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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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'm baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!

How can I ignore the cajoling of a happy heretic! At dinner a couple weeks ago, it was brought to my attention that my blog "sucks" now. I can't say that I disagree. However, I'm not sure it has been alive enough to suck. It's not that I haven't had my moments of wonder and dismay...worthy enough for a full on blog bitch....but my spontaneous expression has been a bit more internal lately. I'm not exactly sure why, I've come to believe that perhaps it isn't something that I fully or at least consciously control. But I do miss engaging with my blogger friends. I was thinking about this in the shower this morning. (the fact that I was in the shower is a purely incidental detail) ...it's just where I happen to have some of my deepest thoughts. Deep thoughts like... "I wonder if the new brand of dog food is what is giving my dog such terrible nose-hair curling gas" or.... "exactly how many days do I have until my kids are all pleasantly back in school?" ...or..."no I think it was the asparagus he stole from the garbage can yesterday"...or..."oih! (looking down)..I really need to do more situps". My thoughts ping and pong through my head most of the day. Sometimes, when I'm lucky...every now and then, I get them rolling on a nice cohesive logic train...but it doesn't take much to derail them. Maybe this is why I've avoided the blog...because it will force me to sit down and lay something out there in black and white and that takes a certain amount of committment, which, as with all commitment, also has it's fair share of fear. In this case, I am committing to ideas. I am incontrollablly open most of the time, a shameless external processor... and the part of me that is usually bound and gagged, the part who actually fears this openness took over for a while. Leaving me subject to "the protector"..."the sentinal"...."the censorer"..."the social filter". So ...now that I believe I have come to the end of my excuses ......I will now say...

"screw you sentinal....I want out."

(although the fact that I said "screw you" instead of "fuck you" makes me wonder how untethered I really am, despite my brave acclaimations)


So I'm out now. Reinvented I suppose, with my new name and my new blog. But not really. I'm just strongly attracted to clean slates. That's all this is. But it's still me writing on this slate, so I don't suppose that anything will be different other than the name.

However,...I do feel this odd sensation lately. Like I've turned some kind of corner and yet I don't really understand this very much yet. I feel.... sort of.... well.... I guess I feel "grown up." I think that might describe it. I also feel happy. Not a constant giddy, just got off the rollar coaster kind of feeling...but more of a settled kind of peace inside. A peace that is there despite what hell might be exploding around me, when it is...and its even there when nothing is happening around me (which might be a context worse than the exploding hell). I'm not sure what I can attribute this to... and I'm not sure it is something that I can fully trust yet. I've been meditating a lot lately. I've also (mostly) cut out sugar, enriched white flour and high fructose corn syrup from my diet....which gives me more energy, but can it also make me happier? Was the emptiness I have felt for long really so easily filled by a bowl of oatmeal and a handful of blueberries?

A good friend recommended a counselor that I've seen a few times and I'm now involving my husband in this activity (which is another way of saying "marriage counseling")... I really like this counselor. I've seen a few and I think she is probably the best match for my personality so far. She is firm, but kind and very smart. To me, she seems like the wise old sage on the hill and maybe I feel happier and more adult lately by what I've come to learn about myself through the discussions I've had with her, and the subsequent reflections on these conversations. It makes me think of this idea of "the other" which I think I've explored before on my former blog...about how important the role of "the other" is in coming to understand oneself. Often I think we use what we are not in order to define what we are. Maybe that is what I was gettin' at with this new blog. I believe I've done a lot of exploring what I'm not. But I'd like to talk more about who and what I am. It all begs the question of how it is that we form our identities. What do we use to define it? (religion..sports...career) and how we can use these same identity markers as something we can also hide behind. Thus protecting ourselves from others, and maybe even from ourselves and when we do, I think we get lost. More than lost...when we disconnect like this, we become vacant.

No man is an island right? We all need "the other", even (or maybe especially) when we don't want to admit this. I realize the tone of this post is becoming a bit "saccharine" (I've got to get my sugar fix somehow eh?) and perhaps bordering on the cliche. But as I've turned my corner, I have to look at what is now in front of me. What I think I see around this corner is a longing for connection. I want connection with the Nature that sustains me, with the Community that surrounds me (yes even with those crazy Mormons!), and with "Beauty" ...a concept that others with a more traditional mindset might call "God".

I have some plans for how to satisfy that longing for "connection". But alas...I am going to save that for another post as it is getting late and what I am currently longing for is to connect with my pillow.

San Juan

SAN JUAN.... beautiful. cold. a portal to the sacred!!