Words for My Minions

I haven't written in quite a while. I've been busy putting the world in order. It's been rather a mess, don't you agree?

Well, several weeks ago i put the smack down on my husband. I told him exactly what I needed, what I DIDN"T need, when I expected to get it and what I'd do if I didn't. Pretty much goes as follows:
I NEED:
Love
Interest
respect
to be left the hell alone sometimes
respect (did i mention I need respect?)
etc.

I DON"T NEED
to be checked up on
to be criticized
to be corrected
to have to ask permission for any damned thing
to be held to someone else's standards or schedules

WHEN?
within a month

WHAT WOULD HAPPEN?
I'd kick him out of my house and my life.
divorce
assault
vengeance

or just divorce.

And it's worked.
He's toed the line. Gone to therapy each and every week by himself.
shaped up. treated me better. Left me the hell alone sometimes.

So I decided, what the hell? I'll do this everywhere.

So with my younger of 2 brothers I insisted he get to a doctor finally FINALLY and get some help for his depression. So I insisted that he send me his insurance information, his SS#, his address, his other info, and I went ahead and researched and did phbone calls and made him an appointment with a doctor to discuss medication. I had them put a note on his file saying that he either needed to come home with medication or divorce papers. I was pretending (wiht his permission) to be his wife.

he went to the appointment, got antidepressants and anti anxiety meds that day. Took them that night. Has felt significantly better.

So I called my mother and my sister and told them to not EVER try to tell me secrets. That they didn't want told all over the family (not the good "I got her this present" kind -- the "Don't tell mom!" kind.). Because I'd tell. I'd do it on purpose. I would not ever triangualte again. No more pretending. I wasn't going to fake that I didn't know something again. And I'd tell EVERY DAMNED person I know about stuff, so I don't have to hide any damned thging any more.

ANd I also will not speak to my oldest brother any more unless in his presence (which is unlikely, as he's in jail at the moment) because he's a malignant, manipulative ass. And he knows I feel this way.

And I won't pretend to be tolerant when people make stupidly rude comments. I have just been squaring up with them and saying "Geez. That is so incredibly RUDE. Did you mean it that way?"

I am drunk on my own power of honesty.
I'm not really doing anything spectacular. I'm just declaring an end to the fakey fake fake stuff. I don't want to deliberately be mean or rude or anything. But I am just stepping out of the patterns of old.

AND IT FEELS FUCKING FANTASTIC!!!

so there

that I had PMS?

Whoops.

Recently, my now-6 year old son asked me about "becoming an angel."
You see, he tells me that when you "stop being alive" you become an angel.  And I'm fine with that.

I told him it probably feels pretty great to be an angel, what with the wings and the flying and going anywhere you want and seeing anybody you want and all.

And he asked me if I knew how fairies were made.

[aside;  in Peter Pan, which we have read, it says, "When the first baby laughed for the first time, the laugh broke into a Thousand Pieces and that was the beginning of fairies."]

So I said, 'I think I do, but what do YOU think?"

He said that when a person becomes an angel, he thinks it probably feels so funny that the person laughs and that laugh turns into a fairy.

Awwww.

NEXT:
tonight, my kids and I celebrated the GORGEOUSLY warm November weather (shorts and barefeet!) with an after-dark flashlight slug hunt.  We grabbed some flashlights and scoured the garden and the rocks surrounding it for slugs, and boy, did we find them.  And some caterpillars.  They used little magnifying glasses to check them out -- and I hope they didn't try to burn them.  I didn't watch constantly.  I did hear Simon say, "you're goin' DOWN, slug!"

My children.
Do drive me crazy.

"Can I have a piece of candy?"
"Where's my apple?"

CAN I WATCH CARTOONS?

Whyyyy?

But MAMA....

"You really need to clean my fishtank."

NO!

Can I have a piece of candy?
WHy do I have to clean my room?

"This glass really needs to be washed.  It is moldy."

Where's my candy?

The evil mini-people are now in their rooms, pondering their lack of goodwill towards their mother. 
I am in my living room pondering a drink at 10:24 a.m.  Too early?
 

