Insomniac’s Post

Da Goddess @ 05:31

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.

Yes, I Really Want Dancing at My Memorial Service

Da Goddess @ 03:42

I think Roger Ebert went out with great style.

2013 Dance Along

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!


Where Did the Time Go?

Da Goddess @ 18:04

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: Faire! Come to Pirates’ Cove and say hello.



Da Goddess @ 17:01


I absolutely fell in love with the photographs in post at Digital Photography School — all about the way children used to be photographed.

It’s simply wonderful.

I love the fact that most of these images capture the kids as they are. Of course, there are the more formal shots that are too precious for words.

My favorites are: the little one with the ice skates and the pillow tied to his bottom, and the little girl photographing the dog. Absolute classics.


Two-Fer Tuesday: More Ryan Bingham

Da Goddess @ 04:25

I’m ruminating far too much today. Lots on my mind and I’m trying to crawl out of the navel-gazing that’s going on within me (I know, that’s a bit redundant). Enjoy some Bingham.



Blind Cleaners

Da Goddess @ 19:31

…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”?

Monday Memories: Mojo Part III

Da Goddess @ 04:44

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!

Mojo at the beach


Covered in Rabbit Fur

Da Goddess @ 19:41

You’ll never guess what I’ve been doing all day.

Go on. Try to guess. (more…)


Monday Memories: LD Part I

Da Goddess @ 04:44

Time for a quick look at Little Dude back in the day.

One of the best daycare providers on earth was our dear Shannon, or Shanny, as the kids called her. She knew all the fun things happening around town and always made sure her daycare kids got to partake in whatever was going on. Case in point: pony rides and photos at McDonald’s (of all places!).

LD on a pony


Recipe Needed

Da Goddess @ 23:44

Anyone with a good recipe for cockatiel?

Bird brain is about to have his life ended abruptly if he keeps attacking my dad and me.

Photo Reveal

Da Goddess @ 23:40

For those who didn’t chase down the answer on FB or Twitter, my what post was:

It’s my one-earred rhino keychain.

the one-earred rhino



Da Goddess @ 20:31

When did I get so old that I get worn out with the least little exertion?

Wednesday: tore down a tree with LD.

Thursday: slugged about most of the day after cleaning.

Friday: cleaned more. Chilled.

Saturday: concert. Shot a lot. Good times.

Sunday: Easter dinner at sister’s. Goofed off with the kids.

Monday: interview. Drive home was hell. I wanted to sleep the entire way. Came home, ate, and slept. Went to the bathroom, got water, went back to sleep. Woke up, checked email, wrote this post. 20:30 and I want to go to bed.

At this rate, I may actually get to laundry by Friday.

Monday Memories: Mojo Part II

Da Goddess @ 04:51

So many wonderful memories come flooding back as I look through the photos of when the kids were little, but none are quite as special as those of Mojo in the early days. What a funny kid she was! She still is, too.

I think this was her second “official” shoot in her uncle’s studio. She got so comfortable in there as a wee one that she’d wander in alone and carefully touch lights or stands and say, “baby, baby!” which is what her uncle would always say to get her attention during a shoot. Today, getting a nice photo of her is near impossible. It’s all mugging and goofing off. Kids!

Mojo singing and playing

Mojo in a basket