I don't stay awake to watch it....  but i am completely bereft that i am losing an entire weekend night in which my family and i can hang out together, as. a. family. a unit, a pivotal unit in the universe.  what, do we have to give up going to Meeting in order to have hangout time? give up God for Basketball? I'm not sure I want my kid to be that kid, and I am getting the glimmers of 'drive them everywhere' momm-ing that people have been talking about.  do i need to buy a minivan? so i can drive packs of children to different sporting events and drink giant plastic cups of something? with a straw?

I spent at least five hours on separate days freaking out about having signed up to go on a day-long fieldtrip with my oldest.  This, because I might have to carpool with women I do not know.  and in carpooling, i have to give up my illusion of anonymity and isolation born of choice. I'm terrified to be in an enclosed socially awkward space for the length of time that we have.  If I expose my stupid awkward no-hear-you self to C's friend's moms, I will actually BE the pariah that I fear. no more wishful thinking, but reality. Honestly, it makes me feel all nauseated, just to think about.  and I guess that I fear not having the experience with my boy and his friends more than I fear the other moms. so there is that.
maybe i won't get picked. then i'll miss out on a hundred things, all at once.

hubsJ also signed me up to coach a 'destination imagination' thing afterschools.  between the fieldtrip forms glowing on the table and hubsJ's announcement last night, it was not that good for me... no.

seriously. i am going to throw up, or pee on myself. i can't tell.
i do really well with surprises.  seriously.

Tuesday, October 15, 2013

warmth and loss of it. . .

stepping outside, my cheeks immediately prickle with chill. chilled. flushed.  the toes of my boys, still bare, get cold as they run to the trampoline in the sun.  cold, and they still refuse shoes and socks, and i can't be plunged into the debate any more. when it is cold enough? then a shoe will be found. . .
the sun is still the big housewarming ball in the sky... and the chickens are still laying their bounty - almost at my doorstep, even. 
we've got the wood for a sauna in a big big pile in the driveway, reclaimed even.  call me soule . heh.
the air smells of rancid cat litter and tonight's ballgame will be chased by another egg frittata.  so there.
i have been remiss in writing. i can't find my way to the dilly these days. i'm slowing and storing fat. last winter's blizzard put the fear of the cold into me like nothing else could, and i am a bear gorging on the last of the salmon. far too late in the season, i believe.
the colors are wild here. feeling truly wild, with crimson being something once dreamed, now leafed. even the shadows are green, later tonight blacked.
i am thankful for electricity. i am... i love saying 'icebox'... but the illusory nature of our 'nightlife' does not escape me. how much trouble we cause by staying up past dark.
i think i've got to start taking photos again, but i want my eyes to ache with the color saturation of reality instead. the actual experience, as happening. i know you know.
make friendly with the black and the white of text. or orange and red if we acknowledge the design of a designer unnamed.
see you in the manana.

Thursday, October 3, 2013

flightless bird, here.

i've been wrastling with my own ego a lot these days, lack of it in fact showcasing how much of it is still there.... grammatically challenging sentence there.  i say there is little, but drown in my own self-obsession and naval-gaze, which means there is much. better? ego. what a bitch.

as pertains to the bikeride and my lack of audience and therefore, lack of self-esteem? i've been wondering how much i've really bought into the belief that i am somehow part of the great unwashed multitudes demanding fame and great accolades.  we all believe that we are the center of it all. 
do we?
are there people out there who, in real opposition to the self-centeredness of me and you, feel that they are PART of it all, rather than CENTRAL to it all?  catch my drift. 
nothing new here, but where are those people? how do i get them closer to me so that i can learn from them? or me, closer to them? 

can i stop being scared of strangers long enough to realize there is more shared between us than not? i'm getting notions of that more and more lately. maybe because i've realized i might never move again, and it changes how you look at things, to realize you might get to see the saplings change, the barn fall, your kids' friends grow, the crocus proliferate. . . croci.

i'm reading this whacked out mystery in which the main detective is a Quaker and I'm learning all this stuff about Friends and whatnot. its good, and illuminating, to learn so much about what I'm taking part in on Sundays, and what I've brought my kids into. - called Quaker Silence. can't remember the author.

i'm listening to Karen Armstrong?'s 12 Steps to Compassionate Life in the car as I spend much time every morning doing errands and its also illuminating, and I've only just listened to the preface. shoot.


Tuesday, October 1, 2013


I rode on a bike for twenty-five miles this weekend, as part of a fundraising effort for a group which mentors foster kids and adoptees.  I did the whole thing, without vomit, without a quitdownsitdown.  I kept on keeping on whilst the going was good.  and all that. 
I should be very proud of my self.  part of a larger good, proof of a working body after so many years of inaction.
and then there was the avoidance of the ruts by the side of the road, the cars whizzing by my calves by inches. hello deafie on the road.  next year, i am going to make a sign.

and now i have to deal with the repercussive problems that I've had all along.  Due to a mistake of planning, and an overly excited biking speed, I was finished before my audience arrived to cheer me on.  They were there internally, as the end of the race was one long, slow hill, and I did not want them to see me walking ! and that was powerful for me, the thought of my boys seeing me ride  and that is the only thing that kept my legs circling. the only thing.  who knew i wanted them to see me in a very different light? who knew?

without the external accolades, i am a shambles.  what the hell?! c'mon. am i really still internally 15 years old? i mean, i like to think even my 15 year old self had more bones than that.  does my action really not have wild validation because i don't get pat on the back? shoot.
maybe if i were crippled by pain, and needed lots of backrubs and one of those silver shiny blankets at the end i'd feel more valid.

i am obviously stupid, and i find that slightly offensive.

PLUS, my sister was with me and she does so many of these races that there are many times that her audience is simply her fellow riders and she hasn't spent three days bitching about what it means to her.  she's proud, and moves on. it sucks to have a mentor like that.  SUCKS.