Don't Stop Believing

Don't Stop Believin' by Journey came on this morning as I was driving the kids to school.

A few weeks ago, bored during a hockey game, I forced her into a duet when the same song came on.

"G!" I exclaimed, turning the volume up, "It's our song!"

After singing along loudly for a few verses, I informed her that I was planning on playing this song at  top volume every time I picked her up from any where.  I told her it will get to the point where if any of her friend's hear that song in the distance, they will say, "Here comes G's mother!"

I looked over at her and removed the hand closest to her from the wheel to ward off any sudden blows and reminded her that it was against the rules to hit the driver.

"I am punching you in my head." was her curt reply.

Happy New Year!

We started out New Years Eve Day with a trip to Bass Pro and plans for more later things to do later in the evening.

Here is Von posing with the turtles of Bass Pro.

We had an excellent time shutting down the people selling cheap vacations that involve sitting in on a time share promo.

We endured the time share selling rodeo back in June and won't be doing that again anytime soon, thank you very much.

Happily, Brian and I are now quite immune to the "hard sell" after an incident several years ago where we ended up with several well-doctored family portraits on Irish linen that are sitting in various locations of our house collecting dust.

One asshole even tried to refer to me as "young lady" in order to get me to speak to him.

Refer to me as "young lady" and I will definitely not buy your product

But I will definitely fantasize about punching you in the money maker.

So we started at Bass Pro and ended here:

Does Von know how to party or what?

Just looking at the size of that bag of fluids makes me want to void. 

So all joking aside, and I know this smacks of typical social media overshare, but the reason why I am in fact sharing this is because look.

Look how quickly things can take a turn.

Shit like this can happen in a matter of seconds.

I am fortunate as is Von and our family. We honestly thought he was having a stroke. Turned out to be a kind of migraine that has similar symptoms.

He is OK. We made it home just before midnight.

Von rang in the New Year sound asleep and I rang it in at my usual post, sleeping on the couch.

So folks, remember how quickly life can take a turn and if you think you have it bad now, just wait a few minutes.

Appreciate anything that you have that you can appreciate.

Especially your loved ones.

So to start off the New Years I would like to say to all of my loved ones who are reading this-

"I love you very very much to all of you out there that I am so fucking fortunate to have in my life. I love you and appreciate the shit out of you. Thank you for putting up with me."

And I love the rest of you just for being here.

And now we got that out of the way, back to my traditional New Years Day Posting

I did not read as many books as I would have liked to this year.

I read a lot of crap books which I am almost embarrassed to list, I think it was the state of my mind at the time.

Like the time I read all of the 50 Shades of Grey books and blamed it on having the Lyme disease.

I will blame work stress on this year's crappy choices.

Next year I hope to make some changes and again be able to have more time to read.

I gotta warn you though, next year probably 50% of what will be on the list will be bee related books as I am now actively studying so I can try for a Master Beekeeper certification at EAS next summer.

 2016 Reading List

1. Sex Tips from Rock Stars
2. Saga vol 1******
3. Can We Talk About Something More Pleasant?*** (Got a hoarder in your family? Read this-you are not alone.)
4. Saga vol 2******
5. Sandman Overture
6. White Line Fever
7. Saga vol 3******
8. Saga vol 4******
9. Saga vol 5******
10. Revival
11. The Green Mile-The Two Dead Girls
12. The Green Mile-The Mouse on The Mile
13. The Green Mile-Coffey's Hand
14. The Green Mile-Night Journey
15. The Green Mile-The Bad death of Edward Delacroix
16. The Green Mile-Coffey on The Mile
17. The Library At Mount Char-********I re-read this book 3 times for a total of 4 
18. A Gathering Of Shadows
19. Come Closer
20. Fuck It
21. Whole 30 
22. Ten Grand vol 1***
23. Ten Grand vol 2***
24. Equal Rites*******
25. Ten Grand vol 3***
26. Wyrd Sisters********
27. The Ballad of Black Tom
28. The Art of Asking
29. Remember Why You Fear Me 
30. In a Dark Dark Woo
31. Saga vol 6******
32. The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms**
33. Honeybees and Their Maladies
34. Me Before You
35. The City of Mirror
36. Court of Fives***
37. The Devourers-******** read this one 2x
38. The Queen of The Tearling******* I read this one 2x
39. The Poisoned Blade
40. Obelisk Gate
41. The Invasion of The Tearling-*******I read this 2x
42. Redemption In Indigo*********
43. Brooklyn
44. The Sting of The Wild********-I love this guy
45. Dark Harvest
46. Jaran***
47. The Beauty vol 1
48. The Golem and The Jinni******

So actually, if you count me re-reads I read 54 books for the year. 

