I discovered this morning that there are over 10 million pictures of bacon and related bacon like themes on google images. (thanks to my son who from now on wishes to be called, "the baconator".
Monday, July 14, 2008
waking from sleep
It's barely morning and I'm just waking up. My eyes feel sticky and dry. I had really disturbing dreams last night that pounded me with frustration. In one, I was a traveler and I was trying to get home. Not to the home I'm in right now, but to my childhood home. There was a family party going on there and I knew I would be missed. I was stuck in the middle of a grass field with other travelers each just as lost and as stuck as I was. We were all waiting for a train, but each of us had different destinations. Ironically, trains kept coming, staffed by beautiful Indian attendants...but they were all going someplace else, somewhere we didn't intend to go. I thought of different ways to get home,...I could walk but it was too far. Perhaps I could rent a car... but I couldn't afford it. So I sat down in the grass with the other travelers and just waited.
I woke up from this dream before anything was resolved. The dog was licking the soles of my feet. A sweet way of saying...hey lazy butt, get up and get my kibble. This is becoming a habit for him, I guess my feet get hot in the morning and I stick them out of the covers where they are in his visual field. It wakes me up enough for me to giggle and scratch him behind his ears, but I don't think that is what he's after.
He did get his kibble eventually, but not before I sank back into another dream. This one was less defined with a lot more side action happening but what I remember most was a family meeting with one of my former clients (I am a speech therapist working as a supervisor to graduate students at the U...not sure why I feel compelled to include that fact because anyone who has the inkling to read this already knows this). I've decided not to discuss my client's stories on my blog, even anonymously...privacy is a sacred thing. So I won't tell her story, I'll just say it is the most tragic thing I've ever seen and this girl continues to haunt me. She is my age and from what I've learned about her personality before her accident, I think we could have been good friends. In my dream she was an infant, a beautiful, healthy infant. She was smiling and visiting each of us in the circle the way any normal infant would. Her father (much younger than he is in real life) was reporting on the therapy she had received under my tutelage. (I don't actually provide the therapy at my work, I just supervise). He was harsh. He said of me...."She didn't know what she was doing," "I can't believe she enjoys her work", he said. "My daughter made no progress" "It was a waste of time." Ouch ouch ouch. I nodded in agreement. "You are right. I am a fraud". Then I kissed the little girl and left the meeting and went shopping for clothes. There was a sale going on, in fact, we were having this meeting conveniently right there in the clothing store.
The last dream wasn't completely disturbing, nor would I even call it a dream. It was more of an image and I was already 1/4 awake by this time. The background was completely black. The deepest black I've ever seen. I saw an image suspended in space, floating in this deep black. It was a cyclindrical bag with thick edges. It looked like it was made of soft plastic. This bag was stuffed full of small pastel colored balls. There was no feeling or meaning attached to this image. It was just there and I watched it hanging meaninglessly in space.
Must go. House, boys, dog all in need of attention. (plus I fell asleep before doing my work thing last night)
... Noah is waiting anxiously to tell me his dreams now.
I woke up from this dream before anything was resolved. The dog was licking the soles of my feet. A sweet way of saying...hey lazy butt, get up and get my kibble. This is becoming a habit for him, I guess my feet get hot in the morning and I stick them out of the covers where they are in his visual field. It wakes me up enough for me to giggle and scratch him behind his ears, but I don't think that is what he's after.
He did get his kibble eventually, but not before I sank back into another dream. This one was less defined with a lot more side action happening but what I remember most was a family meeting with one of my former clients (I am a speech therapist working as a supervisor to graduate students at the U...not sure why I feel compelled to include that fact because anyone who has the inkling to read this already knows this). I've decided not to discuss my client's stories on my blog, even anonymously...privacy is a sacred thing. So I won't tell her story, I'll just say it is the most tragic thing I've ever seen and this girl continues to haunt me. She is my age and from what I've learned about her personality before her accident, I think we could have been good friends. In my dream she was an infant, a beautiful, healthy infant. She was smiling and visiting each of us in the circle the way any normal infant would. Her father (much younger than he is in real life) was reporting on the therapy she had received under my tutelage. (I don't actually provide the therapy at my work, I just supervise). He was harsh. He said of me...."She didn't know what she was doing," "I can't believe she enjoys her work", he said. "My daughter made no progress" "It was a waste of time." Ouch ouch ouch. I nodded in agreement. "You are right. I am a fraud". Then I kissed the little girl and left the meeting and went shopping for clothes. There was a sale going on, in fact, we were having this meeting conveniently right there in the clothing store.
The last dream wasn't completely disturbing, nor would I even call it a dream. It was more of an image and I was already 1/4 awake by this time. The background was completely black. The deepest black I've ever seen. I saw an image suspended in space, floating in this deep black. It was a cyclindrical bag with thick edges. It looked like it was made of soft plastic. This bag was stuffed full of small pastel colored balls. There was no feeling or meaning attached to this image. It was just there and I watched it hanging meaninglessly in space.
