Wednesday, December 21, 2016

Solstice wishes

Happy Winter Solstice! 

It is the longest night of the year. 

It has been said by some Druid-y types that the solstice is the most important day, as it is the day we welcome in the new sun. 

Starting tomorrow, although it is hard to tell, the days will slowly start to get longer and longer and soon enough we will return to sunnier, warmer times. 

There will be dark days ahead I am sure. 

But on this, the day of the longest night of the year, I want to take a moment to send much light and warmth to my loved ones. 

I am truly blessed and grateful to have you all in my life. 

Thank you.

(and I just puked a little in my mouth....)

Happy Solstice!

Saturday, December 10, 2016

Thinking Bout Barb

I meant to write something post election and I am still trying to figure that out.

 I am skipping that this morning in favor of writing about my mother.

Today marks the 15th anniversary of Barbara's passing.

I have been without a mother for quite some time now.

I have been thinking about her quite often lately.

I remember her at the same age I am today.

I know that she wanted more and it just never happened for her.

I like to think that I got a lot of really great things from my mom.

My mother, Barbara, was a good person, a wonderfully kind person.

Barbara was accepting of anyone and everyone.

Barbara would give you the shirt off her back.

In that way, I wish that there were more people out there like my mother.

We all have inherited many of the same traits that our parents possessed.

Some of them no so desirable.

Barbara lacked the confidence in her self so much, that all she could do was watch TV and read books that she never finished.

There were so many things that she couldn't do or just never did.

My mother was afraid to try.

Our lives are drastically different but at the same time, the similarities are there and very striking.

I realized that recently and it scared me.

Those traits, those behaviors, have sneaky ways.

Before you know it, you will realize that the same things that held your parents back from actually having a happy life are the very same things that have been holding you back as well.

My life and the way my mother's life ended up are very different but at the same time, the similarities are there and very striking.

I'm working on that.

I've been working on that.

Consider it my life's project.

So I ask you, today, the day of Barbara's passing, to think of her if you could.

Be extra kind today

Be extra tolerant and accepting of the people around you.

And maybe, take a look at your own, sneaky patterns of behavior in your life that are holding you back or hurting you or someone close to you.

Think about fixing them.

I think Barbara would like that.


Tuesday, September 27, 2016

Gourd Cult

Repeat after me:

When you look into the display of decorative squash, 

The decorative squash looks into you.

You do not choose the mutant gourd.

The mutant gourd chooses you.

You do not reap the freaky-assed harvest.

The freaky-assed harvest reaps you.

Happy Fall.

Wednesday, September 21, 2016

3 word Motivation

**Please forgive my typos as this is a pre-work post**

I hate sports.

When people first start dating, they usually will try to hide some of their more unsavory characteristics from their partner, at least for the first six months.

B hid a thing or two.

I hid my hatred for sports.

It started when I was little. I grew up in a house of sports fans.

If there was a game on, my shows, my cartoons would be changed to whatever stupid sport was on.

I decided then and there, that I would never like sports.

Purely out of spite and stubbornness. (I get this trait from Horst)

Lo and behold, I married a sports fan.

I read a lot now.

With all the sports, TV is often unavailable.

But I'm not here to talk about my dislike of any and all sports.

I am here to talk about the stubbornness thing.

It has been a bad few months.

You know that old saying, "No good deed goes unpunished"

That happened and I was given a task that I did not want, do not like and really has brought me down in many ways.

My anxiety has been through the roof.

I am very unhappy in my present situation.

I have a long term plan and changes are coming soon.

But not soon enough for the way that I have been feeling.

(By the way, this does not have anything to do with my domestic situation, still happy with B, despite his love of sports... You can do the math, if you like)

The past few days have been the worst,  I was low.

I was done, I was so close to walking away.

It is definitely not the time to do that, but I couldn't bear another second.

Then, this little feeling grew.

An angry defiant little feeling

It blossomed overnight.

I am for the first time, ready to face the day without a knot of anxiety in my stomach.

Sometimes, when you have exhausted all of your energy that comes from the usual channels, you can find new resolve to stay the course from anger, spite and stubborn resolve.

Today, as I go about my business, doing what I have to do, I have three little words that will keep me going.

If you are at your wits end, ready to throw in the towel, and you have to just keep going because there is no other choice, please feel free to use them as well.

