Moon Sleeves

intriguing

2011-06-28T19:59:00.000-07:00

it is amazing the things that you learn about your family over the course of a few weeks.

my grandmother is slowly losing her mind. i didnt believe my mom when she said that nan was more like a ghost than anything anymore, but, when i walked in the door and she looked at me... it took a minute, maybe a minute more to register that i was there and my children were with me. we go to see her in the morning but honestly i just dont want to.

before my grandfather died, the family took a picture, it was probably when my dad was three or four, and nan is smiling from ear to ear. and i have never in my 27 years seen that smile on this woman's face. she was genuinely happy, but when grandfather died, all that went away. two years later, dad was 7 or maybe 8 years old when his older brother, mike, was called to vietnam. while he was gone, nan told them all that if mike died, she would kill them all and herself as well, because she couldnt handle the stress. my poor dad. i thought i had it pretty bad at times, but never have i been scared for my life.

that really answers a few questions about dad and his behavior towards certain things. he stresses out when i fly, worried about my safety constantly, sending me texts to make sure i made my plane, found my seat, landed safely, etc. when i land i need to text or call him to let him know i got to my destination.

mom told me all of this, shakes her head and says, 'we had pretty crappy childhoods, didn't we?' i promptly told her that mine wasn't as bad as hers and dads to which she cut me off and said i did and 'don't lie, we shoved religion down your throat till you choked. you and michael both.'

well thats true.

i can go on, but really, i'm tired of hearing it myself. it's one of those things where you really can't do anything else but to shake your head and say, 'good grief'.

more? maybe later.

If I could Bash my head

2011-06-15T15:51:00.000-07:00

Mood: Stressed Out
Music: Waitress - Tori Amos

Today and yesterday were not good days. The kids went overboard on not listening, not obeying, staying out of the fridge, pulling each other's hair, biting, kicking, punching, screaming... the list goes on. Yesterdays weather was nice so we went to the playground in Snyder Park, and the kids ran off some steam. But after Jack's nap, they went wild.

Nearly tried to put them to bed at 7:30 last night but knew that it wouldnt work and they'd only get more irate. Which they did, even though I didn't try to put them to bed.

Today was a rainy day, which kept us inside, which keeps them hyper and just magnets for getting into trouble. Especially Jack. I swear, he cried for ten minutes straight. About what, I don't know but, he just wouldn't stop, nothing would make him happy.

They are now watching Little Einsteins, and being quiet, so I'm happy for that moment of peace that I am currently experiencing.

Mom went to the Doc's today for a post-op check up and they kept her even longer than normal because they were checking to make sure Mom didn't have blood clots. Great. This poor woman needs help doing small, seemingly meaningless things, and now she has to worry about blood clots?

Good job, Doc. Thanks for freaking out my mom.

Interrupted Day

2011-06-15T14:42:00.000-07:00

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
Jack, please just-
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
Go sit down!
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
Please let Mommy just for a sec-
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
Don't pull your sisters hair!
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
Get out of the fridge, young man!
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
Get out of GranMommy's room!
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
Just-
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
Plea-
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

-End
copyright M. Rae Saffer 2011

interjection

2011-06-13T20:48:00.000-07:00

Decisions, decisions,
to improve one's position,
ain't it lucky that i-
am in love in poverty?
to be handed the hand-outs
and then rebuked in being without.
oh, it's such a shame to be me.

2011-06-10T16:17:00.000-07:00

Mood: Wierd
Music: Home - Michael Buble

I feel a little off in coming back to Ohio. In some ways, it's as if I never left, and in others... I want to go home. In ways I feel as though I'm being bombarded, and in others, I feel welcomed; the long, lost daughter from across the country returns.

Today, I helped Dad out and vacuumed the church. While there, a woman I dispise stopped by and started in on me. She has the personality equavalent to nails running across a chalk board, in short, I wasn't thrilled to see her. Conversation went to something like this:
Nikki: HEY MELLISSA! WELCOME BACK!
Me: Hi, Nikki.
Nikki: How long you staying for?
Me: Oh, about a month.
Nikki: You can stay longer.
Me: Well, I have a husband in Utah who's waiting for me, so...
Nikki: He can wait longer.
Me: No, no he really can't.
Nikki: Well, tell him to come here then.
Me: He kinda can't. School, and all that.
Nikki: He's going to the wrong school, convince him to come here.
Me: I really don't want to. (Walks away)

True story.

I asked Dad if I could watch some MSNBC and he looked at me as if I had some horrific disease on my face. "Really?" he asked increduously. "Yeah," I replied. "I like to watch Rachel Maddow." He scoffed and continued to watch FoxNews.

While we were in the car today, he flipped on the radio and Rush Limbaugh was on. "No!" Protest sounds were made. "if you want me to go any where with you, Rush Limbaugh, Sean Hannity or any of the others will not be heard." I was then called a communist to which I promtly corrected him and said I was social democrat, 'but that was beside the point.'

more shall be writ later.

friday, Friday, FRIDAY!

2011-05-06T10:02:00.000-07:00

Mood: Slightly Optimistic
Music: Feelin' Good - Michael Buble

So! Tonight the husband and I shall be going out to see THOR! I've been waiting for this one. I really, really, really hope it's as good as the trailer looks, if it is not, I will walk out of the theatre with this face 0______0,

There will be tears if they screw this up.

But I mean come on; Kenneth Branuagh directs, it has Sir Anthony Hopkins in it, as well as Natalie Portman and BTW, why does it seem like Natalie Portman is in nearly every movie coming out?

There's a feeling of summer in the air today, as it was yesterday. It's a teaser, it's a taste of things to come. I would almost border it on being a cock tease, but only in that flirtatious way. :)

A few of husband's former co-workers are going to go see it so we're getting together with them. It'll be a good time, cross your fingers please. Maybe I can introduce them over to Bakery & Brews, my new favorite coffee house, after the movie.

For Them.