Must go. House, boys, dog all in need of attention. (plus I fell asleep before doing my work thing last night)
... Noah is waiting anxiously to tell me his dreams now.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Drooling and snoring...
I'm finally beginning to realize that I blog more when I'm using it as an avoidance tactic. I've got something I have to do for work...and it's really not that hard, but I just don't want to do it. Of course, I'll end up doing it anyway, it will just be later tonight and I'll be grumpier and even less willing,less efficient, less complete, and more apt to make mistakes. I resent working on the weekends. But I end up just punishing myself for this resentment.
I'm nursing a wound I have from an argument I had with hubby a few hours ago. It started with (drum roll please) ...dog poop.... but not really. That's what we decided it was about, but what it really was about was much shitter than the dog shit itself, and I think we are only barely aware of what that even is. Maybe it goes back to the ageless argument of who's job is it to do what. But I think underneath that excuse it that universal need to be seen, validated, recognized, appreciated and loved. Something we both have learned very well how to withhold. Why do we withhold? Because it is being withheld. Who makes the first move? Who is adult enough here? Is it really true that you get back out what you put into a relationship? You put love in...you get love out? But how do you protect yourself from being taken advantage of? Is it also true that if you put rancor in, you get rancor back? Is there no other option other than love or rancor?
ugh. I need to change the subject or I'll never get to my work project and I'll get too worked up to sleep.
Last week I pulled several nights with little or no sleep as I trudged through the dbp.* Friday night Jason took the kids camping. (a father/son thing)...and as a reward for my hard work and since I had a whole evening just to myself...I treated myself to a professional massage. I've had plenty of massages before. Most of the time, I leave a little bit disappointed as I attempt to gauge whether the massage justifed the time and money spent to get one. But last Friday there was no question in my mind. It was Nirvana. I now know what I want in a massage. I want the pressure so deep that it hurts (in a good way). It has taken several different people over several different years each trying their own technique until I found one that I really like. After it was done, I felt like he had replaced years to my life that stress and personal abuses had robbed me of over the years. I get a massage every few months or so and I usually just jump around to different therapists. I tried sticking with one but he was really disappointing in the end. But now...I have found him. I have found the therapist with the keys to Nirvana. It will take self control to not go back too soon or too often, given the expense of it. Normally I like to chill out and not talk but I found myself unusually chatty. I found out he was a "gamer". And sometimes he'll play for an entire day without noticing time passing. He's also into creating his own computer programs, (for lack of a better word, he could describe it better than I). This massage thing was just a weekend gig. It was strange really, laying there all but entirely butt naked as this guy I'd never met before sent me to Nirvana, and there was nothing sexual about it. I started to wonder if he ever had fantasies about his clients. Of course he did. But I'm quite sure he won't fantasize about me. I believe I was so sent that I might have started to drool. Plus...I'm old. I'm getting older and as a woman, I'm moving closer and closer into the realm of sexual irrelevancy. (not as far as I'm concerned but I'm describing how I think the larger culture looks at women with gray hair).
Oih. i'm starting to nod here. I cannot fall asleep. Cannot....fall...asleep. can't fall....fall...can't.........................(snore).
*dreaded business plan
I'm nursing a wound I have from an argument I had with hubby a few hours ago. It started with (drum roll please) ...dog poop.... but not really. That's what we decided it was about, but what it really was about was much shitter than the dog shit itself, and I think we are only barely aware of what that even is. Maybe it goes back to the ageless argument of who's job is it to do what. But I think underneath that excuse it that universal need to be seen, validated, recognized, appreciated and loved. Something we both have learned very well how to withhold. Why do we withhold? Because it is being withheld. Who makes the first move? Who is adult enough here? Is it really true that you get back out what you put into a relationship? You put love in...you get love out? But how do you protect yourself from being taken advantage of? Is it also true that if you put rancor in, you get rancor back? Is there no other option other than love or rancor?
ugh. I need to change the subject or I'll never get to my work project and I'll get too worked up to sleep.
Last week I pulled several nights with little or no sleep as I trudged through the dbp.* Friday night Jason took the kids camping. (a father/son thing)...and as a reward for my hard work and since I had a whole evening just to myself...I treated myself to a professional massage. I've had plenty of massages before. Most of the time, I leave a little bit disappointed as I attempt to gauge whether the massage justifed the time and money spent to get one. But last Friday there was no question in my mind. It was Nirvana. I now know what I want in a massage. I want the pressure so deep that it hurts (in a good way). It has taken several different people over several different years each trying their own technique until I found one that I really like. After it was done, I felt like he had replaced years to my life that stress and personal abuses had robbed me of over the years. I get a massage every few months or so and I usually just jump around to different therapists. I tried sticking with one but he was really disappointing in the end. But now...I have found him. I have found the therapist with the keys to Nirvana. It will take self control to not go back too soon or too often, given the expense of it. Normally I like to chill out and not talk but I found myself unusually chatty. I found out he was a "gamer". And sometimes he'll play for an entire day without noticing time passing. He's also into creating his own computer programs, (for lack of a better word, he could describe it better than I). This massage thing was just a weekend gig. It was strange really, laying there all but entirely butt naked as this guy I'd never met before sent me to Nirvana, and there was nothing sexual about it. I started to wonder if he ever had fantasies about his clients. Of course he did. But I'm quite sure he won't fantasize about me. I believe I was so sent that I might have started to drool. Plus...I'm old. I'm getting older and as a woman, I'm moving closer and closer into the realm of sexual irrelevancy. (not as far as I'm concerned but I'm describing how I think the larger culture looks at women with gray hair).