Not too bad for a busy lady. 

I would say my hands down favorites for the year were The Library At Mount Char,  The Devourers and Redemption and Indigo

Followed by the Tearling Books and Sting of The Wild. 

And if you get a chance for fuck's sake please start reading Saga (I have them all. If I like you and trust you to keep my babies safe until you return them, I will let you borrow them).

Happy and Healthy New Years

Be sure to enjoy and appreciate these last 20 days!

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!

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.


 

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.

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.

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.

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. 

Imbolc

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.

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.

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!!!

Airport

The thing to know about my eldest daughter is that when she is excited and nervous, she becomes a dick. 

The thing to know about me, is that when I am tired and hungry orwhen you talk to me while I am driving (it is my favorite thinking time) I become a dick

The car making its way through early morning traffic to Boston, so Lyd could catch a flight, was full of dicks.

After parking in the lot and finding where the fuck we were supposed to be, we limped our way to her terminal. Driving so far hurts my still healing foot.

Lyd is afraid of escalators and we only had the escalator option at one point. I won't deny that I was frustrated and did refer to the escalator as a "motherfucking escalator" as I urged her to get on it.

The other escalators we had to take had a steep stair option running along side them. While taking the escalator, when I passed Lyd as she trudged up the stairs, it was very difficult for me not to smile at her and give her the finger as I smoothly moved past her and up.

I didn't do it, but the thought made me laugh. The laughter turned my morning around. I stopped feeling like a dick.

It has been a rough summer in many ways despite her any achievements. Sometimes I firmly believe that the human animal is wired for hardcore parenting for about 16 years. After that you really start to understand why some creatures eat their offspring. 

I have been hardcore parenting Lyd for 21 years at the end of this month.

I am sitting in a little cafe overlooking the plane she is on while I write this. She will be gone for a week and it will be a much needed break for all of us. 

I will sit here until the plane takes off. Although I need this break, although I am tired and although have entertained the thought of driving her off in a snarling rage or even perhaps consuming her (actually no) I will never stop being her parent. 

So I sit here and wait

Balls

In some traditions, at a birth, an important family member will whisper some special first words into the child's ear.

Usually they are certain prayers or words of welcome.

At this moment in my life I would not be at all surprised if the first words to be reverently uttered into my newborn ear was the phrase,

"Deflated balls."

Seriously, all I have been hearing about for the past several months, almost constantly, has to do with Tom Brady and the deflated balls.

I have become a pro at conversational detachment-I am Horst's daughter after all.

If a person makes mention of Minecraft you tube videos, Star Wars the Old Republic, any sport, politics or whenever Horst starts to talk,  my brain automatically defaults into detachment mode.

I may look interested. I will nod in all the right places, but in my head I will be doing other things, creating stories, planning a hair washing or praying to whatever deity that may be listening that the speaker will be stricken with a sudden case of pharyngitis.

I believe that this is why after all these months of deflated ball talk, it was just last night during dinner, B at it again about Tom's deflated balls, I finally put two and two together and snickered.

"It's not funny!" B snarled icily.

Months of enduring talks about deflated balls in silence,  I laugh for the first and only time.

He will not even give me that.

In my family, hearing loss is common later in life.

I do so look forward to my dotage.

Hamming

Some fun quotes from the last few days.

"G, you haven't lived until you've peed in a parking lot!"

"I don't think I can have faith in a God who made monkey asses so red."