2011-03-18T09:41:00.000-07:00

Mood: aggravated
Music: waitress - tori amos

it's going to be one of those days. i can just tell.

but enough about that. i feel like all this blog has become is one big, long, drawn-out rant on being emo. and i'm done with that, at least for today.

this is jack. he's a mans. isn't he beautiful? he is also nearly 40 lbs., and not even 3. Currently, Jack has the ability to take me on in a matter of strength and will. i still win.... but barely. in the near future, i fear, he will be able to pwn me. for right now though, he likes to snuggle. i'm afraid that in time, he will not want to do this anymore, like when he becomes a teenager, then he'll have no time for me, or think i'm some type of embarrassment to him in front of his friends. i'm content with him following me around though, even if it annoys the ever-loving crap out of me sometimes.

this is pene. or in the words of my mother, "the spittin' image" of me. while she has a lot of her father's interests, like science, volcanoes, bugs, and making up silly songs. she also captures most of my not-so-glamorous qualities and grace. i am told by many people that she will be a heart breaker when she hits her teenage years, and for that i am half thankful, half scared of the consequences of having a beautiful daughter. although, her curiosities are nearly killing our new cat, dandi.

they are 3 and 2 and the light of my life. the driving force for most of my decisions.

oh dear.

2011-03-15T15:26:00.000-07:00

shits about to hit the fan.

i honestly do not know what will happen within the next 24 hours, so keep your fingers crossed and pray for me.

maybe im being paranoid, maybe im being over-dramatic, and i certainly hope that i am just being both but prudence and reason demand that i prepare myself for an outpouring of extreme emotion and extreme anger.

looks like the gov't snapped off a little more than i had hoped they would. and it's not his fault they did, it's mine. so maybe i can rectify this somehow.

i pray to God i can.

Rant (you are forwarned)

2011-02-26T08:39:00.000-08:00

It's difficult when you live with room mates. It's even more difficult when they don't understand personal boundaries or space. Take my room mate, for example, he does not understand the concept of 'you have a room, i have a room, let's be separate' type of thing. He doesn't have a bed, he has a sleeping bag and bed roll because he doesn't want to spend the 20$ at Wal-Mart to get himself a cot and in choosing to do this, he sneaks in here, pretends to sit down and chat with the first husband and then rolls over and falls asleep in my clean sheets, leaving his smell on them.

At first, I didnt mind, simply because I understood that he doesn't have a bed and the guy sleeps on the floor, so I gave him pity. But after a few months of saying, "Moon, can I go lay down in your bed?" It gets annoying...quickly.

We all became ridiculously sick last month, me with bronchitis and the babies with the flu, Jones had pneumonia and room mate had a worse case of pneumonia and room mate kept asking to sleep in our bed. Hmmm, let's think on this one; he's feverish, coughing up shite from his lungs, burying his head in my pillows to stifle his coughing. . . .yeah, no. I told him 'no' because I already had bronchitis and I didn't need pneumonia. And that's when the break in communication went south.

In what weeks followed was a lot of bitching and moaning about not having a bed and how it's totally unfair that he's reduced to sleeping his floor (which has now changed to him sleeping on the couch in the living room, making it equally inconvenient for the rest of us to sit anywhere.) and how it's not fair since we have a bed(futon), blah blah blah. THEN FUCKIN' DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT! go buy yourself a cot cheap at wal-mart, 'I don't want to buy a cot from wal-mart', then see about getting yourself a better bed roll, 'the one I want is too expensive' then you have made your choice because I do not want you sleeping in my bed.

Yesterday, I walked into our bedroom to find him wrapped up in blankets and sleeping soundly. My instant anger probably woke him, as soon as he opened his eyes he looks at me glaring while he's going, "....what?" I seethed with fury and through clenched teeth I said something along the lines of, "Get the fuck out of my bed... now." Incredulously he sat up going, "what? why?" The look of genuine confusion on his face, the muttering under his breath, the honest answer of, "I don't get it", is enough for my belief that his brain is broke.

We Interrupt this regularly scheduled program....

2011-02-11T09:58:00.000-08:00

Jubilee.

It's finally happened in Egypt. Mass uprising. Revolution. The dictator is done for, there's celebration in the streets and singing. In short, it is beautiful.

If you need proof of this awesome sight, take a look from DemocracyNow.org which is streaming live. NPR.org and PBS.org are other most excellent sites to see the amazing light of the people.

Vive la Revolucion!

Power to the People. One day we'll join you.

-Moon

3rd

2011-01-12T13:16:00.000-08:00

Mood: Odd
Music: Down to the Ground - Peter Gabriel

My daughter is currently walking around the living room talking about being a princess. She has a silver clip with little rhinestones in it and a ring with a blue plastic chip in the middle; not to mention her wand and crown that are strewn haphazardly on the floor. Jack woke up from his nap, he's been sick all this week.

its seem like i find myself uninteresting. i guess because i dont know a lot about science or philosophy. im ot an engineer, i dont think about computers, programming, or blender all day. i think about fairies, different worlds, vampires, shapeshifters and aliens. politics and literature. i guess that doesn't make me very interesting at all. since i really have no interest in helicopters but i politely listen and try to understand. i want to understand math but the concepts just escape me.

i feel listless and i have all these projects that i want to do, need to do and just havn't been able to do them. i collapse in bed from exhaustion from the day, even though according to some, i didn't do much and that hurts. some people just don't understand that chasing after babies and trying to clean up after them is a full time job, or at least it feels like it. a very long, very underpaid job.

i find myself going back into the same habits that i had when i was in ohio and new york. looking for that escape because life and reality, right now, are so shitty that it hurts to blink in this light, let alone act in it.

the second husband is on his way home, and i find myself wanting to be by myself more often than not. his bitching and complaining are driving me further and further away from men in general, let alone from his company.

Post the 2nd

2011-01-03T08:38:00.000-08:00

Mood: Annoyed
Music: Charlotte's Web in the background

Salt Lake City can bite me.

Winter can bite me, and my weak, fragile body can bite me too.

This ghetto apartment can bite me and the bitches who run it can bite me too.

This year has started shittily. Last year ended badly as well. So far I am off to a great start! Can't you tell?

I want to write a book but hey! bills need to be paid, children need to be fed, changed, bathed, played with, rocked to sleep, etc. with no room in my budget for a babysitter, nor daycare, it's frustrating to no end to try to do anything and be thwarted at every turn.