Oih. i'm starting to nod here. I cannot fall asleep. Cannot....fall...asleep. can't fall....fall...can't.........................(snore).
*dreaded business plan
Saturday, July 12, 2008
All Done. Yipeeee!!!!!
oh yeah. uh huh. that's right. ....baby I'm done with the dreaded business plan.... For anyone well versed in the normal operations of a business this would have taken half that time. I think what hung me up was the initial need I felt to adapt to the excel spread sheets offered to me from the free business planning guy at Zions bank. They are supposed to be general enough for most businesses but I found them laborious to navigate. So I learned what kind of info that is important to identify and created my own, perhaps messier, but certainly more personally tailored projections reports. I hope the bank guy feels the same about my creative liberties. It won't kill us not to get a small business loan, but I'm tired of contributing our grocery money to get things jump started. I took my ideas for splitting the business with my partner to an attorney who advised me on how to do this so that neither one of us feel "screwed", especially if one of us ever wants out. Mostly he said I was giving too much away to him and he tempered our arrangement a bit to build in some protection and share the burden of the risk, for both of us. I like how things are forming up and it is exciting to see it all start to come together. Now...we just need clients. Anyone out there need help with your /r/'s? how about tongue thrust? I saw a kid yesterday in Josh's science class who was a major tongue thruster. I've noticed this is a hard thing to grow out of. I've been waiting for my second child to finally get his permanent teeth before we correct that endearing at first, but now becoming increasingly annoying /s/ laterialization issue.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Just scratching my itch.
Starting my day out with my morning blog. I guess it's my equivalent to a morning cup of coffee. Seems to jump start something in the cranium.
The other day I noticed I had one mosquito bite (it could be spider but that makes my skin crawl so I'm going to call it a mosquito bite) on my neck. I am an incurable scratcher. So of course I teased it into something that resembles a goiter. Which probably just enticed the critter so it came back for seconds. Suddenly one was joined by two. This morning I woke up to find another one up a little higher by my hair line. Oh the humanity!!! Will this suffering never end?!
A friend of mine (and you know who you are Tim) turned me on to Morgan Spurlock (the Supersize me guy) and his TV series "30 days". There is a bit of drudgery involved with writing a business plan (yep...still at it)....and while I've plugged numbers into templates I've been watching TV on my ipod. So far I've made it through season one and three, now I'm starting season two. Here is a link to a review it if you are interested. The whole series can be downloaded from itunes.
http://www.tv.com/30-days/show/36402/summary.html
The episodes that I thought were well worth the watch are 1-gay parenting 2-off the grid
3-minimum wage.....
oh hell...they are all worth the watch.
I was hopeful with the Muslims and Christians episode, but it disappointed me. The animal rights was endearing but the hunter seemed to relinquish his opinion too quickly, it didn't seem real. But I trust that this isn't staged. Why do I trust this? I don' know, Morgan just seems like a trustful kind a guy.
I watched the Coal Mine last night and now I see that I have one more thing for which I should feel some guilt as I sit here in front of my laptop, there is a cost to it and I watched the cost last night. Damn. Where is the number for the dancing rabbits farm? (you'll have to watch "off the grid" to understand that).
Okay...better wrap up this. Got things to do. Here is my to do list for today.
1-Scratch my new mosquito bite.
2-Drag Josh to Science Camp. (HE picked this class not me. I hate making him go but its one of those difficult parenting things. Do you be flexible or do you make your kid fulfill a commitment even when it is boooooooooooring.)
3-Business Plan (need I say more?)
4-Scratch my old mosquito bites
5-Appointment with therapist. Seriously...I have an appointment with my therapist today. She said I am exhibiting a reaction to religion that smacks of "trauma". She is going to try something that I'm a little nervous about. It initially sounded liked "shock therapy" (yaaaoowwwzzers) but I was assured it's nothing like that. Its just something to keep my forebrain busy while she digs deeper into the innards of my psyche. I don't think I really was traumatized. I don't believe whatever angst I have can be fully attributed to my conservative Mormon upbringing (although it plays a part I'm sure). I actually think I'm fairly mentally healthy. But I don't understand myself very well. Nor do I understand life in general so much. I often feel baffled by what goes on around me. Maybe I'm just like everyone else, I'm just more honest about it.
6-Go to work. Yes. I still have a job. Even though I don't go there very often. I have come to love the accent clients in this little group I am supervising. Next week is our last session. I'm going to miss them.