I can't believe it.  I've been dared to do something.  And I'm considering it.
A high school student dared me to color my hair red again.  REALLY red.  
I am totally thinking of it.  I might enjoy the shock.

And she sure would.
As a freshman in HS, wouldn't you totally love it if a teacher of yours took you up on a dare?  

What should I dare her in response?  She's an Indian girl with long black hair and verrry rich parents. Hm.  Not a tattoo.  her mom would kill me.  I shall think on it.

I am wondering if it's possible to feel the incredible urge to nap and/or eat/drink  and have it NOT be depression. 
I just really have been wanting naps and cuddliness and time with my dogs and yummy food.  And I'm ok otherwise. 

It's been a crappy, crazy kind of week or 2 and I just want to be safe. 
Is there anything wrong with that?

Today Simon was whispering something to himself, and my husband asked him what he was saying.
  He said, "Shake what your Mama gave ya!"  (apparently he had heard that on TV or radio)
I just about died laughing.
So I said, "Simon, what do you think that is?  What did your mama give you?"

He replied, "I dunno.  Maybe pie?"


 

Hi all.

There was a Simpson's episode which was a spoof on The Planet Of the Apes.  And it was a musical.  There was a song sung by the main character (human) saying
"I hate every ape I see
From Chimpan - A to Chimpan - Z"

And you have to know that some writer for the series has been sitting on that one for years, looking for a way to use it.
"chimpan -A to chimpan-Z"

I have one, and I don't know what to do with it.

"Nosfera-three"
(one more than Nosferatu)

help

I took Simon to the doctor today because he had a fever and his face hurt (sinus infection, I predicted).

They also did a flu test to be sure.  Simon insisted that he didn't have flu.  He said about it, "I didn't get caught by the flu." 

Little kids are funny.

Hey all.
Ever heard of or read "If you Give A Moose A Muffin"?

How about 'If you Give a Llama A Llemonade?"
hhahaha.

I know.  I need to get out more.

I was talking to my husband this afternoon, and he asked me if I'm feeling overwhelmed by all that's going on.

I replied, "To say I am overwhelmed is a Gothic understatement."

I don't know really what that means, but it has a nice ring to it.

A night or 2 ago, it was dark out (as it tends to be at night).  And Simon dashed outside to swing on the swing (which makes sense, I suppose).  We have 2 swings on one tree, and he chose the handmade rope-and-wood one.  It was a lovely warmish/coolish evening.  And he mused while swinging with his back to me, "Mama?  How do wightning bugs (lightning bugs) BE wightning bugs?  I mean, How do they make their bottoms wight (light) up?"
I reminded him of the story that fairies come out each night and shake fairy dust onto all the lightning bug bottoms.  He laughed and said, "Nooooo, mama.  Dat's siwwy.  I fink (think) dey pwug (plug) demselves in."

And then he asked, "how come there aren't any wightning bugs now?"
I said that it's too chilly for them here.  I improvised, saying that they all followed the Monarch butterflies to Mexico where it's all warm.  He responded, "No, mama.  I fink the wight on their bottoms keeps them all warmie."

And then he dashed back into the house.
 

My hair responded really well to banana clips.  I've got a ton of very fine hair.  It doesn't like to stay in a braid or ponytail, and if it is longish, it is just limpish.  No matter what.  Aqua net, whatever. 

Especially in the humidity that was a Chicago summer in the 1980s.  Yowza.

So b-clips were excellent.  And I rocked them. 

My hair is now waaaay shorter than it was, and asymmetrical (longer in front, etc) and all thinned (thank you, hairstylist, for actually listening to me!) and it actually behaves most of the time.  I know.  Imagine my shock.

if you have a young female relative or friend ofthe family, do her a favor and take her to get a really good haircut.  The kind that moms don't think to get for their 11-year-old kids.  Because a bad haircut can seriously make jr. high horrible.  Until you actually get a really good haircut that works for your own hair, you just don't know how nice it can be.!  I mean, I did years and YEARS of long hair with curls from a curling iron.  Then I tried hot rollers.  I tried back-combing and hairspraying.  I did those weird bendy hot roller tube things.  I permed.  I colored and highlighted.