It is as if the very fabric of the universe pushes against me. And here I sit with every intention of getting things accomplished but i honestly do not see how it is possible.

I pray for clarity. But in all honesty, is He even listening? Does he see? Am i talking to the ceiling at night?

Are all my prayers for nothing, is my faith less than?

1st post of the year

2011-01-01T16:26:00.001-08:00

It's the beginning of the new year and here i sit in contemplation of what that could mean for me. And the thing about it is, it's not even about me, personally, anymore. my goals for my life are simple, be a good mom/wife, and be a maker. that's it. but in this simple, seemingly prosaic view of life, it turns out to be much harder than the simple statement that was once said only a few nights ago.

with the complications of children, trying to live your life and have a career in - well, anything - is near impossible without money and lots of it. when i was by myself, and my two children, i relied heavily upon my parents and a friend from church to help in the keeping of my kids so i could work and try to chip away at bills unpaid. i am forever grateful to them for their kindness and generosity.

that being said. my life is not nothing. i live from day to day in the knowledge that i am thousands in debt and do not have enough skill in a white collar setting for me to have an actual decent paying job. i learn, though. i try. but as yoda said, 'do, or do not.' and so, i do what i can. but in that, it is not enough. is it? taking care of children, trying to keep the house in order, cooking and then trying to take the time and work on my craft(s) is overwhelming. i dont care if you are a master at time-management, organization and are skilled in the art of cooking; with two children, especially my children, chaos and mess happens almost instantaneously, no matter if you just cleaned the living room for the last 45 minutes. my kids walk in and they have more fun than a tornado in a trailer park and are twice as destructive.

im trying to find work, but its hard to separate scams from legit jobs. im trying to do crafts but its hard when you have no money. im trying to be a good mom but its hard when they get on your nerves and it seems as if they have hearing problems or dont understand the word no, or get into the same thing or closet for the 40+ time that day, thus tearing you away from whatever you were doing to go fix the problem. and being the creative person that i am, once i am in my creative groove, i hate to climb out of it, put on the mom face and deal with my kids; because then when you get back to whatever you were doing, it takes time to get back into that groove. and who knows how many times you'll be interrupted.

i honestly dont like to complain, but now all im doing is bitching about one thing or the other. is it wrong that i am a simple, blue-collar woman with a simple vision in mind?

To Depart or Not to Depart

2010-09-01T11:38:00.000-07:00

Mood: Introspective
Music: La Vie En Rose - Satchmo

"I do not propose to write an ode to dejection, but to brag as lustily as chanticleer in the morning, standing on his roost, if only to wake my neighbors up." Economy, pg. 39 of Walden Pond by Henry David Thoreau

I think he was on to something.

There is much talk about living off the grid, about leaving these familiar shores in search of a better life. It's interesting to talk about, scary to think about and all around frightening. The Chinese proverb states, "May you live in interesting times." Well, yeah. You hear whispers and rumors of countries that are going nuclear, of Big Brother, government politicking, and the collapse of Democracy as we know it.

"I did not pay a tax to, or recognize the authority of, the state which buys and sells men, women, and children, like cattle at the door of its senate-house. I had gone down to the woods for other purposes. But, wherever a man goes, men will pursue and paw him with their dirty institutions, and, if they can, constrain him to belong to their desperate odd-fellow society. It is true, I might have resisted forcibly with more or less effect, might have run 'amok' against society; but I preferred that society should run 'amok' against me, it being the desperate party." The Village, pg. 156

"Voicing dissent is not unpatriotic; it is our duty as citizens." -anon

I feel as if we are in that Waiting Place that Dr. Seuss warned us about. It's that place where we are on the brink, possibly the edge of the knife waiting to see which way the wind will blow. Left? Right? Straight down? No one knows for sure, but it's coming. I mean, we see movies and read books about a post-apocalyptic world like in, "I am Legend" or "The Road" by Cormac McCarthy. I see these things and think, 'is it possible?' and then, 'what's going to happen to my children?'

It's possible, even probable and I find myself looking up directions on how to make a campfire, how to weave, sew my own clothes, make a hammock, etc. things that will help carry my family to safety. In case of a nuclear explosion or attack between India and Pakistan (which is likely) the safest place to go would be Tierra Del Fuego, the most southern city in South America. Or in case of an all out economic collapse, Alaska or Canada. Live off the "grid" and build our own house and possibly community of anyone that wants to join us.

Is this paranoia talking? Or is this productive planning? Someone once said that the difference between genius and insanity is profit; Will we profit by going on our own? What would we gain by living beyond the city limits and conveniences?

Fleetwood Mac said it best, "You can go your own way."

I think we will, I think we should.

"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practice resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and be able to give a true account of it in my next excursion." What I Lived For, pg. 101 of Walden Pond by Henry David Thoreau

A Flicker of Hope

2010-07-18T09:14:00.000-07:00

Mood: Cloudy
Music: 32 flavors - ani difranco

And I now live in Utah.

It's a bit strange really, surreal in most respects. I have never been so away from everything familiar in all my life. Not since my move from Ohio to New York when I was in middle school, do I feel more lost or scared. And I am scared. Very much so.

So much so, that I am getting few hours of sleep waking up in jerks from some dream that I won't remember and not knowing where I am. This line of confusion is jarring and even more frighting because I just don't feel secure in my own enviornment. And feeling secure for someone like me is pinnacle to a sane and stable frame of mind.

I find myself snapping at the kids a little bit more, although for the life of me I cannot figure out if it's because I'm stressed out or because they are being themselves in the terrible two and 18 month stage. Maybe it's both, I just don't know.

I do know that Jones and I are off to a better start and progress has been made for us both in our relationship. That, in of itself, is something of a miracle; coming back from the brink of 'no-relationship-whatsoever' to 'oh-i-have-a-husband/wife-and-they-are-interesting-people'. To a point it is as if we are starting all over again. To a point, not. I understand that and am okay with it. As long as we can grow from here in this desert land, with the intimadating mountains and scarcity of flowers, I think we'll be okay. It's work, hard work, and I am okay with that.