7-Scratch you know what
8-Stick a frozen pizza in the oven. (this just tells you the state of my diet. but as soon as I'm able I'm going to make a U turn)
9-Stack all the shit cluttering my floor into piles. Legos. Clean/dirty laundry. Papers/folders, chewed up swimming goggles, balls of fur and dirt, etc.
10-Make love to my husband. Come on honey....it's been forever!!!!! Of course, he won't read this. He never reads my blog. But if he did, he would laugh to read this last one because it sounds like I am trying to convince him when he would assert that it is usually it's the other way around and to be honest, we are both at fault. We are both just too fucking busy to fuck....or love...or be soft and enjoy smooth and uncalloused heels.
I miss the cabin. I miss the river.
Wow. This evolved into something I didn't expect. Why do I feel the need to place my shit out there for anyone to read? It's the hairy weirdo in the woods in the raincoat syndrome perhaps.
Ciao for now.
The other day I noticed I had one mosquito bite (it could be spider but that makes my skin crawl so I'm going to call it a mosquito bite) on my neck. I am an incurable scratcher. So of course I teased it into something that resembles a goiter. Which probably just enticed the critter so it came back for seconds. Suddenly one was joined by two. This morning I woke up to find another one up a little higher by my hair line. Oh the humanity!!! Will this suffering never end?!
A friend of mine (and you know who you are Tim) turned me on to Morgan Spurlock (the Supersize me guy) and his TV series "30 days". There is a bit of drudgery involved with writing a business plan (yep...still at it)....and while I've plugged numbers into templates I've been watching TV on my ipod. So far I've made it through season one and three, now I'm starting season two. Here is a link to a review it if you are interested. The whole series can be downloaded from itunes.
http://www.tv.com/30-days/show/36402/summary.html
The episodes that I thought were well worth the watch are 1-gay parenting 2-off the grid
3-minimum wage.....
oh hell...they are all worth the watch.
I was hopeful with the Muslims and Christians episode, but it disappointed me. The animal rights was endearing but the hunter seemed to relinquish his opinion too quickly, it didn't seem real. But I trust that this isn't staged. Why do I trust this? I don' know, Morgan just seems like a trustful kind a guy.
I watched the Coal Mine last night and now I see that I have one more thing for which I should feel some guilt as I sit here in front of my laptop, there is a cost to it and I watched the cost last night. Damn. Where is the number for the dancing rabbits farm? (you'll have to watch "off the grid" to understand that).
Okay...better wrap up this. Got things to do. Here is my to do list for today.
1-Scratch my new mosquito bite.
2-Drag Josh to Science Camp. (HE picked this class not me. I hate making him go but its one of those difficult parenting things. Do you be flexible or do you make your kid fulfill a commitment even when it is boooooooooooring.)
3-Business Plan (need I say more?)
4-Scratch my old mosquito bites
5-Appointment with therapist. Seriously...I have an appointment with my therapist today. She said I am exhibiting a reaction to religion that smacks of "trauma". She is going to try something that I'm a little nervous about. It initially sounded liked "shock therapy" (yaaaoowwwzzers) but I was assured it's nothing like that. Its just something to keep my forebrain busy while she digs deeper into the innards of my psyche. I don't think I really was traumatized. I don't believe whatever angst I have can be fully attributed to my conservative Mormon upbringing (although it plays a part I'm sure). I actually think I'm fairly mentally healthy. But I don't understand myself very well. Nor do I understand life in general so much. I often feel baffled by what goes on around me. Maybe I'm just like everyone else, I'm just more honest about it.
6-Go to work. Yes. I still have a job. Even though I don't go there very often. I have come to love the accent clients in this little group I am supervising. Next week is our last session. I'm going to miss them.
7-Scratch you know what
8-Stick a frozen pizza in the oven. (this just tells you the state of my diet. but as soon as I'm able I'm going to make a U turn)
9-Stack all the shit cluttering my floor into piles. Legos. Clean/dirty laundry. Papers/folders, chewed up swimming goggles, balls of fur and dirt, etc.
10-Make love to my husband. Come on honey....it's been forever!!!!! Of course, he won't read this. He never reads my blog. But if he did, he would laugh to read this last one because it sounds like I am trying to convince him when he would assert that it is usually it's the other way around and to be honest, we are both at fault. We are both just too fucking busy to fuck....or love...or be soft and enjoy smooth and uncalloused heels.
I miss the cabin. I miss the river.
Wow. This evolved into something I didn't expect. Why do I feel the need to place my shit out there for anyone to read? It's the hairy weirdo in the woods in the raincoat syndrome perhaps.
Ciao for now.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
gills, chest hair and dog vomit
just jump starting my brain this morning with a quickie post.....