And holy crap.  None of it lasted any more than a few minutes once I walked out of the door into the wind and humidity.  Ok-- sometimes I gave my hair a stern talking-to and an extra large dose of Aqua Net and it would hold its shape for an hour or two, but .... rarely did I want to inflict that much damage on my lungs and the ozone layer.

Moral of the story:  
I'm taking my kid in for a real haircut very soon.  She looks like a blonde turtle with glasses right now with all her Super Fine Super Thick blonde hair falling in her face.  Not that I have any experience with that or anything.  Sigh.

Ever have one of those moments where you get all creative?
And then let the last threads of reality slip from your fingers and then let yourself float over that invisible line between "oh-so-creative" and "holy CRAP!  Why did I think that sounded good"?

No?

Well, away with you.  I don't want to edge you closer to that tipping point.

I recall one afternoon, years ago.  I was living in an unfortunate large state south of the Mason-Dixon line. 
It was summer.  I was bored.  I was hungry.  I was also somewhat broke.  In the fridge, I located some large mushrooms. Very large.  May have been portabellas.  (I know.  why would a broke college kid have portabellas just hanging around?  ya got me there.)
I also had some pork breakfast sausage.  So I thought, "I'll make me some stuffed mushroom caps!"
And so I mixed up the sausage with, oh, some broken up cracker crumbs.  And an egg.  And some dried parsley.  And some ... grape jelly.

I know.
I felt all Emeril at the moment, and was thinking "Oooh.  That'll give it a nice fresh purple taste."  Or something.
And squish squish squish and ploppity ploppity and stuff stuff stuff and then SWOOP into the oven. 

Maybe 20 minutes later? 

EW!

I really REALLy tried to like them. 

could not. 
ever go over the edge?
please help.  I feel so alone with my concord grape-Hillshire Farm sausage-portabella hell.

Another one of my friends is dead.

we went to high school dances together, did each other's hair.  I really tried to talk her out of the hair clips she liked so much.  She was afraid of her dad, so one night when she was taken to a bar by some people she didn't know very well, she called ME at midnight and asked MY dad to come get her.  And he did.  No questions asked.  The "Kit-Kat Klub" in the burbs of Chicago.  She had the most lovely light brown eyes.  She could draw incredibly well. She was so quiet and shy, but so damned funny.

She is now dead.
As of 3 weeks ago.
My god.  What is going on?

Rhonda Schauer 1970-2009.

(yes, I'm quoting a song there)

SO:

crap.  I forgot what I was going to say.

Really.  What's wrong with my mind?  I got all clever with the title, and now?  Poof.  Gone.

OH YEAH.

Ok.  You ever watch the Macy's Parade?  Or the Rose Bowl parade?  It has been a family tradition for me.  My grandma (dead for quite some time now) would call us up early and say in her screechy old-lady voice, "ARE YOU WATCHING THE PARADE????" and we'd dutifully turn it on.  She'd remind us, "IT'S ON CHANNEL 2 AND 7!"  So we'd flip back and forth.  This was before remotes, so we'd get up (in our footie pajamas) and crouch by the big wood-encased Zenith and chunk-chunk-chunk-chunk turn the knob and see which channel had better coverage.

But you remember that they used to show the actual parade?  And Santa at the end?  I remember drinking orange juice and eating those tube-cinnamon rolls and LOVING it.  

Now, not so much.  I swear, it's an exercise in complete annoyance and Feel-good singing groups on stages that are off-site.  And I hate it.  I want marching bands!  I want floats and balloons!

So here's what we need to do:  propose to the cable/satellite companies to have PAY PER VIEW for those parades, and have basically NO "announcers" -- just a ticker on the bottom telling us the details (how tall the float is, where the band is from, how many members of the dance team, etc).  Hell, I'd pay $15 to watch the old-school way.

Who's with me?

