It seems I mumble in my sleep. And I dream of bacon. More bacon, to be exact. I don’t remember that particular dream, but the man says it’s so and I guess I have to believe him. It does sound like something I’d say, though. I love bacon.
Bonus bacon today: we had the guy out here to work on the internet and tv connection. Everything’s working really well now and I actually have wi-fi! Ahhhh, yes! It’s like Christmas morning for a 5-year old. For the first time in 7 or 8 months, I’m writing from my laptop. No more juggling flash drives with photos or waiting for a connection (while the other person grumbles about no tv). We be back in business!
As for my birthday weekend, it was absolutely delightful. I had a wonderful time and have spent the last two days recovering. Lots of rest and relaxation after doing a lot of walking and sweating (it wasn’t particularly warm on Saturday, but Ren Faire garb tends not to be super light or airy).
Thanks to everyone for the birthday greetings! Big love going back to all of you.
P.S. Don’t forget: whatever else you do, always ask for more bacon.
Ah, yes. That time of year again. First it’s a blogiversary and then this.
My drink of choice:
Please take a few moments today to celebrate with me. Sit down in a quiet place with a cool beverage in hand and join me as I thank my lucky stars for the many blessings life has brought my way. Know that I thank you all for your love and kindness over the years. Know that my birthday wishes include only the best for all of you.
Now, let’s get to the cake! (Flavor: anything your heart desires)
Let me preface this by saying: I am not an American Idol fan. It’s not a show that’s really in my wheelhouse at all. So, why am I writing about the show now? Because King Arthur loves it and I love him. He watches, so I watch alongside him. I don’t have to pay attention to anything going on. I can play Sudoku on my cell phone or text friends while it’s going on. He wants to be with me, I endure. The one thing that I can do and do enjoy is that I can tell you what kind of reaction the judges will have and who is the next to go home. You know me and my love for music! I’ve known for the last four weeks who’d be going home and who would win, simply because I know my music, I know what a singer should bring to a performance, and who has the reach to gain a bigger audience once they’re through with the show. So, for the first time in my life, I’m regularly watching Idol and I’m now officially pissed off at one of their stunts.
Last night? I plugged my ears during Mariah’s performance and largely ignored the majority of everything else. Except! Except when they had a little sketch dealing with the males’ eliminations. They called it “Sabotage”. During this skit, they showed the girls talking the guys into telling jokes during their time on stage, wearing crazy clothing, dropping drugs into one contestant’s drink, stealing another contestant’s “lunch money”, and…SCREEEEEEEEEEEECH!
What? Since when did slippin’ a couple mickeys into a drink become okay (as done by the youngest contestant this season)? Since when did “bullying” become okay? Even only in jest. Let’s think about this for a moment: millions of kids watch this show. They’re impressionable. They aren’t all old enough to know that this is just pretend and supposed to be silly. And they observe their favorites doping one another and then holding another one upside down as they shake all the money from his person.
Bad idea, AI writers! Really. Bad. Idea. Colossally bad idea. ENORMOUSLY HUGE BAD IDEA!
Earlier yesterday, a Los Angeles high school was shut down after one girl stabbed another in the bathroom. At another LA area school had graffiti sprayed all over it targeting black students, saying, “Ni@@ers gotta die!” And a couple college campuses were shut down because someone called in a threat of an attack. Tell me again how bullying of any sort is “all in fun”. It’s not. It’s a fact of life for far too many young kids and here is one of the most watched shows in the country treating it as a joke.
And the whole dropping a couple pills into a drink thing? Excuse the hell outta me! That’s just so OBVIOUSLY wrong and in poor taste. Poor JUDGMENT! Ya feel me here on this one, folks?
A couple years back, in San Diego, someone spiked a teacher’s drink with hallucinogens. Funny? No. Teacher got very ill. I’ve heard it’s happened elsewhere as well. Plus we know this happens frequently in pick-up bars and at parties. It’s NOT COOL! It’s NOT FUNNY!