In your head, out loud, up to you.

Today I just have to keep going, this next year, this last year,  I'm still here,

because fuck you.

Friday, September 16, 2016

Pride and Time

How enjoyable my day off will be, is measured by how many early morning work calls I receive and whether or not I get shit on my hands while picking up after the dogs during our early morning walk.

I got the call but managed to avoid the shit.

Barely, but I did it.

I have that new puppy. Time for me is now measured in the increments that Klaus is in his crate and when he is not.

On Sunday August 28th, 10:00 am, I dropped Horst off at the airport for his 12:20 flight to Chicago. He was off to visit my brother and his family for two weeks.

Later on that evening, I shaved his cat.

The fur on her back had tangled into a turtle shell shaped mass that could have probably stopped bullets if I let it go any longer.

On Sunday September 4th,  B and I spent the entire day dusting and steam cleaning the rugs in his apartment.

This task cannot be completed while Horst is present, so once a year, we take the opportunity to do so while he is away.

Here is a list of the things I found:

  • an electric cat comb. 
  • A "self-groomer" that consists of an oversized pipe cleaner attached to a wooden base. The feline is compelled through magic or otherwise, to walk under the device and groom itself, leaving the pet owner to do many other useful things things with the 2 minutes that would have been wasted running a brush through the cat's fur. 
  • 3 sandwich press machines
  • 3 electric skillets
  • a myriad of other devices that seem to exist to either save time or somehow make the user's life easier. These items best not be named lest I write the wrong thing and invoke a malevolent deity.
  • His used Ziplock bag collection-which he hid in a different spot this year, thinking I wouldn't find them.
  • Assorted sizes of old and stained Rubbermaid containers. I discarded them in the hopes that it would encourage him to use the brand new containers he has languishing in his cupboards.
  • A small population of grain weevils living in his pet food bin. This was a change from last year, in which a small civilization of Carpet Beetles had established itself inside the used Ziplock bin.
All of the gadgets mentioned were either beneath a thick layer of dust or still brand new, encased in their original packaging. 

I believe now that Horst has been heavily influenced by the Jetson's and wishes that we lived in a world in which we can press a button and presto! our tasks are completed by a machine.

Between Aug 28th and Horst's return on September 10th, B and I logged in at least 16 hours of cleaning, cat care and grooming as well as shopping for Horst's apartment. We spent an estimated $200.00 on new pillows for his couch, cat items and cleaning equipment. 

But all in all, I will say that the whole process was far less painful then last year's apartment purge.

Just like last year, we did not receive a "thank you" for any of these things. 

That is fine. 

I learned a long time ago that this is not due to Horst being unkind, but because it is very awkward and difficult for him to either express gratitude or to apologize. 

He is a prideful man.

On Saturday, September 10th, I had to apologize for throwing away his dirty tupperware. We had left Horst with only subpar containers in which to make his vast amounts of deli salads. 

On Sunday, September 11th,  I passed beyond the rage membrane to a sort of murderous serenity while Horst explained to me at length, over Sunday dinner, why you can't run a dehumidifier in a basement with the window open on a humid day. (The window was closed the whole time the device was running in his apartment, I will add.)

Horst loves feeling superior. As I said, he is a prideful man.

Nothing gives him greater joy than to grasp an opportunity to point out a problem or where you went wrong.

He also absolutely loves it when you have to ask him for something.

Perhaps when it gets closer to Thanksgiving I will tell you all about how I purchase cranberry sauce out of spite.

On Tuesday, September 13th, I hung my head and made my walk of shame down to the basement to fetch one of his gadgets. 

You see, as I was cooking, a piece of kielbasa fell between the stove and the wall. In moving the stove, my toast inside a toaster salt and pepper shaker fell behind the stove. 

The only way to retrieve it was with Horst's special rubber tipped grabber tongs. 

You have no idea how much joy it would bring to my father, knowing that I needed one of the same  gadgets that I always complain about. 

My joy rests in never ever letting him know.

Sunday, March 27, 2016

Rule of Thumb Vol 1

Here is some good, solid advice.

If you are about to make an observation about another person and feel the need to start with a disclaimer sentence, in which you have to say something along these lines:

"If I tell you something, promise you won't get mad..."

"Promise me your feelings won't be hurt..."

"I don't want to upset you but..."