 

Today I taught a couple of flute lessons. 
Now, I teach almost every day.  Except Sundays.  Never do I teach on Sundays.  I like that it gives the illusion of sanctity to my otherwise unholy life. 
And also it gives me one day where I don't have to wash my hair.

Today I hung around because I had a 1 hour gap in between students.  I usually don't, but this one kid had to come later and I just love her, so I decided to wait.
She's a senior in high school.  To say she's tall, blonde, skinny and stacked is a tragic understatement.  Blue eyes.  Long blonde hair, snappy attitude and clingy sweaters.  I love her. 
She go so excited that I remembered to bring a copy of All State audition music for her.  She actually giggled and said, "SHIT!  Kate.  you remembered!"
Love this kid.
As I walked her through the music, explaining the structure and exposing the underlying patterns, she kept up a commentary.  "FUCK.  Dammit Kate!~  You expect me to do WHAT?  Goddamn, girl!"  Yet she smiles and we laugh.  And sometimes I tell her stories in questionable taste. 

I think it's darling that this perfectly lovely girl has such a potty mouth. 

you know those dumb questions to inspire writing?  
Today's is:
"How could we eat better to improve the world" or somesuch.

I have an answer.

Smart people:  eat all the dumb people.

Voila.

collaboration

It's a clunky word.  Better words?  Not thinking of any.

However....
I looove to collaborate .  I haven't had enough chances created enough opportunites to do that.

I want to come up with some mind-blowingfabulousamazing business that is all about collaboration. 

Isn't there a way?
I can be the Match.com of the artistic and business world.

hm

Find a way to get business people to make art as a way to push through difficult decisions.  Get artists to have businesslike exposure.  Get musicians to learn about, respect, possibly even integrate the visual arts into their education, performance and even in the musical process.

it's onthe tip of my brain....
HOW.
how?

And when I typed "haven't had enough chances" above, it reflects the main problem we all have.  If a chance doesn't present itself, labeled and price-tagged and packaged, we simply assume that It's Not Meant To Be or that Somebody Else Would Have Thought Of It First.
We don't create opportunities because we're not used to it.  (most of us, anyway)  We think because it's not in a catalog somewhere or in the top 10 hits of a Google search, it just doesn't exist.
And if it doesn't exist, well, we're out of luck.
How about MAKING it exist?

So getting back to my fabulous business. 
It's hovering outside my range of thought.  what would this business BE?  What would it look like?  How would it act?

This is not something that is .... out there... yet.  I think.
A matchmaker.
An artistic Yenta.
A Wholeness Advisor.
Make A Rounded Person out of a Square Peg.
Make a Well-Rounded Business out of ....
The Completeness Corporation
Interactively Artistic
A Deepifyer
Fill Your Life With ... fishtanks?
no

The Enricher

The Link

THE LINK

LINK

linque
lynk
lynque
llynque

llynquer

Knit
Sew
Join
Enmesh
Collaborateurs
Co--- co-what?

Is this just me or is this an amazingly great idea?
or is it just me.

If so, move along.  Nothing to see here.

Ok ... you be the judge.

Day 1:  Thursday
Rapidly running nose, gross feeling throat, headache
Treatment:  tissues, water, tylenol

Day 2:  Friday:
sneezing, yukky throat, cough, tiredness, headache
Treatment:  allergy medicine, tylenol, fluids, sleep

Day 3:  Saturday
Less sneezing, more coughing, more tired, no appetite, the "cold and clammies"
Treatment:  Albuteral inhaler (left over from last winter), chicken soup, drinks, sleep

Day 4; sUNday
Gunky nose, tickly cough alternating with wheezy cough, cold clammies, tired, little appetite, loss of taste
Treatment:  Fluids, sleep and albuterol inhaler, tea

Day 5: Monday
Gunky cough alternating w/ wheezy/tickly cough, queasiness, cold clammies, less tired
Treatment:  moping, doing crossword puzzle, drinking diet coke, napping


What do I have?  Dengue fever?  InterColorectalRenalHemmorhoidalMyletisoxinate?  NasalPharangectomyitis?
With a side of dogpox?

I'm calling the doc now.  But you weigh in first.