So I feel American Idol‘s writers and entire team of producers and directors, and even the participants in the skit, should apologize out the ass to the entire nation and they should have to run endless PSAs about how none of these “funny” actions are really funny and that they are, in fact, inappropriate joke material for a show with a rather large young audience. Drugging someone is ILLEGAL. Drugging someone to win a contest is also illegal and downright immoral. If you need to cheat to win, then guess what? Give up and go home, practice your craft more. But play fair.
I wonder if any of the contestants who had to participate in this charming sketch had any reservations about doing it. I hope they did. I hope they at least talked someone out of showing the girls ganging up on the boys and killing them one by one.
Shame on you, AI!
I’m so seriously ticked off about this that I had to get out of bed to write this little screed.
A television show aimed at families, aimed at young people, should never make light of such serious topics.
All in fun, my ass.
The American Idol team responsible for greenlighting that bit of insanity has some ‘splainin’ to do if you as me.
If you’re a fan of the show, what did YOU think about? (I didn’t care who won, even though I knew it could ONLY be Candice, but that’s not the question I’m asking. So focus on the “all for a laugh” horror show they gave us and let me know what you thought. Also tell FOX.
I’ve been blogging for 11 years at this point. It’s a rather curious thing to me to still be at it after all this time.
I’m certain I’m no better a writer than I was when I started, but I know I’m a better editor for it. I’m no better a person than I was when I started, but I’m far more enriched by the friends I’ve made along the way. I hope in some way I’m a better friend as the result — not from blogging, but from the lessons of their friendship. I’m happier now than I was when I began. Sure, there have been many changes in my life along the way, but I am finally content to be who I am, proud of the two children who inhabit my heart, loving the right man, being loved by the right man, living in the right home, and just…to be.
There is no guarantee of where I’ll be tomorrow or the next day, week, month, or year. There is no guarantee of anything in this life (except death, no?). Yet, because of this blog, because of the wonderful friends and discoveries I’ve made along the way, I’m okay without any guarantees.
Don’t know about you, but I’m looking forward to the next adventure lying around the next corner. And, I hope you’ll still be around the campfire for the tales as they arise.
According to Classic Rock Magazine the worst bands of the nineties shakes out to look a little something like this:
3. Limp Bizkit
6. Hootie and the Blowfish
8. Spin Doctors
9. Ace of Base
10. Dave Matthews Band
Only thing missing from the list is all the rap/hip hop crap and Beck. I can deal with Hanson. I can deal with Hootie. I can deal with Spin Doctors and Nirvana. Still and all, I’m thrilled to see my two least favorite bands at the top of the list. Makes a girl happy to know there are others with as much disdain for mediocrity as I.
“You’ve seen the monster, now I invite you to quit stalking me,” I said, as coolly as I could muster. “Do you have any other business to take care of with him?”
“I’m not stalking you,” she said.
“Then why are you suddenly following me on Facebook? Are you done with all business between the two of you?”
A look of panic crossed her face and she sputtered a bit before replying, “I’m not! I’m not following you anywhere.”
“I get notifications when someone follows me on Facebook. So, if you’re done with him you should be DONE with him. No stalking allowed.”
“Oh, uh, well, I…uh…I was just curious.”
I did my best to keep it together. It wasn’t easy. I’ve been there, done that enough in the past to know I don’t want to play these games with anyone ever again. “Be curious no more. You’ve been blocked and now it’s truly over.”
I watched her drive away and walked back to the car. I waited for King Arthur to finish up in the bank. He finally showed up at the car and I asked if he was okay.
“Not really. I didn’t want to have to deal with her and I don’t like what’s been going on,” he replied.
“I know, babe. But it’s done now. Let’s go take care of our business and shake off the crap.”
He looked at me and I knew it was going to be okay. No more of this ex-girlfriend shit to deal with. No more of her games. If she tries anything else, she’s the one who’ll have trouble on her hands. She was the one who went around bragging (to his friends…and WHO DOES THAT??) how she stole money from him and she’s the one who’ll have to answer for it should she continue to mess with him.