"Ham me!"*

*B has very large hands. I have often said that when he rubs sunblock onto my shoulders and back it's like being slapped repeatedly on the back with a couple of wet ham steaks. Every year, during vacation, getting ready for the beach, I hand B a bottle of sunblock turn around and tell him to "Ham me!"

Brian says it's still not funny after all these years but I disagree.

Hello Again

We are on vacation again. Back in NJ for the final trip of the summer. 

My broken foot, though very stiff, is healing well. A week from this coming Monday it will be back to work for me after being out for over 2 months. 

I really need to see about winning the lottery or becoming the sole beneficiary of some wealthy old dowager. 

I like not working.

The kids are enjoying their last week of unlimited screen time. The weather is beautiful, the grass is green and the air is fresh. 

They are holed up in my mother in law's office, which is also serving as their bedroom for the week, staring intently at their screens. 

We dragged them to the beach earlier so they feel perfectly justified in burning their brains out on their devices.

To keep them on their toes, aka. to completely annoy the shit out of them, I walk into their room every 10 minutes and say "I just wanted to tell you both good luck, we're all counting on you."

http://youtu.be/SmHeP9Sve48

They are forbidden to swear aloud while at Grandmom's

Let's see how far I can push it.

The 4th and the 24th

The Fourth of July has to be my least favorite holiday.

Crowds and explosions put me into a full blown panic.

Last night, while driving slowly through a congested neighborhood looking for a good parking spot to watch fireworks, I was reminded of how badly I handled fireworks as a child.

Every year, I would freak the fuck out.

Because of the crowded streets, I was on the verge of freaking out last night. I couldn't stop imagining all of those cars and people suddenly panicking because of a bomb, or maybe aliens or zombies and a wave of humanity and metal crashing over the hood of our car as everyone tried to flee like lemmings.

Needless to say we decided to watch the fireworks at a nice pedestrian bridge several miles away.

Fireworks as a child. Every year I was certain that this would be the one. The year I could actually sit through an entire Fireworks event.

Every year had me bolting for the nearest parking lot to hide under a car.

We would go to this fair around the Fourth. They had games and music. Then fireworks.

My parents would want to go home before, but I always insisted..promised.. that this time I wouldn't freak out.

Memories of running from explosions while a band plays a cover of "Another One Bites The Dust."

I think the music, specifically that number, came on either before or after the fireworks display, but in my memory I flee, terrified, with that song playing.

I recall one year, sitting on a causeway watching them from miles away, still terrified, crouching behind the concrete side of the bridge, barely peeping over.

 I recall another year going to see fireworks with my friends at a park just yards away from the barge where they set them off.
My friend's mother had to sit with me, cowering under a blanket in a lawn chair, talking me through the whole thing. Maybe she heard that I ran for the parking lot. Maybe my parents warned her.

I still don't like them although I can bear them. In this city, around the fourth, it sounds like a war zone. Pick a war zone, any war zone. We put the air condition in around the fourth just to drown out the sound.

You can count on me and every dog in the country freaking the fuck out on the Fourth of July.

Not to mention, people get drunk and do dumb things. Someone left a corn studded diarrhea at the top of my driveway a few years back around the fourth. No, it was not a dog, dogs don't wipe their ass and leave the paper.

And to end my hated holiday rant. Today is the 24th anniversary of Concert Ed puking in my bed.

Here is that story if you want to go back for a read:
http://nicrophorus.blogspot.com/2013/07/concert-ed.html

Ok I don't know how to wrap this up. My foot hurts, I'm getting tired and I just want to wrap this up before the Fourth Of July is officially over.

So if you get a moment, raise a glass, plastic cup or can to Concert Ed. If you can, listen to The Boxer. It was Ed's favorite and he played a mean air cymbal to that song.

If you really felt the urge, vomit in a stranger's bed, blame it on getting bad water instead of the booze and 15 aspirin! that would be really getting into the spirit!

Happy 4th!!

Holding Court

I am on vacation at the moment. The usual New Jersey trip.

This year, I wasn't really looking forward to it so much because of the broken foot.
It's slowly getting better, but I can barely put weight on it. I still need the crutches and the walking boot.

I had a dream last night that I was walking around barefoot.  It was both thrilling and frightening at the same time.