The tiny moment before you begin that sentence is the best time to stop talking. 

Monday, February 01, 2016


Happy Imbolc!

Traditionally celebrated on February 1st, although sometimes earlier or later, depending on the onset of lambing season and the blooming of blackthorn.

It is a day for cleaning and purification, visits to holy wells and the lighting of candles to symbolize the return of Spring.

The goddess Brigid is invited into the home-she representing the coming days of light. Meals of traditional foods are set aside for her and occasionally a bed will be made for the Goddess as well.

Like Groundhog day, which comes tomorrow, it is also a day to divine the weather for the coming weeks and whether or not there will be an early Spring.

Legend says, the Cailleach, divine hag, dark opposite to Brigid's light, will make the weather on this day bright and sunny, if she wishes to make Winter last longer.

The nice weather allowing her to gather firewood for the rest of the cold season.

If the weather on Imbolc is foul, it means the Cailleach is asleep and Winter will be over soon.

Judging by the beautiful weather today, we are surely fucked.

Sunday, January 31, 2016

3 Distinct Things on a Thursday

Sometimes there are things that I really want to write about on here.

Then life gets on the way and they remain unwritten.

Please bear with me guys-my writing muscle has become very flabby over the past few weeks.

I really wanted to do this post on Thursday, January 28th.

There were three very distinct things about that day.

By the time I got out of work Thursday, I was a quivering mass of tired jelly that still had to make dinner and walk the dog.

By the time I was done, it was straight to bed to read comics for me.

(Who recommended that I read Saga? I can't remember who, but I love that person.)

Friday I worked again and there were important things to do.

Saturday-more work? Yes, please and thank you.

Now that you have heard all of my lame ass excuses,

Here is Thursday's post for today.

The 30th anniversary of the Challenger shuttle disaster was on Thursday.

It is interesting how an anniversary or getting news of someone's passing can invoke such a strong image of the past.

I was almost 12 and in the 6th grade.

Fifth and sixth grade were the height of my "school phobia" years.

Some therapist actually "diagnosed me" with school phobia.

Not entirely true.

I had (still have) anxiety issues involving anticipation, coupled with the fact that almost (almost) all of the people I went to school with were complete assholes.

I was in my parent's bed watching TV, having been successful in playing sick so that I didn't have to go to school again.

I watched the crash over and over that day, not quite believing that all of those astronauts would be found dead.

Back then my family had 3 channels on the bedroom TV.  6, 10, 12 and then the UHF channels, but I can't remember how many we had of those, maybe 2 or 3.

I remember growing increasingly impatient with the constant barrage of news coverage on almost all of those channels.

There appeared to be no escape from the bad news.

The next day at school one of my teachers assigned us to follow the story and write about it.

Much to my dismay.

Needless to say, I was not all that emotionally invested in the situation.

Blame it on my age at the time.

I have never been much of a current events/current disaster person.

I can't really stomach the whole: " Let us hunker down around the TV while the news vomits up the most recent catastrophe".

Over and over and over.

That's my husband's job.

He hunkers and watches. I do other things.


Buddy Cianci died Thursday.

He did a lot of great things for Providence.

I started taking the bus up every weekend to Providence, to visit friends and see bands, about 30 years ago, around the same time of the Challenger disaster.

At the time, Providence was a wasteland of train tracks and empty buildings.

But the music scene was amazing.

The city is pretty amazing now.

Downtown where the train tracks once were is a beautiful park and river walk.

We used to cross over the tracks to get from the bus station to the old Living Room.

The music scene now feels like a barren wasteland.

All of the clubs are gone for the most part. Bands play sporadically.

It's really sad.

Back to Buddy.

I don't do politicians. I don't do politics.

That is my husband's job as well.

He keeps up to date on all of the political happenings.

I do something else.

I embrace a George Carlin-esqe view of politicians and politics and I leave it there.

I try to vote for the best candidate but --refer back to George Carlin on voting--.

I ask my husband and he tells me who to vote for.

I never met Buddy, although I met his daughter on several occasions.

Hearing of Buddy's death brought out more memories.

I was fortunate enough to see both of Shep Fairey's doctored Buddy Cianci billboards, first hand.

The Andre the Giant one.

It took a bit to remember what happened or what I was doing the day I saw it.

But it came back.

I was on the bus driving past.