The road to happiness isn’t always easy, but once you get over the really big potholes, it sure is worth it.
I’m on a weird sort of merry-go-round of exhaustion. Barely made it through Monday. Was dead dog tired yesterday. Today? I’m just sore and fatigued, and yet, I’m unable to nap.
Since it’s evening, I will just stay up until it’s time to go to bed and then hope to hell I can somehow sleep well enough that this weekend isn’t ruined.
Speaking of this weekend, one of the best things to come of this new relationship is the Ren faire guild and their amazing reading program. They believe in creating readers as soon as possible — children who read do better in school, and in life, than non-readers. Of course, I know any of you following the blog are fans of reading, too, so it’s we’re all cool on that front. But, to band together with a bunch of other like-minded folks and actively promote reading is just such a blessing!
While faire is all fun and games for the adults, the fact that we get to do something very positive for the children is just aces in my book.
Yeah. I punned. That’s how tired I am. I can’t be helped.
God, please get me through the next 24 hours with lots of rest!
If I’m ever to be a pirate or a pirate’s lady, this, for certain, is how I wish to appear. I know not her name nor from where she hails, but I gazed upon her with admiration. This is how I want to look. Fearless, bold — in a word, audacious; even a little bawdy if I desire. I want to be a pirate’s dream and charm the serpents of the seas. Someday I shall.
A cat, nearby and unseen, cries, giving voice to the restlessness I’m feeling. My cigarette slowly burns, more as a companion than anything in the middle of the night. I hear a train approach and then watch as the cars pass; I cannot count the cars as it’s still far too dark for that sort of activity. I inhale the lovely fragrance of the night blooming jasmine just steps away from where I am. The man I love slumbers in our bed.
When I return to the warmth of our home, I cannot embrace my sleeplessness as I normally would — with laundry or dishes I could be washing — for fear of waking my darling. My eyelids are heavy but not heavy enough to carry me back to bed.
At some point, my King Arthur wakes to find me gone and he calls out to me. I let him know I’m okay, “Baby, I just can’t sleep.” He comes to me and holds me. He scratches my back for me, whispers in my ear of his love for me.
I grab a bottle of water and head to the bedroom, stopping for a bathroom break. I sit alone in the dark and wonder why I can’t sleep but that brings me no comfort at all. I try lying down once again. The relentless twitchiness I feel makes it impossible to remain in bed, so I get dressed and head out to the library again where I catch up on emails and blog reading. Anything to fight off the loneliness of being awake while most slumber.
Another train approaches. It’s smaller this time and the sound is somewhat muffled by the closed door. I almost step outside just to see if I might be able to count the cars, though I think better of it. No need to go outside again until my body is hot enough to warrant a little of the “almost chill” night air.
So I remain inside, glued to the computer. Perhaps I’ll get a little work done. Perhaps not so much. Either way, I’ll survive this night.
If I had no conscience, I would wake my partner and spend time in his great company, but he needs his sleep. We have a busy day ahead of us and he needs to rest as much as he can. Instead, I ponder how much I love him and how lucky I am to have him in my life, to be living with someone so dear and thoughtful and calming and charming and intoxicating. Just thinking of him makes my heart beat faster. I want to be near him; surrounded by the sounds and the breath of his slumber. Maybe we’d read together or talk and laugh about nothing. Maybe we could play a game or watch a movie. Again, I cannot allow him to walk away from the sleep he so desperately needs right now.
Tip tap tip tap tip tap, I go along as I let the words flow from my fingers. I do this as quietly as possible. I’m lonely, but I’m not selfish enough to ask for the one thing, the only thing, that will relax me enough to find slumber soon. The computer will be my friend for now as I wait for the Sandman to visit me once more. At least, I hope he will. Until that time, I’ll write what I feel and meditate upon the marvelous gift of love, of hearth and home, of simple things that bring me such joy as to make my eyes mist up a dozen times a day. I’ll dwell not on the worries. I’ll not revisit regrets or grievances, for really, I have so few. I will just pass the time as productively as possible until sleep envelops me, if ever it does.