Things I learn about anatomy from my kids and my dog:
1-Gills:
Christian to mom: Deep breath.... "I'm glad I have gills. If I didn't have gills I couldn't breathe. If you make your gills angry, they won't breathe for you and then you'll have to breathe for yourself"
2-Body Odor
Noah: "dad forgot his tie"
Mom: "oh yeah, he left it lying on the counter, but I think he wore that yesterday"
Noah: "no he didn't, it doesn't smell"
Mom: "I don't think ties get stinky like clothes do"
Noah: "oh yeah they do. The tie "devolves" into the shirt and then the shirt devolves into the chest hair and the chest hair is what makes everything stinky"
(Noah has had an obsession with chest and underarm hair lately even going to the extreme of creating his own underarm hair with a permanent marker)
3-Dogs do not digest paper towels...and if you've ever wondered whether or not dogs can get car sick, I can assure you that they do. Oh yes. They do.
Only a few more hours until the meeting with the bank dude. He'll be expecting my business plan. Nearly done! Still some tweeking to do. I paid the kids each dollar to play nice and be quiet this morning. Shameless I know. But it is working for the time being. Wish I could pay the dog to not be a pain in the ass. He's in. He's out. in...out...in..out.. Everytime he moves he leaves a pile of fur and dirt....(like PigPen on the Peanuts cartoon and his traveling ball of dirt)
Okay then...nose meet grindstone.
Things I learn about anatomy from my kids and my dog:
1-Gills:
Christian to mom: Deep breath.... "I'm glad I have gills. If I didn't have gills I couldn't breathe. If you make your gills angry, they won't breathe for you and then you'll have to breathe for yourself"
2-Body Odor
Noah: "dad forgot his tie"
Mom: "oh yeah, he left it lying on the counter, but I think he wore that yesterday"
Noah: "no he didn't, it doesn't smell"
Mom: "I don't think ties get stinky like clothes do"
Noah: "oh yeah they do. The tie "devolves" into the shirt and then the shirt devolves into the chest hair and the chest hair is what makes everything stinky"
(Noah has had an obsession with chest and underarm hair lately even going to the extreme of creating his own underarm hair with a permanent marker)
3-Dogs do not digest paper towels...and if you've ever wondered whether or not dogs can get car sick, I can assure you that they do. Oh yes. They do.
Only a few more hours until the meeting with the bank dude. He'll be expecting my business plan. Nearly done! Still some tweeking to do. I paid the kids each dollar to play nice and be quiet this morning. Shameless I know. But it is working for the time being. Wish I could pay the dog to not be a pain in the ass. He's in. He's out. in...out...in..out.. Everytime he moves he leaves a pile of fur and dirt....(like PigPen on the Peanuts cartoon and his traveling ball of dirt)
Okay then...nose meet grindstone.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
day five and the battle ain't over yet honey...
I've been tortured by the business plan for going on (at least) five days now. I just can't seem to even try to finish it. I've been doing everything else (including scrubbing the dead skin off from my big toes)...except this. I've been blaming my distractions on everyone and everything else, especially my family. But now, I'm in my office. I'm alone. It's very very quiet and I'm staring bleakly into the distance. I just now figured out what it is going on and I had to purge this thought briefly before I launch into it. I am afraid. That is what is stopping me. It's not laziness..it's not procrastination...I am afraid to look at the numbers in their faces. What if I prove to myself that I'm doomed for failure? What if I prove to myself that I will succeed? (that almost seems scarier...there's a lot of responsibility that comes with success.) I am like a child in a candy store clutching a sweaty five dollar bill....what you do with it is up to you sweetheart, but you have to live with the consequences. If five dollars were time, I would have spent it on penny candy by now. A little of this....a bite of that....ooohh that looks nice....
I think now that I've recognized that my road block is really just fear...perhaps I can get beyond this. I really do have what I need to write it. I have several blank templates that are just waiting for me to plug in numbers. Waiting....waiting....waiting....
I recently read over a friends business website and called him on a few typos and awkward sentences. ME! Telling someone to watch their typos?! I hear the distant clang of a black pot.
Okay...I'm ready to look fear and numbers directly head on. I'm ready to make the leap out of ignorance.
But first I'm going to go grab a coffee. This is going to be a late night.
I think now that I've recognized that my road block is really just fear...perhaps I can get beyond this. I really do have what I need to write it. I have several blank templates that are just waiting for me to plug in numbers. Waiting....waiting....waiting....
I recently read over a friends business website and called him on a few typos and awkward sentences. ME! Telling someone to watch their typos?! I hear the distant clang of a black pot.
Okay...I'm ready to look fear and numbers directly head on. I'm ready to make the leap out of ignorance.
But first I'm going to go grab a coffee. This is going to be a late night.
Monday, July 7, 2008
start the prozac IV please....
I'm not being commanded necessarily....but I do feel the urge to purge. Today I blew my top. Used my big girl voice, slammed the door and started walking up the street without wearing any shoes. I walked up one block, turned around and came back home. It was silly I suppose. I was in full on tantrum mode. My middle and youngest sons have been pushing my buttons all day and if I do say so myself... for 95% of the day I met this challenge with patience, loving kindness, but firm consistency until they just pushed too hard and I lost it.
tease...scream...whine...fight....tease....scream..whine...fight...tattle. Strike one...five minute time out. Strike two...lose your hour of computer...Strike three...one hour early bed time. Strike four it starts all over times two. I'm just spinning my wheels. They really don't care. Sometimes kids have a way of making you feel completely powerless.
tease...scream...whine...fight....tease....scream..whine...fight...tattle. Strike one...five minute time out. Strike two...lose your hour of computer...Strike three...one hour early bed time. Strike four it starts all over times two. I'm just spinning my wheels. They really don't care. Sometimes kids have a way of making you feel completely powerless.