Independance Day Double Entendre

2010-07-04T20:11:00.000-07:00

Music: the fireworks being set off by the neighbors down the road
Mood: amused

why is it that cake tastes so good with a tall, ice cold glass of milk?

why is it that i want to "coldcock" my uncle gary across the jaw?

becau se milk does a body good.

because punching gary would be justified.

ahhh family, who'd be without them? let me explain.

Today, not only, was Independance Day; the day our forefathers (yes, im related to one of them) declared to the English an immortal 'screw you' and rightfully created their own country apart from tyranny, oppression and totalitarianism(sp?), but it was also my going away party, my good-bye party, my "shes finally getting out from under her dads scrutiny" party.

The majority of family from both sides of my parents came for hot dogs, hamburgers, potato salad, coke-a-cola, watermelon and my mom's famous banana pudding. Never before had such a gathering taken place so today was really something seeing my cousins from one side talk to the cousins from the other side about the lastest video game installment. My good friends, Senay, and my baby-sitter, Cassie showed up as well with her brood of kids. Combine them with the three kids from my brother, my cousins babies, and then my children.... yeah, needless to say, there was chaos. But in a good way.

I honestly thought that for the most part the day was a complete success. My two grandmothers sat down in the same room and talked each other's ear off for an hour which hasn't happened since I was three. My uncles David, Steve and Gary talked guitars and ammunition. My nephew Sam got involved in a three-way battle on his ds2 between Cassie's two boys and Pene and Jack ran themselves into the ground playing with Abigail(Cass's daughter) and my brother Mikey's twins.

I got good-bye hugs from everyone. I even got pressie's! Which shocked me to no end. Although the receiving of such pressie does include obligatory visit to Nan before I leave on Tuesday. But that's alright. We can handle an hour of guilt.

My grandmother from Florida got a present from her niece in Dallas, Texas and I kid you not: it was a muu-muu. This thing was so electric in color that I was particularly glad I wasn't high because I would've been freaking out. Either that, or go into seizures, the pattern was ridiculous. Although, true to Grandmother form, she put it on and paraded through the living room like the Queen of Sheba... or Blanche from the Golden Girls.

My Uncle Gary, however, didn't hold back on the charm. And I mean that as sarcastically as possible. Senay and I were sitting outside on the deck with him, my uncle David, Gary's brother, and my uncle Steve, which is my dad's brother. We were just shooting the shit when the following conversation happened:

Gary: "So, Senay; Do you have any children?"
Senay: "No, no I don't."
Gary: "Why's that?"
Senay: "Because there are no good men in Springfield."
David: "Well, we saw a winner walkin' up the road comin' here, didn't we Gary? Looked like he had two teeth in his head."
Senay: "That's attractive."
Gary: "So, you don't have a man I take it?"
Senay: "Nope, no man here."
Gary: "Are you a lesbian?"

And here's pretty much where there was choking on drinks, food, what have you; minus the fact that there is Sam, Alex and Angelo(Cassie's boys) sitting at the table with us. Whether or not they were listening in on the conversation is to be debated but I snap to Gary after an appalled Senay said, "no, i'm not and let's not talk like that to me." I looked at Gary and politely asked him if he would pipe it down because there were kids at the table who probably didn't know the meaning of the word and Gary was insensed that I or Senay would tell him to do anything, but since I asked him nicely, he walked away. I looked at Steve and David both saying, "Did that just happen?" Poor Senay didnt know what was going on, somehow she thought that it was her fault that he walked away. It didn't matter because ten seconds later Gary walked back out, Marlboro Reds in hand, muttering curses "don't ever tell me what to do", and "no body has a sense of humor" etc, heading around to the cars. David profusely apologized to Senay for his brother's behavior, told her she was beautiful and stated that he's always been weird like that. When Gary came back around there was a lot of glaring at the side of Senay's head and silence from his end. To tell the truth, the silence could've kept going as far as I was concerned. Senay and I walked back into the house, me with a frown while giving my face a /facepalm. Mikey asked me what was wrong and I replied that Gary is being himself already. It's not like this party was about me and the kids leaving or anything... nooooooooooo.

Senay had to leave soon after and I ignored Gary the rest of the day. His sweet daughter, Sarah, on the other hand could not apologize enough to Senay for his asshole-like behavior, backing up David's words of, "He's just so weird, I swear to God."

I gave Senay and my girl cousins, Sarah and Mary Kate, some of my better necklaces that I havn't sold and one or two bracelets for making the trip stuck in a car with Gary. In truth, I told the both of them that Utah has fantastic schools and if they ever need a place to crash for a few days, they can stay on our couch. I'm thinking free baby-sitting.

The good byes were made, most people left except for immediate family, and we all lounged on the couches and chairs in the living room watching "The Princess Bride". Mikey and his wife took the twins and Pene outside for some redneck swimming, or "jumping through the sprinkler", Jack passed out on my shoulder because he was so overwhlemed with everyone. I gave Mikey our grandpa's grandfather clock, with him swearing he would take care of it. Before they left, Stacie said to just keep praying when I get to SLC, even if I didn't believe anymore, just keep praying. "You gotta talk to somebody," she said.

I don't know when I'll be seeing Mikey and his family. In five or ten years maybe. Thank God for facebook and status updates. Thank God for my brother and his generous, "If you need anything" speech. I will miss them. I will mourn them.

I will mourn when I get out to SLC. I will. Even though I've been under Dad's thumb, and under the scrutiny of the family, I will mourn. This is the farthest out anyone in my line has dared to move. I will miss them, very much so, but it's about time I put my family back together. My children need their father and I need my husband again.

count down: 48 hours, Love.

Fireflies in the Lane Addition

2010-06-23T18:43:00.000-07:00

Mood: Reflective
Music: Deathcab for Cutie - Meet Me on the Equinox

In one of the many rounds we would make back to Springfield, somehow we would manage our moving in such a way that we always moved back during summer. Inevitably, we would live with my grandmother for a time, but for me as a kid I didnt mind because she lived in the Lane Addition.

