Thursday, March 26, 2015

what caged birds? what?

i'm exhausted. deep bone weary. rainy day chill. so, let that be the baseline for today.

not chirping.

wracking cough, keeps me up all night. back up bitch. back it right up. i even took a hot shower in the middle of the night, when i am so loathing of the shower, i can't even tell you.  call me bath girl. someone, please. its just a little weird.

'woke' up, left before the boys got on the bus, got my in-laws settled and took my mother, who wrecked her ankle yesterday, for a procedure which will tell her if she has cancer again. it was so superfast, i was still choking down my luxurious eggs-at-a-restaurant-alone when they called to say the procedure was finished.  i nearly ran down the waitress in my dash. nearly, but she would have coldcocked me if i had, so we're all good that i didn't.

i keep wanting to say 'supahflyyyyy'.  i'm too tired to fight the impulse.  my kids are going to be PSYCHED when they get off the bus- and when the wee gets up.  i'm hoping my mom wakes in a patient and kind mood, because i don't have any of those. i feel sort of stoned, but without the giggles.

the procedure was really routine, but the ankle busting? not routine, and somehow heightened my inner world (and, i think, my mom's) to a nearly paralyzing emotional seizure.  we say, feel, hear... 'well, if your dad was here.... i don't want to be a burden... if your dad was here...i really resent this ' and we have mother and daughter adjustments on a grand scale, a first 'caretaking', a first allowing 'caretaking'.. . and a whole truckload of fear, resignation riding side saddle, if trucks can have sidesaddle riders.  i'm too tired.

 It was the ankle, way more than the possible cancer scenario, way more than the invasion of the speculum... it was the goddamned ankle, the littlest inconvenience, the straw that broke us.
and spring is not yet enough of a force to stop this spin .


Saturday, March 21, 2015

GAH. you want to hack something?

you wanna hack something?  hack a piece of wood into splinters using an ax that really, in all truth, is too heavy for you.  and while you are basically dropping this incredibly dangerous thing into a stack of wood?  dodge the fucking chickens. -because they are back to living on the porch because it has snown.  ( i assume this is not a word, but it should be. snown.)

big digression:
there aren't any life 'hacks'. just life and we only get through it, some better than others, but we all end up in the same place no matter how hard we work.  better enjoy some of it.

back to the point:
but in my heart of hearts, i know that winter's back has been broken, and so this snown feeling is allright. i know spring is around the corner because i ordered plants to arrive in the mail, and i accept the responsibility of digging holes no-matter- what- is- happening, on the day they arrive.  it'll be good to have a drive, a hole to dig, repercussions to follow.
percussions, drums...
wild jungle calls...
my hubsJ.
my husband wants more from me: more variety in the food i make, more enjoyment of life in general, more gratitude for what i have.

i don't think of myself as a complainer really, so some of this takes me aback.(because i believe he must have heard me complaining, thus, i must be complaining. either that, or he's developed a freaky case of mind-reading which means we are totally doomed. ?)  plus, i hate to cook [its even more complicated than 'hate' and its so lame that i don't really understand my deeply rooted antipathy towards this necessary part of my daily life ]   and cannot easily imagine adding more dishes to my repertoire, unless they come from the freezer section, which would really probably make me feel bad to serve my family. blagh.  i don't really know what the whole deal is with my cooking and the stress i feel about it.   i spend an awful lot of time dealing with food, shopping it, getting it ready, having it lying about for the hungry urchins, prepping meals, setting tables, timing things, and all that.  there's a whole canned goods section in my house, for goodlordsake.
in my house!

there are people in my life who are wonderful cooks, namely most of the people in hubsJ's family, and hubsJ himself.  they seem to love it, get off on the glory of big production meals, feel connections between food and love and sustenance and all that.  they use vegetables and things like beans casually, and to good result.

this is not me.  hubsJ even suggested i take a class.  i wish we were in therapy, because i would so make this worth an episode. ;)

i'm thinking about looking at a cookbook.  this may be the end of the world.