After I thankfully put them to bed, I flipped open the laptop (ostensibly to work on the dreaded business plan) and instead I read an email from my business partner which made me laugh. A pleasant deep in the belly kind of laugh. He is Jewish and he is often making jokes about his culture. I never know if it is polite to laugh too hard in person but in email format I don't have this conflict. Suddenly I felt so much better. Laughter really is an amazing drug.
Okay..back to the dreaded business plan. I am truly clueless. Any help for the helpless out there??? Anyone??? anyone??? Okay. I guess it's just me and my hopeful pie charts.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
I'm.....still....back?
I guess if I blog once a month, that could be considered blogging? I don't want to blog if I don't want to blog. In fact, I've tried this and it's nearly impossible. I might manage to eek something out but it is usually flat and obligatory. So...I blog when my inner voice commands it and it is screaming tonight. I...must...blog. I have a love/hate relationship with this medium. Love that through a blog I find my voice. But hate it mainly because it is so easy to make a complete ass of myself doing this. Also, it's a bit, shall we say..exhibitionistic? Not all blogs are, but mine certainly tends to be. I am the cyber equivalent to the hairy unstable weirdo that dons a rain coat (and nothing else) and jumps out of the woods at unsuspecting passerbys. Except, I'm not that hairy (see below for more details on this). And the junk that I'm flashing might just be all those crazy unresolved conflicts that I've lugged along with me since childhood. Except tonight...I don't want to talk about any of that. I want to talk about exfoliation. (more about this is a minute).
I don't want to talk about religion tonight. (even though I've got some juicy stories stored in my vault). I don't want to talk about politics. I don't want to talk about my recent vacation. (to the Idaho cabin where on a beautiful walk one morning on a dirt road that opened up into a meadow with an impressive display of wildflowers set in a background of a stereotypical big Western blue sky surrounded by the White Clouds and the Sawtooth Mtns....you feelin' the love yet?.... I resolved that as soon as I'm able, I'm going to buy some land and live there all the time. If I'm still married, he can come. If I'm not, he can still come and visit, but only now and then. I think I just talked myself out of my parenthetical statement. No...no..no... I don't want to talk about any of that.
I want to talk about yesterday. Yesterday I was in an odd mood. The day started out okay, with a visit to the Farmers Market. Initially I was really overwhelmed by it all, the smells, the people, the food. I had too many choices and I felt paralyzed. In the end, I only bought a handful of cherries, a couple onions, some lettuce and a small peach/blue raspberry Italian Ice. I told Jason I was too busy for this, but ended up walking down to the Gateway where I knew he was taking the kids to see the new kid's movie "Wall-E". He wasn't at all surprised to see me. Of course, he wouldn't have been surprised not to see me either. The movie evoked strange emotions in me. It was a hyperbole of where we humans might find ourselves if we don't change our abusive habits. It was a kid's green flick. Sort of like the dancing penguins movie but with a scarier twist. By the end of the movie.... embarrassing perhaps to admit this...I was crying. Crying because the message behind this was too overwhelming for me at the moment. Perhaps it was because of the Market with all the choices of fresh food, and the smell of basil and onions. It really wasn't the movie itself that made me cry, it was the thought that we really could lose this all. I've heard it said that right now we are in a critical position, where if we change our current trajectory perhaps we can avoid what some people are calling the inevitable after we've used up and/or spoiled our natural resources. What will the future generations say about us if we do nothing? If we continue to add to the problem? I thought about my black SUV waiting to take me home and realized that the old adage that if you aren't part of the solution, then you are part of the problem...fit all too uncomfortably well.
On my way home, I decided to stop at the library. This is where the mania of the past few days veers it's ugly head. I initially stopped only to find some books about how to teach myself and the kids how to reduce our carbon footprint. I grabbed a basket and filled it to the top. Then I balanced more books in my free hand until a nice library worker handed me another basket which I filled to the top. I wandered into random aisles and picked up books on "how to organize your life"...."the case against the global economy"...a parenting book...and several books on how to write a business plan. When I was finally finished with my ravenous library kill...I had two baskets and more books tucked underneath my arm and I was headin' to the check out. I had more books than I could possibly read between now and when they are due...even if I spent all my waking hours doing only this. As of yet...I have not opened a single one of them. But the business plan books will be cracked tonight. Yes Sir. Tonight. (been saying I'm gonna write that damn business plan and by Joe I'm gonna get crackin.)
They say that blogging is so free form, stream of consciousness, lacks cohesion, self aborbed explosion of the id. yeah....SO???