The Lane Addition was built after WWII, as an influx of G.I.Joes came home and used their pensions to buy property for dirt cheap. To keep up with the demand, because alot of men from Springfield went over, the local govt built an addition of houses right behind the community hospital. Cookie cutter but cute, the little houses were one or two bedrooms, bathroom, a galley kitchen and tiny living room. My grandmother bought one of these houses and as far back as I can remember, the summer months were the perfect time to be a kid in the Lane Addition.

My best friend, Amanda, stayed with her grandmother and aunt while her mom went to work; Brandon, the little boy across the street had an alcoholic father and a mean dog named Simon; Casey and her little, annoying brother, Shane, was three houses down and we thought her mom was crazy; Little Amanda and her little sister Tory lived all the way down the street, I rode my bike to her house often.

But it was on nights like these, perfect nights like these that I remember best because the street lights would come out, all of us would be playing together; tag, freeze tag, color tag, tv tag, hide and go seek, cemetary, etc. in my grandmothers and amanda's aunt's backyards. Mom would sit on the step with Mikey while he cracked jokes about something as I would go running past. The weather is hot, muggy, saturated and begging for rain but I loved it, reveled in it even. Everyone around the neighorhood would come out on their porches watching us kids, making sure we were safe and werent doing anything stupid. Amanda's aunt would sit out on the step with her annoying little dog, Tish, smoking her cigerettes. The smoke would curl up and out into the air, the tip bright and garish against the street lamps reminding us that she was there and we were looked after. It was a blue collar, poor community, but it was community all the same. A little suburb in a little town, banded together against odds.

My grandmother, when she was well, would make huge dinners and every Sunday my family would come to her tiny house and feast. She would take the leftovers over to the shut in woman a few doors down, to Amanda's grandma, to the neighbor and his sweet wife next door. Amandas grandma had a secret peanut butter fudge receipe, baked sheets of the stuff and packed it into tins handing them out to all of us kids to take home. Amanda and I got our first babysitting job next door to Brandon's Dad.

I remember so much and yet so little about my younger years there. Strange, isn't it?

I want my kids to be able to look back on their childhood and can list off friends that theyve kept, things that theyve done. I want them to still have best friends from childhood. I didn't get that opportunity, and I want them to be able to experience growing up in one spot. At least for a little while.

I want them to be able to look in our backyard, seeing fireflies and chasing them like I did.

Are there fireflies in Utah?

13 days

PostSecret

2010-06-15T19:20:00.000-07:00

Mood: Contemplative
Music: The Temper Trap - Sweet Disposition

I have been writing in secret.

The story of Seeming and his excellent adventure have been plotted out in outlines to the sixth chapter. This is sort of huge for me, as in I am have all but lost complete faith in my ability to write anything of note. I write in the 15...ok, sometimes 20 minute break between jobs, jotting notes here and there, writing dialogue when it comes out clever. I have done this in secret, squirraling(sp?) away notes for fear of being laughed/ridiculed at and thereby destroying this paperthin tower that is my confidence in myself.

Maybe I'll be confident one day to turn it all into an epic novel, which is what I want and then maybe I can get the story out of my head.

A short post, but a post nonetheless. I wanted to say something of what's on my mind.

-m

Death of a Confederate

2010-06-08T06:24:00.000-07:00

Mood: Snarky
Music: I Run to You - Lady Antebellum

It seems surreal that I am finally heading out of Ohio. Its one of those things that you know is real, you can see the date slowly moving to you (as time often does), and yet, still, is it really happening?

I sit here rolling around the idea of leaving behind my entire family, everything I know, for the chance of a different life and a fresh start with a Jones that I love. The idea is most appealing, because of the disingenuous idea of staying in Ohio and raising my children here alone scares me even more. And being from Ohio, being raised (partially) in Ohio is the only reason that I say that.

Don't get me wrong, I do have a sincere affection for the South Central Miami Valley, there are good people here. People that have made living here a little easier, my mother being one of them, and little districts like Yellow Springs that can seem an escape from the rest of the blue collar crowds. Keeping that in mind, there are those that are sublimely stuck here and refuse to leave what they know in search of a better life. Take my aunt, for example. She was married young and pregnant litterally the day after the wedding. Her daughter messed up in highschool and was pregnant at graduation, and now her daughter is about to graduate as well, but she won't make the ceremony because she is nine months pregnant. Three generations of women that will not ever leave Springfield and fourth coming in fast. It's tragic. I commented that it was a shame that Kate is resigned to live here and my aunt glared at me and said, "What's wrong with Springfield? There's nothing wrong with living here."

And with that, I left the conversation.

It's that kind of mentality, that kind of thinking that scares me. Because even though I was born in a small town, grew up in smaller towns across the eastern side of the country does not mean that I want my children growing up with that "small town" naivity as well.

When we lived in Rochester, not in Webster where I used to live (because that was a small town) but actually in the city did my eyes open. Experiencing the city life, for as brief a time that we did was enough to jar me and set me straight on the idea of "street smarts".

Case in point, we lived down the street from a McD's and there was very limited to no parking on our street, so I did what anyone from a small townin the plain states would do, I parked at the McD's, got some food and walked to the apartment leaving my truck there. See, when you live in Springfield, you can park at the Kroger's and walk over to the bank real quick or the Dairy Queen across the street and walk back, no problem. You can't do that in the city. Did I know that? NOPE! Much money and tears later on the next day did I get the truck back.

I don't want my children walking into a big city and become completly lost. I don't want them to say, "Well we don't do that back in Ohio." No. I will leave here and leave behind that state of mind gladly in the hopes of something much, much better.

I am not, however, leaving my roots behind. I was raised to be a good, southern, generous little woman with hospitality, loyalty and rock hard faith that can blind most people. These are attributes that I pride myself on, not only that but I am proud of the people that I come from. It's through them that I can leave and leave I am to better myself, my family with the prospect of becoming something great.

And I will.

28 days, my love. I can't wait.

Different

2010-04-02T06:14:00.000-07:00

Mood: broken
Music: Supermassive - Muse

Everyday, as I drive my kids to the babysitters, I pass a house buried in a hill. It's a lovely house; stone and wood, chimney lit every morning with smoke curling out and upwards through the fog. But if you look up through the trees that surround the lovely house, there's a strange corpse rotting against the hill. I don't know what type of animal it is, maybe a white dog that lost its footing, snapped its neck. But that corpse has laid there for months, frozen in the snow, and now slowly decaying under the burning sun.