It was brilliant-I laughed out loud.

I was visiting School One that day.

I went to School One in 88-89.

Due to finances, I couldn't go back to school the following year and I didn't go to school for the first 6 months of my Sophomore year.

That day was right before I had to go back to Middletown High School.

I think I had to start the next day even.

I was so sad.

But that billboard...

My friend Heather remembered Buddy's daughter Nicole, who also went to School One, running about trying to find out who did that to her father's billboard.

Everyone knew it was Shep, not a one said a word.

I remember it now.

I remember Nicole. I didn't speak to her that day.

I honestly never liked her. But I won't speak ill and all. I didn't really know her.

I also had the privilege of seeing Shep's second Buddy Cianci billboard.

I happened to be up in Providence overnight at a friend's and I was walking down College Hill to the bus station to catch a bus to Newport.

It was a Roger William's Zoo billboard featuring the naked mole rat.

It said "The Naked Mole Rat-As if being a rat was bad enough"

There was a picture along side the words of a large, pink, naked mole rat.

Someone (Shep, of course) had pasted a picture of Buddy Cianci over the face of the mole rat.

 I wish I had a camera. I laughed all the way to the bus station and for the entire bus ride home.

Any one have a picture of it??

I've been searching with no success.


I offered G fifty dollars if she would dress as Lemmy for Halloween

She said no.

I told her that I had all the stuff to do it and she could totally pull it off.

I told her that she would walk around on Halloween and people would be yelling out "LEMMY!!!"

I told her it would be the greatest.

Can you see it? The hair. The scowl. They could be related.

I shoved my phone in the face of G's best friend, who was watching the entire exchange with a slightly alarmed look on her face.

As she does when I go on one of my silly rants.

"C'mon, don't you think she could pull it off?"

"I..I don't know?"

From there I went into a long winded sermon about how awesome it was when I was growing up.

For the entire time that I rambled on, I had their attention.

The shows and the music.

The bands that would come and hang out in the crowd after they played.

The bands that I met.

There was a place to be and things to do-every damn weekend.

I came in probably at the beginning of the end in many ways, but it was still such an amazing time to grow up.

I can't even do it justice here, how it was.

Maybe some day I can explain it better, but those of you who grew up with me, during that time, get it.

It was amazing.

The music in those dingy, smelly clubs gave us all a place to be.

An identity.

A distraction, however brief, from the bullshit of childhood and young adulthood.

I wish my kids could have even the tiniest bit of that.

(Minus the drinking and other things in the parking lot before the show of course).

Music saves.

Punk rock music saved my life.

I have no doubt.

Music still saves my life.

Every day.

Lemmy was the embodiment of that for me.

I think he was for a lot of people.

Thursday, Jan 28th was the month anniversary of his passing.

Recalling the Challenger disaster, a politician's death, even the very sad death of David Bowie,

Pales in comparison to how gutted I felt when I heard the news.

I'm really sad that I never got to see Motorhead live.

I'm going to steal a quote from my friend Brendan, who always writes this when someone passes,

It's fitting and it's my favorite.

Safe travels Lemmy, I'm so sad to see you go.

I'd also like to say with all the respect, admiration and love that I can muster for a person that I have never met,

You will remain, always, the one and only musician that I would have thrown my panties on stage for.

Friday, January 01, 2016

Happy New Year

Please note the diaper, what every Times Square New Year's Eve reveler needs

I ended the old year with a really crappy day.

Not a complete loss mind you, but the day was filled with short tempers and work, a lost wallet (not mine thankfully) and a very late dinner-followed by more work and a bit too much sugar, once I located a nearly forgotten bag of Hershey kisses.

I did manage to listen to a lot of Moorhead and watch Better Off Dead, (nothing makes a crap day better than Ricky's mom).

I dozed in a chair and woke up just enough to watch the ball drop as the crowd of people in Times Square who were unable to relieve themselves for the past 12 hours cheered.

It made me laugh imagining that everyone in that crowd was wearing adult undergarments, which had to be fairly heavy by midnight.

Cheers to the poor sanitation workers who probably had to clean up many bottles filled with yellow liquid. (I read that there are no bathroom facilities in Times Square while you wait in one spot for hours to see the ball drop-it's amazing what people will put themselves through.)

I went to bed listening to the sounds of my asshole neighbors lighting either bombs or fireworks outside my window.