After my library adventure...I got back into my Earth hating vehicle. (feeling a little less guilty because now by damn, I was taking action). I decided that I'd head to the grocery store. Only on the way I was listening to something that could be considered "classical". I usually only tolerate classical for brief periods but for some reason this completely sucked me in. I made it to the store but sat in my car and let myself fall into a bit of a trance. It was almost like for a moment...I became part of the music. I can't say much more about it because the experience was so nonverbal and to try and explain it would be so analytical that it would ruin it. I'm sure most people have experienced this at some point in their lives, so no explanation is necessary. You know what I mean, don't you. ( I left out the question mark because I want to say this more like a statement than a question). There I was..sitting in Dan's parking lot in the car with the windows rolled up while the sun pumped out the high 90's ....closing my eyes, blaring the classics. No one seemed to notice. If they did, I didn't notice them. After a while, it led to a day dream about dying right then and there. Killed by the classics, (and from the heat). Which sparked some life back into me and I staggered into the grocery store.
Initally...it was a bread and milk sort of store run. I haven't shopped in two weeks. It evolved into something much bigger, as I strolled down the various aisles. Typically, I hate this kind of shopping. It's so uncontrolled and willy nilly. I ended up in the hygiene section. Now...this isn't an aisle that I'm really all that familiar with. Sure...I shower. But I don't tend to gravitate to all those secret beauty rituals that all the other women seem so competent with but that I sadly was left out of. Most of my teenagehood, I resembled a 12 year old boy. Then I got boobs. I was told they were a rather impressive set. But that was before breast feeding. Now...well...lets just say they are impressive in different categories now. I never really felt the need to buy all that goobly gook that made women smell nice and feel so soft. Maybe I deluded myself into thinking that I was just naturally soft and nice smelling so I didn't worry about it. Or...maybe I decided that men were so distracted by my boobs that I didn't need to worry about exfoliating my elbows. But yesterday..suddenly....I wanted it. I wanted to take on the calluses on my heels, I wanted to rid myself of the peach fuzz on my chin...I wanted a bikini line...damn it. So I started putting all kinds of widgets and dodads in my cart. Creams and waxes, special razors to make your heels soft and supple. I had a picture in my head of my feet while we were on our river trip a few months ago. The cuticles were cracked, the skin was dry and wrinkly, there was dirt embedded deep down underneath my toe nails....they looked just like a pair of monkey feet. I think about my monkey feet every time I slip underneath the covers. If hubby is in an amorous mood, he snuggles up close and I hide my monkey feet.
So...last night...after the kids were in bed, I went into the bathroom, locked and closed the door behind me and I emerged three hours later. I felt like I had just learned the password to a secret club of women only. I left the bathroom a disaster. A jar of green sticky slime, a brown granulated substance running down the side of the tub (it was sea salt if you must know), dead skin everywhere, small black eyebrow hairs peppered the sink... but damn, I felt smooth. And soft. And.... I smelled good. Too bad Jason was NOT in an amorous mood. In fact, we've been fighting for the past few days. No monkey feet last night baby. But only my soft cotton sheets knew the goodness of my soft and delicate skin.
I never quite know what I'm going to blog about before I start. I also never know for sure when I'm done with my post until I am done. I should go back and check for spelling errors and edit my awkward verbage. But if I do...I will probably just delete the whole damn thing.
So with that....I make an end of July's post. Perhaps if I am commanded to do so, I'll post again. Assuming anyone out there cares and is still reading (and I doubt you are because I've been so flaky with this business). At least my epidermis isn't flaky!
I don't want to talk about religion tonight. (even though I've got some juicy stories stored in my vault). I don't want to talk about politics. I don't want to talk about my recent vacation. (to the Idaho cabin where on a beautiful walk one morning on a dirt road that opened up into a meadow with an impressive display of wildflowers set in a background of a stereotypical big Western blue sky surrounded by the White Clouds and the Sawtooth Mtns....you feelin' the love yet?.... I resolved that as soon as I'm able, I'm going to buy some land and live there all the time. If I'm still married, he can come. If I'm not, he can still come and visit, but only now and then. I think I just talked myself out of my parenthetical statement. No...no..no... I don't want to talk about any of that.
I want to talk about yesterday. Yesterday I was in an odd mood. The day started out okay, with a visit to the Farmers Market. Initially I was really overwhelmed by it all, the smells, the people, the food. I had too many choices and I felt paralyzed. In the end, I only bought a handful of cherries, a couple onions, some lettuce and a small peach/blue raspberry Italian Ice. I told Jason I was too busy for this, but ended up walking down to the Gateway where I knew he was taking the kids to see the new kid's movie "Wall-E". He wasn't at all surprised to see me. Of course, he wouldn't have been surprised not to see me either. The movie evoked strange emotions in me. It was a hyperbole of where we humans might find ourselves if we don't change our abusive habits. It was a kid's green flick. Sort of like the dancing penguins movie but with a scarier twist. By the end of the movie.... embarrassing perhaps to admit this...I was crying. Crying because the message behind this was too overwhelming for me at the moment. Perhaps it was because of the Market with all the choices of fresh food, and the smell of basil and onions. It really wasn't the movie itself that made me cry, it was the thought that we really could lose this all. I've heard it said that right now we are in a critical position, where if we change our current trajectory perhaps we can avoid what some people are calling the inevitable after we've used up and/or spoiled our natural resources. What will the future generations say about us if we do nothing? If we continue to add to the problem? I thought about my black SUV waiting to take me home and realized that the old adage that if you aren't part of the solution, then you are part of the problem...fit all too uncomfortably well.