Nobody removes this poor animal from its decomposing state against the hill. They let this thing waste away above their house, withering and worsen against a tree, showing every day that because it's not theirs, they do nothing.

It pangs me that this animal is wasted by the wayside. That it's death is nothing, just a thing to ruin in the heat, leaving a stain on the hillside next to the lovely house.

Sometimes, I feel like I'm that animal.

Letter

2010-02-13T17:16:00.000-08:00

Mood: In Pain
Music: My Heart is a Zombie for you - Dead Man's Bones

Jones, my head is killing me. No, really. I feel a little bit like dr. pepper on a rust spot. fizzy, coroding, parts of me dissolving before I know whats happening. Nan told me that she heard a buzzing sound before the stroke hit, combined with a really bad headache. Are migraines the fore-runners of strokes? Is that even a logical step in thinking? (Thank God for pain killers and the fact that both kids are down before 8 o'clock.)This headache has me in between worlds of nausea; and really, I'm torn because if I throw up, it makes the headache worse, but there is that slim chance that I would feel better afterwards. Knowing my luck? Yeah, we won't be selecting that particular prize, Vanna.

There's an interesting band called, "Dead Man's Bones" that I am currently in to. Well, them and "Kings of Leon", I dont know if you would like either of them, but they both have catchy beats and the type of music that you can't help but move to. "Dead Man's Bones" also has a few zombie songs and a werewolf song on their album, I thought Cass would enjoy them as well. I'll be listening to them both tomorrow on my 9 hour exile to Urbana.

It's not that I don't appreciate my job. I do. I have two women that are absolute sweethearts and want to see me happy, how many people can boost of having bosses like that? I mean they actually want me to move to SLC to be with you. They just request the usual two week notice and a week of training for whomever is going to take my place. But I hate and yet love this job, Jones. I've been working like this since I was a child and I'm a little tired of it. I guess that's why I keep downloading new music for my mp3. I'm going to run out of room. But it's the music that I crave, because I can zone out, do my job numbly and be able to move on to the next stall without thought to my circumstances. And when you do what I do, tuning out the fact that you clean toilets is a necessity for maintaining sanity in an otherwise methodical and repetitive world.

I keep dreaming of us. Sometimes, we're with friends, sometimes with pene, sometimes alone and talking. I can't wait for the day when you and I can go to a coffee house and sit and talk for awhile. Like we used to when we lived in our little apartment and worked with each other. I miss that apartment. I miss us.

I'm mixing ideas of tattoos for you. Something to do with hunting and the stars, maybe artemis constellation. I would do a wolf for you, but I feel that theyve been over done, and besides, if you dont know what you are doing, the artwork can come out looking more like a cliche than actual art. I'll be drawing something to your liking, hopefully, next week.

Sleep is starting to creep in, thankfully. Maybe it'll make the fizzy sound in my head go away, maybe Jack will sleep through the night again, and maybe pigs will fly through my room too....

/rolls eyes.

I adore you, Jones. kisses.

-Moon

updates and werehemp

2009-12-07T09:49:00.000-08:00

mood: adventurous
music: i get off - halestorm

Anouncements-

WereHemp.blogspot.com is up and running. the slideshow of my jewelry is supposed to be on there but since flickr and i dont get along... it'll work at some point.

first craft show last weekend with the whole 'werehemp' company name. at least i sold stuff, compared to the last one where i sold nothing.

tickets for SLC are being bought today, which means that half of my future plans are running in the correct direction, it'll just take time for the other half.

might have a job as a keyholder at hot topic in the mall, dunno yet. but it would be pretty sweet there because i do know most of the poeple that run that store and having the ability to make money while working with people you actually like is a good thing.

etsy page will be coming soon.

Plans

2009-11-23T16:02:00.000-08:00

Within the next two weeks, I will be getting another blog but this new one will be all about my jewelry. Call it a gallery if you will. It's about time I get my ass in gear on this jewelry thing, if I'm really going to do it.

And I'm really going to it.

I know, I know. You'll believe it when you see it, right? Yeah, that's fine. Look for it in two weeks, Disbelieving.

Getting frustrated pretty quickly at the lack of jobs here in Ohio but really what can you expect? I'm in the middle of a blue collar town that I either have too much exxperience for, or not enough. Awesome.

I did, however, sell Jones' Kayak for a fair amount of money. I plan on hoarding it for as long as possible but in the same stance will be using a portion for a plane ticket out to SLC. Not only is it the best birthday present ever to myself, but it will give me the opportunity to scope out the city, see about housing, medical for the kiddies and possibly put in applications to places. Whos' going to hire in Januray, you ask. Some incredibly lucky manager, that's who.

After that I want to see if I can get kiddies and I to high-tail it out to SLC by the middle of Feb, early March at the latest. This lack of a completed family is taking its toll, and I can only take so much emotional damage.

This is the plan.

the real doll

2009-11-21T15:35:00.000-08:00

My emotions are a little overwhelming at the moment.

ive been on the emotion rollar coaster for the past 48 hours and i have never felt so exhausted. im tired to the point where i feel it in my soul. i cant make anyone happy, i've tried all my life and i have never had the distinct ability to make someone truely, over-the-moon happy. it's a product of growing up in the household that i did; not that im knocking it, but being in a legalistic church and household make for some very unhappy people.

in the church we were taught that the perfect woman was the 'proverbs 31' woman. someone that took care of not only her children but her husband as well. she was perfect in every way, she's smart yet submissive, the perfect mother, always knowing what to do, etc, etc.

10Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies.
11The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her, so that he shall have no need of spoil.
12She will do him good and not evil all the days of her life.
13She seeketh wool, and flax, and worketh willingly with her hands.
14She is like the merchants' ships; she bringeth her food from afar.
15She riseth also while it is yet night, and giveth meat to her household, and a portion to her maidens.
16She considereth a field, and buyeth it: with the fruit of her hands she planteth a vineyard.
17She girdeth her loins with strength, and strengtheneth her arms.
18She perceiveth that her merchandise is good: her candle goeth not out by night.
19She layeth her hands to the spindle, and her hands hold the distaff.
20She stretcheth out her hand to the poor; yea, she reacheth forth her hands to the needy.
21She is not afraid of the snow for her household: for all her household are clothed with scarlet.
22She maketh herself coverings of tapestry; her clothing is silk and purple.
23Her husband is known in the gates, when he sitteth among the elders of the land.
24She maketh fine linen, and selleth it; and delivereth girdles unto the merchant.
25Strength and honour are her clothing; and she shall rejoice in time to come.
26She openeth her mouth with wisdom; and in her tongue is the law of kindness.
27She looketh well to the ways of her household, and eateth not the bread of idleness.
28Her children arise up, and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praiseth her.
29Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all.
30Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the LORD, she shall be praised.
31Give her of the fruit of her hands; and let her own works praise her in the gates.

and let verse ten of this passage say it all, 'who can find a virtuous woman?' in all honesty i have watched my mother for years try to be the perfect woman. she tried, she really did. this ideal of a woman has and had been drilled in our brains since i was 6 years old. i remember the sermons well, 'favor is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the lord, she shall be praised.' because of this verse alone, makeup and ostentatious jewelry (like anything other than a pair of earrings and your wedding band) was near outlawed. and if you deigned to wear something a little loud, like a red dress for instance, you were brought to the side by an elders wife and spoken to like you've sinned. "why did you wear this dress? well the men are looking at you and we don't want them to be tempted with anything other than their own wives now do we?" the women and girls were being constantly groomed to be real dolls, or something short of the Steppford Wives.

(i've come to the conclusion that men are men are men no matter which way you slice them. some women can be wearing sackcloth and ashes and still be found sexy by men. its just the way they are wired. it took watching my mom for years walk into the grocery store and be given the double-take by different men, to come to this conclusion, even when shes wearing nothing more than a t-shirt and jeans.)

mom and i have never been able to make anyone happy, not for long anyway. we tried to measure up to the ideal woman but fell short in every attempt. and it wasnt until mom gave up actually trying to be the ideal woman, that she made herself happy, and became an ideal woman. now, far be it from me to say that my mother is perfect but when it comes in comparison to other moms... she's a good mom.

and she told me a universal truth yesterday that ive never really considered: make yourself happy first, and everything else will follow.

blink. see, this doesn't compute automatically, because we were taught that you are beneath your children and your husband so their happiness is first and foremost.

it was as if the flood gates opened in my mind. and i knew what was going to make me happy: Leaving Ohio. or more aptly put, Leaving Daddy.

dad cannot help the way he is, he's biased to an absolute fault and sincerely believes that i am incapable of making a decision on my own, as well as knowing how to parent, how to have a marriage, how to make french toast. the list continues. i have tried for a very long time to make dad happy, and i have failed at every attempt except having my children (and thank the heavens above that i was married before the two kids, unlike my cousins.....). he wants me to do this, he wants me to do that and being the marines daughter that i am, its almost comical that i dont salute when he hands out his orders. making him happy is no longer my job. it never was to begin with and it shouldn't have been pushed on me or my brother.

i have to make myself happy first, then everything else will follow.

screw you proverbs 31 woman. i'll be my own ideal woman.

drowning

2009-11-19T19:33:00.000-08:00

status: contemplative
music: tonight, tonight - smashing pumpkins

too much
too much
choked, strangled
cutoff, asphixiate, constrict
gasp!
stuff, suffocate,
close, supress, stifle,
gulp!
smother, seal
clench, squeeze, tighten
exhale...

phone call

2009-11-09T17:36:00.000-08:00

Status: Jealous
Music: Sealegs - the shins

Since I was a little girl, my family and I have moved. And not just the simple 'from one street to another', no. No, from the time that I was five years old til now, I have moved at least 20 times. I guess, in a way, my family and I have been modern day gypsys, floating from one state to the next. We moved to small towns, villages and the B.F.E. country of Indiana, but nowhere really particular, no major cities, just suburbs and country life. That's all I knew, that is all I have ever known.

It's interesting because in comparison to most of the people that reside here in Springfield, I'm cultured. I've moved out and away from here, I've gotten an education in some place other than Springfield Highschool and Clark State. But to compare to others that are not from here... I have yet to live.

When we lived in Webster while I was in highschool, I remember thinking that I had the jump on a lot of the kids there because they had never left New York, never left Webster for that matter. I thought that all of the moving that I had done gave me some sort of unique perspective on life, travel, adventure. And to a point, it is the truth. Not many have lived the life of a gypsy child and still be able to have roots in one place, and even though I am here in my hometown yet again, I find myself itching for the road.

Moving has always been easy to me. Kind of like riding a bicycle. Once you learn it, you never forget. Packing, unpacking, repacking. It's a method that I have learned and am able to do without really much thought. "keep the glasses wrapped in newspaper and stack them inside one another and place on the side surrounded by more paper so they wont break." - mom's voice shouts from the distance. I miss stuff from time to time, just because I'm spacey like that, but all in all: the packing gets done and nothing breaks. So when I see my things still in boxes in the basement and a meager amount of things that I can call mine in a bedroom that I occupy... I get an itch on my neck and an ache in my feet.

Now, maybe it's because of where I've been raised, but big cities are all at once awe-inspring and terrifying at the same time. Columbus is a big deal to me still, even though I have been to New York City and walked the streets of Manhatten. Any town that is larger than Springfield, is kind of intimidating. Who can say with certainty that they've dressed up to go to "the big mall" in the town over?

I am not knocking how I grew up or the places that I've grown up in. It's just that when it came to prepare me for the outside world. . . I was not prepared. At all.

And now I find myself on the other end of the line, at the other end of the world, wanting and waiting to leave my hometown again for sights unknown and familiar faces needed. I've wanted to leave before but never this badly. When I heard your voice over the phone and laughter in the background talking about some restaurant that I havn't been to with you... the pangs of jealousy and lonliness sounded in my heart. And I was tempted to run away.

I want to run away to you. Take the kids and just go. This home is no home, it's imprisonment of the worst kind. The imprisonment of my personality, politics, faith, mind and body. If I do not reshape myself to their molde... what will happen to me?