So far, I have been here 2 full days and its quite nice.
B goes out and gets me a Turkish coffee first thing every morning.
There is a patio with a lounge seat and an awning.
I can sit in the shade to read and write while everyone else goes to the beach.

My mother in law has hibiscus plants so I can watch the hummingbirds and butterflies visit and the neighbors have a bird feeder so I get to watch the happenings there as well.

Firefly season is just starting around here. Last night we went up the street after going out for ice cream (yes ice cream every night too) and watched the fireflies in the dark meadow.
To the West Venus and Jupiter were bright above the horizon, colored a wash of pinks and orange.
To the East floated the gibbous moon above the where the ocean was.

Pretty moments that are not to be missed. My favorite thing about June is visiting that meadow at twilight.

I am thankful for another June to enjoy the moment.

Life is precious, people!

It's time for a book review. Book #20 for the year so far.

The Scarlet Gospels by Clive Barker.

Very exciting for us fans of Pinhead and the whole Hellraiser franchise. Movies one and two were really good. That ended it for me as far as the movies. I never realized there were more beyond those.

I have read more than a few of Clive Barker's books over the years and have loved many of them.  Weaveworld and Imagica are on my list of security blanket books and I re-read them at least once every few years.

Scarlet Gospels. First book of the summer for me. I bring two to vacation in New Jersey every year.

I will write this without too many spoilers if I can.

Pinhead. The mighty Cenobite.

Reading Pinhead's inner dialogue and learning that he has motivations, aside from making people who open Lemarchand's box writhe in exquisite pain.

For me,  I can only describe it as (please bear with me)
It was like hearing and then walking in on your ideal person, your perfect God/Goddess, person of your dreams, that you hold in the highest regard, taking a very loud and very messy diarrhea.

You are kind of horrified. You say to yourself, "No. No. No. this doesn't work. Not at all."

They are supposed to be wonderful and amazing, not squatting over the can like everyone else.

But you don't go running out the door because they are who they are.

Your ideal.

They just have become a tiny bit more human, more real so to speak. They have their origins and inner workings and desires,  no matter how gross.

So you stick around and you are happy you did.

They are still really great. Everyone has a bad bout of diarrhea, including you. Then you move on.

In the end, you get some great perspective from some new characters that show up to save the day (not really for those in the book, but for you, the reader).

Everything gets wrapped up nice and neat. There things to ponder on that venture into possible new stories, even if they are only in your head and never written.

 Then you close the book with a contented sigh, satisfied.

Clive Barker-I am so sorry that I doubted you, even for a second.

Pause for a Brief Eulogy

There are certain people who come into your life, for however long, be they friends, lovers or family and by virtue of your relationship with that person, the choices you make because of them,
you are pushed, pulled and shaped into the person that you are today.

Everyone has at least a handful.

Jon was such a person for me.

We briefly dated when I was 16 and he was 19.

I won't go into details except that like many relationships when you are young, it ended very very messy.

Everyone has at least one or two of those, I am sure.

It took years to pull myself out of that experience and I shall spare you the details.

I'm sure some of you who were there are already quite familiar with them.

We had closure though, good closure. We talked one evening a few years afterwards and sorted out our business.

We parted on good terms.

I have not seen Jon for 16 years and only spoke to him occasionally on Facebook.

But when I got the news yesterday that he had died suddenly, it brought me to my knees.

Not literally. I am happy to report that I was in fact, sitting and that was a good thing.

I went to his Facebook page and wrote that I was crying and yelling "Asshole" at the sky for making me feel that way.

I wrote that I was sure that if there was an afterlife, he is there, having a laugh at us all.

I then deleted it-thinking that it's probably not a good thing to refer to the dead party as an asshole.

At least not this early in the game.

There are people in our lives that shape and pull us, leading us to make choices based on our relationships with them.

They make us into the people we are at the moment.

 Everyone has at least a handful, be they friends, lovers or family.

Jon was one of those people for me.

We dated when I was 16 and he was 19.

I say again that I will not go into details except that we were together briefly,  but the aftermath of those months took years to get through.

I last saw him perhaps 16 years ago.