On my way home, I decided to stop at the library. This is where the mania of the past few days veers it's ugly head. I initially stopped only to find some books about how to teach myself and the kids how to reduce our carbon footprint. I grabbed a basket and filled it to the top. Then I balanced more books in my free hand until a nice library worker handed me another basket which I filled to the top. I wandered into random aisles and picked up books on "how to organize your life"...."the case against the global economy"...a parenting book...and several books on how to write a business plan. When I was finally finished with my ravenous library kill...I had two baskets and more books tucked underneath my arm and I was headin' to the check out. I had more books than I could possibly read between now and when they are due...even if I spent all my waking hours doing only this. As of yet...I have not opened a single one of them. But the business plan books will be cracked tonight. Yes Sir. Tonight. (been saying I'm gonna write that damn business plan and by Joe I'm gonna get crackin.)
They say that blogging is so free form, stream of consciousness, lacks cohesion, self aborbed explosion of the id. yeah....SO???
After my library adventure...I got back into my Earth hating vehicle. (feeling a little less guilty because now by damn, I was taking action). I decided that I'd head to the grocery store. Only on the way I was listening to something that could be considered "classical". I usually only tolerate classical for brief periods but for some reason this completely sucked me in. I made it to the store but sat in my car and let myself fall into a bit of a trance. It was almost like for a moment...I became part of the music. I can't say much more about it because the experience was so nonverbal and to try and explain it would be so analytical that it would ruin it. I'm sure most people have experienced this at some point in their lives, so no explanation is necessary. You know what I mean, don't you. ( I left out the question mark because I want to say this more like a statement than a question). There I was..sitting in Dan's parking lot in the car with the windows rolled up while the sun pumped out the high 90's ....closing my eyes, blaring the classics. No one seemed to notice. If they did, I didn't notice them. After a while, it led to a day dream about dying right then and there. Killed by the classics, (and from the heat). Which sparked some life back into me and I staggered into the grocery store.
Initally...it was a bread and milk sort of store run. I haven't shopped in two weeks. It evolved into something much bigger, as I strolled down the various aisles. Typically, I hate this kind of shopping. It's so uncontrolled and willy nilly. I ended up in the hygiene section. Now...this isn't an aisle that I'm really all that familiar with. Sure...I shower. But I don't tend to gravitate to all those secret beauty rituals that all the other women seem so competent with but that I sadly was left out of. Most of my teenagehood, I resembled a 12 year old boy. Then I got boobs. I was told they were a rather impressive set. But that was before breast feeding. Now...well...lets just say they are impressive in different categories now. I never really felt the need to buy all that goobly gook that made women smell nice and feel so soft. Maybe I deluded myself into thinking that I was just naturally soft and nice smelling so I didn't worry about it. Or...maybe I decided that men were so distracted by my boobs that I didn't need to worry about exfoliating my elbows. But yesterday..suddenly....I wanted it. I wanted to take on the calluses on my heels, I wanted to rid myself of the peach fuzz on my chin...I wanted a bikini line...damn it. So I started putting all kinds of widgets and dodads in my cart. Creams and waxes, special razors to make your heels soft and supple. I had a picture in my head of my feet while we were on our river trip a few months ago. The cuticles were cracked, the skin was dry and wrinkly, there was dirt embedded deep down underneath my toe nails....they looked just like a pair of monkey feet. I think about my monkey feet every time I slip underneath the covers. If hubby is in an amorous mood, he snuggles up close and I hide my monkey feet.
So...last night...after the kids were in bed, I went into the bathroom, locked and closed the door behind me and I emerged three hours later. I felt like I had just learned the password to a secret club of women only. I left the bathroom a disaster. A jar of green sticky slime, a brown granulated substance running down the side of the tub (it was sea salt if you must know), dead skin everywhere, small black eyebrow hairs peppered the sink... but damn, I felt smooth. And soft. And.... I smelled good. Too bad Jason was NOT in an amorous mood. In fact, we've been fighting for the past few days. No monkey feet last night baby. But only my soft cotton sheets knew the goodness of my soft and delicate skin.
I never quite know what I'm going to blog about before I start. I also never know for sure when I'm done with my post until I am done. I should go back and check for spelling errors and edit my awkward verbage. But if I do...I will probably just delete the whole damn thing.
So with that....I make an end of July's post. Perhaps if I am commanded to do so, I'll post again. Assuming anyone out there cares and is still reading (and I doubt you are because I've been so flaky with this business). At least my epidermis isn't flaky!
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