Tuesday, March 17, 2015

unsaid things. maybe better that way.

do you have a whole list of those comebacks you could'nt spit out fast enough?  do you have a whole list of those funny things that would've made you feel like a rockstar?  yeah, i do.
i have a whole list of things i never typed here, and i'm waiting to find those papers to include them here and challenge you to do something with them.  i thought they were good, but just couldn't 'work' them into something else, they were flatout standalones.  they are down below, there, i found them when moving shit from place to place to change what is empty.

do you decorate your house based on children's programming?  i do.  i take my cues from little bear and the waltons... we go for minimal in our dreams, but we go for empty spaces in a big, big way in reality.  i might (literally) be the only person who can identify what is an empty space, though. my standards for size are quite low.

ooh, i found the unsaid bits i was thinking of:

hurry-home internals.    - what do you think of that? boy, i think it rich .

when there is an empty space and a wardrobe door has room to creak, there are inner upon inner worlds available to me.     - oh yeah, some narnia ... 

squall squall squall, pen, DO MORE! i'm watching the young cat wrestle the rug and it seems his squall is play. mine seems so searching and coastguards jumping into rough seas and I am deeply tired of rescue orange-        ha!

salt is only romantic when you have something to compare it to, which it is not.     (salt is romantic? really? ) 

no damn apricot here.    (again, ha! )

so? isn't it good to find the unsaid bits?  they each have this certain something i like about them.  i think we should take it as a personal challenge to insert them into something we say or write in the next weeks, it would be a shared intimacy ...and a secret funny.... go on.

Friday, March 13, 2015

Long Haul, in bits.

well, so a laptop returns to my lands, the dirt is peeking fretfully from beneath the snowpiles, and 'maybe' seems to have more import, more possibility.  today is friday, the boys have a half day so we, me and the littlest, are home in pajamas til they get off the bus in a few hours.  caillou, the strange bald pebble of a boy who whines incessantly, is on and i am here, typing. get that? typing, as in blog posting.  as always, with no editing and self-checking, so for that, i apologize.
i had thought my writing course would inspire me to post but... nah.  i think the snow and cold wore me thin, took away some of the illusions i had about my own self-reliance and ability to 'hole up'.  we've got two cars but only one is a strong snow-driving vehicle so most of the days hubsJ took the good and i was literally home-bound.  too cold to play outside for very long, we did a lot of television and watched every harry potter movie that there is, except the last book's worth, as we don't have it and i betcha a lot of money its more for me than for them.  darkness man.
we had a basketball tournament, which eldest's team won, so that was good.  i do so love basketball.
uhm. lots of snow.
middle boy has quit boyscouts and started swimming. can't tell you how happy i am. and truth? i just stopped taking him to boyscouts, it was my choice entirely and not his.  man, i hated that experience. like hateful hate hate.
repetition does not always communicate anything.
woodstoves are my new favorite sensual pleasure. really, the connection you feel to the world when you are tending a fire is deep and so very human. warmth, warmth warmth. warmthwarmth.
my nose is running over because i keep going outside in my pajamas, testing the air, breaking ice from the ground, freeing the waters to flow away.  we've had leaks, we have ceiling patterns of water making itself cozy as it passes through.  i'm fine with that.  the birds have been fed, i went to a garden talk on how to plant for birds, bees and butterflies. i bought a house for mason bees, which is waiting a path to the compost heap and then will be UP. we have a cardinal couple that i watch for obsessively.  the trashbag that i threw out the door a month ago has been uncovered, animal-attacked and cleaned up.  snow wants to go, it does. it has its own feelings about the sun.
 because our chickens are free-rangers, we've let them out most days unless it was single digits or too deep to walk their little dinoclaws through.  the only sheltered place has been the front porch and so they've been here all winter, shitting all over the porch and generally leaving the place looking and smelling like a zoo which is questionably caring for its denizens.  craaphole.
i hope i'm back in the saddle again, but can't say for sure.  i'm going to put on another caillou episode and swing my way through blog reading, so be writing something for me, yah?  go on.