I ran into him at a restaurant while out on a date with the man I ended up marrying. The man who I am still married to and still truly in love with to this day.

But one never forgets first love, no matter how it turns out in the end.

You just don't forget.

I am not entirely comfortable with my reaction when I heard and how I am feeling right now.

My experience of his death will be quite small compared to the others who are close to him, who will miss his presence. Who will feel that empty space.

My heart is heavy for them.

When I called him "asshole" on his page, I meant something else entirely.

What I really meant to say was:

I am really really sad that you are gone.

I truly hope that you were able to find whatever you were looking for.

I regret nothing.

And thank you.

I Read All 3 Fifty Shade Of Grey Books and I am Terrified of Bees- A Confession

Hello!
It has been quite a while..
Since April 1st I believe.
 I think I was writing very sporadically before that.
Ok let's see..Some housekeeping...In order to move on,

I have to satisfy my OCD and will just make a quick mention of a few things so i can be done with them.

What was, what I now refer to as..The Brown Christmas..I puked through Christmas Day and missed the whole shebang.

 I made it through Christmas Eve, managed to gorge myself on, then vomit up, all of my favorite holiday foods, starting at 3am Christmas morning.

 Now I have no idea what the hell we are having for Christmas Eve dinner next year.

Christmas cookies, fruitcake, the same fried pork chops with German macaroni and potato salad I've been having for Christmas Eve for as long as I can remember?

I can't even stand the thought...the smell..of those things now.

If there is a good side, the pressure is off. I realized that it's just a day. A very special day, but nonetheless it is simply a day and it's not the end of the world if it gets missed.

Only its better to be missed in not such a pukey fashion.

The tradition New Years day list of books I read in the past year..

Here is my book list for last year, I'll include authors if I have them-Stars are for the best ones.

1. Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children
2. Hollow City
3. The Coldest Girl In Cold Town-Holly Black
4. The Fault In Our Stars***
5. Sharp Teeth
6. The Girl Who Played with Fire
7. Holes-Louis Sachar
8. Drop Dead Healthy-AJ Jacobs
9. The Forest of Hands and Teeth
10. The Crane Wife-Patrick Ness
11. The Wind Through The Keyhole-Stephen King
12. Insomnia-Stephen King
13. Anna Dressed In Blood
14. Death Poems
15. The Rathbones**** 
16. Orphan Train
17. Dreams of Monsters
18. Daughter of Smoke and Bone
19. Odd and the Frost Giants***
20. Storm of Swords
21. I Am The Beggar Of The World**
22. Under The Wide and Starry Sky
23. The fault In Our Stars-I know..I read it again..shut up...
24. Pretty Monsters****
25. About A Boy
26. Outlander
27. 50 Shades of.....Ok-I feel the need to explain. Last summer, I got sick..It was a suspected case of Lyme Disease. For the two weeks before I got treatment, I felt like complete, utter shit and this crazy brain fog came over me. During that time I read the entire 50 Shades trilogy on my phone. This is what prompted me to seek medical attention as it was a good indication that something was truly wrong. Lyme Disease is a terrible thing. Sudden desire to read 50 Shades should be listed as a symptom.
28. 50 Shades Darker-It's really quite funny how the author uses the phrase, "AAARRRGH!" to describe a woman's sexual pleasure/orgasm. She does it ALL the time in the books.
29. 50 Shades Freed-Ok who am I to judge, just like Stephanie Meyers and the Twilight series, the author, whatshername,  has managed to cash in by pumping out crap for the masses. The people like crap. They supplied it. Good on them. By the way-Gilbert Gottfried reading 50 Shades (Look on You Tube) is magical-check it out.
30. Silver Linings Playbook
31. Islands Of Chaldea-Diana Wynne Jones-(I was heartbroken when I heard about her death-go read Howl's Moving Castle-it's her best)
32. Nice Dragons Finish Last-Rachel Aaron
33. All of the "Y-the Last Man" comic books
34. Horns-book is good but god please skip that movie
35. Monstrous Affections
36. The Bone Season-Samantha Shannon
37. Johannes Cabal, Necromancer
38. Gone Girl

Every year, in June, just before vacation in NJ, I try to rustle up 2 new books to read. Last years choices were meh-

"Under The Wide and Starry Sky" was good, but not June vacation book good. 