Before I slipped into slumber, I wished every last one of them to be cursed with inconvenient and intense anal itch forever and ever.

Last year wasn't a great year, but it was ok. My word for last year was "finish" and I managed to finish a totally crappy first draft of a book, so there was that-I have probably written another 2 books of revisions but I am ok with that. A few people I knew and was fond of passed on, some people were born.

I have bees by my front door, which was probably the best part of the year. Along with that new Mad Max movie.

I finished a few short stories. I read many books. I was able to keep a journal consistently. I rediscovered a lot of bands I used to love. I had a fangirl moment where my favorite author personally recommended a whole bunch books for me to read via Twitter.

I broke my foot and my job is worse than ever. But it is what it is right? I have a job, I make decent money and it serves a good purpose-although being on call 24-7 means there is no escape.

For 2016-there will be change. That something that's gotta will give. Straws will break the back of many camels. Whether it is good or not so great-there will be some changes I am sure. My current status quo is too meh at the moment.

My word for the 2016 year is "no".

Also in this coming year, I will try and be a little less cynical, especially with those around me. I will try and appreciate all the gifts that my loved ones bring to my life.

Like Horst for example, living with my father gifts me with a whole new appreciation for linoleum or concrete floors, especially ones with drains in the middle. Yes and hoses too. (see my Labor Day weekend live tweet event in which Brian and I cleaned his apartment)

I started off this morning right.

I was up early. I finished and submitted my short story to the wonderful writing group that I belong to.

I wished a Happy New Year to my beehives by knocking on the wood with my ear pressed to the side-I was greeted with angry buzzing from inside. It's music to my ears-they are still alive. I am hoping for them to make it through the winter-I'm hoping for more bees this year. And maybe a bigger garden-as long as I don't break any bones again.

I am writing this-I miss writing posts-this will be a year of more posts and more writing. I have missed you guys.

Before I go, here is my annual New Years Day list of books I have read this past year. There are asterisks for the really good ones-I may try to put all of the books on GoodReads and Pinterest but for now, this will do. I enjoyed all of the books-I no longer have time for ones that don't interest me-I just don't finish them and I didn't bother to include them.

1. My True Love Gave To Me *
2. The War of Art***
3. The Darkest Part of The Forest
4. The Troop
5. The Mime Order
6. The Deep-actually I lied-I quit this one halfway through
7. The Bone Clocks
8. Trigger Warning ***
9. The Color of Magic**
10. The Wee Free Men***
11. The Wind Through The Keyhole**
12. Dragons Of Autumn Twilight (this was a re-read from when I was younger-plain awful-I lied again-I still read crappy books to the end sometimes)
13.The Beastkeeper
14. The Spirit Thief
15. The Gospel Of Loki ******
16. The Interrogation of Ashala Wolf
17. Winter smith**
18. When The Red Sea Rises
19. The Hellhound Heart
20.The Scarlet Gospels
21. The Goblin Emperor *****
22. A Darker Shade of Magic
23. I Shall Wear Midnight ***
24. House of Sand and Secrets
25. Get In Trouble ***
26. North American Lake Monsters**
27. Archivist Wasp
28. One good Dragon Deserves Another
29. Wyrd Sisters *****
30. Witches Abroad **********
31. Vicious
32. Runemarks
33. The Light Fantastic
34. The Song of Achilles ********
35. Howl's Moving Castle *******
36. The Fifth Season *******
37. The Traitor Baru Comorant ****
38. Fables 20
39. Fables 21
40. Brief Lives (Sandman)
41. The Wake (Sandman)
42. Preacher
43. Don Juan (the Carlos Castaneda one)
44. Rot and Ruin
45. Cramps The Yule Lord (not as good I sincerely wished it would be)
46. Lips Touch Three Times *********
47. Bazaar of Bad Dreams.

I am also halfway finished with "Remember Why You Fear Me" which is a fantastic book of short stories.

There were a bunch that I started but didn't finish because I ran out of time on the library Kindle thingamabob and others that I couldn't get into.
I'm going to shoot for at least 52 but maybe 52 next year. I have a huge "to-read" list but welcome any more ideas.

What was your favorite? Book music movie or whatever.

I hope you had many favorite things last year

 I wish for you all to have a coming year full of many more favorite things.

Happy New Year!!!