This is the life of an insomniac. An insomniac with a blog.
Death is not the end of us. True, we won’t be physically present once we’re dead, but our memories will linger in those who loved — and hated — us. So why not give them a reason to rejoice? Celebrate their memories of us! Celebrate their LIVING and their LIFE! Sing! Dance! There will still be time for crying, but why not also…just…celebrate?
I truly believe the best way to remember those who die is to revel in their memories and celebrate the good times we’ve shared.
Brava, Swinton! Your friend would have loved your dancing!
Brava, Chaz! You gave your husband a brilliant send-off party!
I thought I had posts lined up and ready to go. I really did.
And I didn’t check because I’ve been busy.
I was housesitting.
Then I moved.
And then I…yeah, I said, “I moved.”
What? I didn’t mention it was happening? Well, that’s because it was something I wasn’t sure was going to happen until it did.
I’m still in SoCal. I’m just a bit further up the freeway than I was before.
It’s a good thing.
Now, about those missing posts. I think the dog ate them. Maybe it was the cat, since there wasn’t a dog. There was, however, the cat. In addition to housesitting, I was taking care of a cat. So, that’s where I lay the blame. The cat.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
Also, if you’re in the area this weekend or next: Ren Faire! Come to Pirates’ Cove and say hello.
…I wonder how good they can be. How do they know when they’re done?
I ran into an old boyfriend today as I was leaving my mom’s house. Seeing this man always makes me super reflective and today was no different. Except that we laughed so hard over the “blind cleaners” truck he saw earlier. Our responses were exactly the same. Yeah, I do tend to attract like minds.
But back to this man and how I end up feeling after I see him. Because this is a tough thing for me. Part of me truly regrets not being a better judge of character and sticking with him — a good guy — instead of being aloof and just generally not the kind of person he always imagined me to be. He’s held me in high esteem all these years. And I do mean YEARS. As in 30. At least.
Yeah, weird, huh?
I still beat myself up about being young and foolish, young and stupid.
Because I wish I had been half the person he thought I was back then.
Deep down, I know I was a good person. But I was skittish and flighty and not as respectful to kind people as I wish I had been. I wish I had been nicer to him, had let him down more easily, had been more honest with myself even in not knowing whether or not I was ready for a Good Guy in My Life. That’s a very specific time in a young woman’s life, is it not?
So whenever I see my delivery man (who once showed me a photo of his “I married her because she reminded me of you” wife), I reflect long and hard about who I was and who I am.
Right now, I can’t say everything in life is perfect, but I can say I’m happy to be a parent to two really lovely children, the former wife of a man who was once my best friend, a daughter who loves her parents, an occasionally nice sister, and a woman who has borne the wear and tear of life with some modicum of dignity. I’ve made it through 46+ years. I’ve learned how NOT to treat people. How NOT to hurt them. How it’s better to be quiet sometimes, and speak loudly at other times. I’ve learned a lot and grown over time. I’m still making mistakes, but hopefully making fewer, and hopefully not repeating the same ones over and over again.
Thus, I came away from my encounter today wistful and smiling more than I usually do after I see my friend. I feel better than I normally do because I am more confident in who I am, warts and all.
I’ve taken off my blinders and cleaned up my act, I guess you could say. And that ties in almost as well as one could hope with the title of the post.
I’m going back to my music and memories, dwelling there just a bit longer, for no other reason than to keep my future on track.
P.S. Does anyone else ever think “wistful” should be spelt with an “h”…as in “whistful”?
I had originally typed “Momday Memories”, which is probably the most accurate title I could give this post.
Here’s my darling girl at about age 2. We were out on the bay with the whole family for a day of sailing. LD wasn’t yet a glimmer in my eye, but Mojo was absolutely the apple…of…my…eye…Yikes! Talk about stretching that one out, eh?
So, here she is, my beautiful baby. I love this photo!