I made up for it this year during the February NJ vacation. New Neil Gaiman and Kelly Link short stories.  I felt a lot better.

On my dresser sits the new Clive Barker Pinhead book-"The Scarlet Gospels"
That is waiting for next week and I am waiting for a book I ordered to come in, (The Goblin Emperor-recommended by Kelly Link herself, so it will be good)

This vacation stands to be much better book-wise. 

I need lots of good books to bring with me considering I can't go to the beach because I broke my fucking foot. I plan on eating a lot of ice cream and crutching around the block all week.

But it's ok. I'm out of work, spending a lot of time alone, which has done wonders for my mental health.

I got to watch the Daredevil series and I am having the time to work on editing the book I wrote.

Yeah, I did that too. I'll save it for another time. But the first draft is complete and I am editing and then I shall find an editor and then we will see what happens.

Then, in the meantime I'll find something else to write while I wait to see what happens with that. If you see me staring off into space, oftentimes I'm making up a story or adding to another that I thought of.

I do that often while B is watching sports. He has commented on my interest in watching. I just nod and say, "Uh-huh." while I burn cities in my head and stare blankly at the TV.

So lets talk real quick about bees. 

and wasps. 

There is this thing I have a problem with. It has trickled down to the kids as well, especially G, she was there for that bee incident I'll get to in a moment. 

Imagine two scenarios if you will.

Scenario 1

Kids in the living room watching TV, one calls out to me (I'll be the one in the kitchen, rattling dishes)

"Moooom! There's a wasp in the house!"

"Ok!" I calmly call out. I fetch a wad of paper towels or the jar, I keep a jar handy for these things. 

I calmly locate the insect, trap it and bring it outside to release. 

The kids return to watch TV, I go back to rattle some more dishes. 

Scenario 2

Kids in the living room watching TV, one screams out to me (I'll be the one in the kitchen, rattling dishes)

"THERE'S A FUCKING BEE IN THE HOUSE!!!"

Me: "AARRRGGHHHH! (yeah just like Anastasia Steele in 50 Shades..see what I did there!) 

I burst in with a newspaper, chair or the cat, waving it frantically until I strike the bee down with whatever weapon I grabbed and beat on it, double, triple, tap, to make sure that it is dead dead dead.

Messed up right?
Wasps trapped in the house are so much more likely to sting than a bee.

And I'm a fucking beekeeper.

Right?

So any of you who have read my blog for the past how ever many years remember the time that my hive was vandalized and my attempts at putting it back together ended with me getting stung a number of times on my feet (I still find the hot cankle thing really funny), some girl who worked in the offices next to my hive getting stung on the eyelid, my daughter getting traumatized and me having to move my hives out to the woods.

Before the incident-I was really comfortable around bees. I would go into a hive gloveless no problem, putter around the outside of it without a veil or a thought. 

After the incident, my hives were moved really far away. A half hour drive at best.

I only went out there to work the hives, and when I did, I had the veil, suit, the whole nine yards. It was tough too, whenever I went to open a hive up, my heart would race, I'd start to sweat. Once I was in and doing stuff I was fine, but the anticipation killed me. My hive was pretty defensive too-always pissed off-I forgot that there was such a thing as gentle bees.
It has gotten better over time. I don't flake out as much when I am suited up and working.

But, aside from actually working a beehive, I did not regularly spend time around beehives.
So I never again  got used to the regular day to day being around bees aside from cracking open a hive which is always bound to piss somebody in there off.

There is a bit of a difference.

But I have stuck with it as most of you know-I still have bees,
I am not giving up beekeeping-there is no argument, don't even bring it up. Not happening.

I love them. I even take care of bees for someone as a side job.

But something about the buzzing of a bee in my ear. Or even the sound of an agitated bee nearby.

It sets me off, it's an actual PTSD trigger for me-
fucked up, right?

Stick a wasp around my face and I will casually swat it away.

A bee?

Forget it, my reaction is kind of comical.  Especially considering I'm a beekeeper.

My heart starts thumping, I get short of breath, the sweat machine kicks in.

Full blown flight mode.

This past winter was a bad winter for all of us. It was really bad for the bees. I had 3 good hives going into the Winter.

Two hives died and I was left with one I thought was queenless.

I gave it to some beekeeper friends to combine with a weak hive with a queen. They have helped me so much in the past and present so that basically, my bees are their bees.

 I convinced B that we should try to keep some bees at the house. To minimize driving time and because the one thing I missed the most about having bees nearby is to be able to just sit and watch them. 

It has been years since I was around beehives without a suit on and a can full of smoke.

 I have had 2 beehives here since the end of May. One is mine and the other belongs to the woman I work for, that one will move to her place in the Fall. 

It has been an adjustment for all of us- 

The bees have settled in, as bees do. So far they haven't given anyone problems. 

The kids have adjusted-they walk right past the hives with no problems or if the bees are really bustling (around 3 pm every day) they have the option of using another door.

B is good-once he gets used to a change-he is fine-although that first weekend he was a ball of stress. 

Me?-I was/am a wreck in some ways-that first weekend with Brian and the kids being nervous about 2 hives of bees outside our front door was hell.

All of that I already mentioned and the fear my plan to have a beehive at my house would fail. 

I feed off others moods all the time.
(Hence this alone time with the broken foot has been great.)

The buzzing still gets me, but, if a bee dive-bombs or buzzes at my face, I stand still or walk away slowly, that works. 

I make myself go around the hive and water plants and putter-it's difficult right now with the foot, but once I am better I will do it more. 

It's this head thing where I get even more anxious if I don't have a means to escape and with my foot..

Hobbling on crutches away from angry bees...nah...I think being injured makes you more wary anyways.

If my walking boot is off and the dog gets too close to it-I get antsy.

So That's it-for the bees. I have them here now..it makes me anxious but extraordinarily happy at the same time. 

There is a basement window that looks out to the hive entrances and I could stand there all day watching them. 

Scenario one has taken over scenario two and now if there is a bee in the house I go into "wasp in the house mode" instead of the former, more violent "bee in the house mode"

Last night, the power went out and there was a thunderstorm rolling in.  I sat on my front steps and watched all of the bees come in from foraging. Circling down from thirty feet up to fly right into an entrance barely a 1/2 inch high. It really is something to see. 

I could totally get used to that.

I will get used to that. 

A few years back I wrote a piece about a hive that I installed, I got stung a few times and for a few days I was pissed off at all bees.

I'm putting it here-edited a bit to reflect my current situation:


Yesterday I wanted to punch one of those bees in the Goddamn face.

Today I am better

Tomorrow or some day in the near future I go outside, throw my arms open (standing at a safe distance) and proclaim that they have been forgiven and I am over myself.

Not that they care of course.

I guess love is kind of like that.

April Fool

I took the different path this year. I decided to be ridiculous this day of days (in addition to the other 364).

The kids came home from school and I told them:

I was pregnant

We won the lottery

I was leaving their father for Scott Baio

We were getting a puppy

They weren't having it. 

They called out "April Fool's!" And shook their heads at my silliness.

As they did their homework together, at the big table in the dining room, I popped in every few seconds and tried again:

"We're moving to Indiana to open a fundamentalist Christian bakery!!"

"G-I'm buying you a new laptop right now!"

"We just won a new car!"

"A new dishwasher!"

Nope, nope, nope and nope.

"Your father is leaving me for your best friend's mom?"

"No Mom, go away, we're doing homework."

"All right. You're adopted. All of you. Dad and I are having another baby so we can actually have a biological child."

Von got upset at that and informed me that I had offended him. 

I apologized profusely and said it was just me, going too far again.
I assured him he was my own biological son forever and always. 

I tried to show him my c section scar to prove it, but he ran from the room screaming.

G watched the interaction with a bemused expression on her face. 

I turned to her and said, " You just came out of my vagina."

Unmoved as usual, she turned back to her homework. 

"I know Mom," she said with a sigh, 

"You tell me that all the time."