2009-11-05T17:39:00.000-08:00

Status: Lonely
Music: miss you - everything but the girl

Heavy

this fishbowl life feels elephantine
the air is cloudy here
heavy with conservatism
i choke on the morality
i eat traditions alongside my coffee
philistine virtues are my in purse
threatening to get out
can i carry Jesus in my pocket?
or in the backseat of my car?
how about a bumpersticker?
when will this be "too far"?

high on the plains i stand
through warbled glass i see my way
out to the road
thats fifty yards distant
so close to the pavement
to get me to you
but the chains pull tight
the iron stays true
i strategize too late
and feel the clamp on my wrist
i look into Despair to hear
Father Knows Best.

Burn Down

2009-11-02T05:29:00.001-08:00

One Sunday, a long time ago, I went to church dutifully with my parents to Sunday School. The classroom was filled with girls that I despised, save two or three, and everyone knew that we just didn't get along. Except for our teacher, who was the wife of the youth leader, Pam. Pam tried to get us talking to each other, which usually did not happen and soon she was forced to bring in icebreaker games. Well, this particular Sunday, the question was presented, "If your house was on fire, and you were able to grab only 5 things, what would you grab?"

Being the dutiful Christian girl that all of us were, the first thing we said was to grab our Bibles. And the few girls who didn't say "Bible" were immediately snubbed.

Looking back on that, after my experience last year when our apartment caught fire, I can say beyond a shadow of a doubt that your Bible is not the first thing you grab, nor is it your last. In fact, you don't grab it at all.

When it's five in the morning and your apartment is on fire, you don't think, "Where's my Bible?" You are more prone to think of things like, "Get Pene out of the burning building, get Pene out of the burning building, keys, wallet, blanket, shoes, cellphone to call 911."

In that order, that is exactly what happened. I remember Jones yelling at me because I stopped to put my shoes on.

You dont think about Bibles during Fires. Bibles can be bought, rebought and rebought again. Things that are easily replaced should be left. Children, your I.D. and a cellphone to call someone should not be left behind.

It boggles my mind to think back on the times when I was a teenager, to sum it all up in one word: Naive, would be an understatement. Although, at the time, everyone thought I was some type of Rebel because I had been to public school and I wasn't born into the church like they were.

Strange how things come into perspective, isn't it?

A Seperation with Kites

2009-10-12T19:42:00.000-07:00

When I was a child of 15, I met Ben. By the end of the two months of our dating relationship, I was convinced that I was with my soulmate, and that I would die of a broken heart because he broke up with me.

But I didn't.

Over a period of three more years I would see Ben twice. Once, at Ryan Alo's graduation, where he asked me out again and I turned him down because I was still angry about our last break-up. The second time was at the Jackson Pollack Show at the Rochester art museum. He had a skinny, ridiculous looking blonde thing hanging off her arm. I hated her instantly, and yet he didn't see me as I walked by.

The years passed us by; he served his country, I studied two different majors, he slaved at, what was once, Circuit City, while I worked at Wal-mart allthewhile having long-term relationships with people. We were seperated by seven years of completely different lives, situations, distance and time. And it took a wierd, random 3 a.m. glance at Myspace.com to find my best friend, Olga. And because of that contact, she contacted me, I sent an email which turned into AIM conversations, and letters passed back and forth in rapid succession. Like we were students in study hall passing notes back and forth to each other, hoping not to get caught.

But he lived in Rochester and I lived in Ohio. A seperation of distance stood between us. So, in true Ben-like fashion, he packed up, picked up and planted himself in Springfield. Just to be with me. We were married, found out we were pregnant with Pene four months later and that's when Ben went to trucking.

We were seperated by distance yet again, he had no choice (the only choice that we could see) of being on the road. He called it his 'Rolling Monostary'. And a monks life he seemingly did lead, yet always being on the road to feed your family back at home puts a strain on not only your relationship with your family but friends, and the rest of the world as well. He was cut off, until he was let go almost exactly a year to the day of which he was hired.

New York happened and we found ourselves seperate. Not by time or distance, but in the heart, in the home. There was hardly anything that went right, there were too many things that went wrong; and I thought I would die of the heartache.

But I didn't.

We left and came back to Ohio. Starting over as it were, but it wasn't enough. A restart is needed again in a town far, far away from here, and we are seperated yet again. It's distance, this time around, that is the barrier, distance and the money to get from point a to point b. Ben is there, and I am here with babies trying to scratch out a living. I feel, sometimes that I will die for the longing of my soulmate.

But I don't.

We carry on, as we have always done. One foot in front of the other, set on moving forward till we are no longer seperated. It is a refusal to remain as is, entrenched in the mire of a small town, a refusal to be without my soulmate, the father of my children. In this refusal is my drive to move, to press on until I can rest my very, very, oh-so-weary, head next to my beloved. We've made it three years this Wednesday, and some people don't get that far. We're still fighting, we are in this together, you and I. And I love you for that.

You are still the kite in my sky.

lucky

2009-10-01T18:29:00.000-07:00

Today I wrote on my facebook status a Jason Mraz song, "lucky" in German. It reminded me of Ben and I, being apart as we are now, calling back and forth to each other across the distance. I put it in German because I honestly didn't want anyone else to get it but Ben; and I know he is crafty enough to copy/paste it into google translation.

He's 1700 miles away. In a town that is trimmed with mountains and the people there are not stereotypical polygamists like the rest of the world makes them out to be.. Ben said that living in that strange city was almost what living in NPR would be like. I like that. I think I can handle that.

Now, to just get out there. That's my mountain to cross.

Do you hear me? I'm talking to you
Across the water across the deep ocean blue
Under the open sky, oh my baby, I'm trying

Boy I hear you in my dreams
I feel your whisper across the sea
I keep you with me in my heart
You make it easier when life gets hard

Lucky I'm in love with my best friend
Lucky to have been where I have been
Lucky to be coming home again.
ooh, ooh, ohh

They don't know how long it takes
Waiting for a love like this
Every time we say goodbye
I wish we had one more kiss
I'll wait for you, I promise you, I will

Lucky I'm in love with my best friend
Lucky to have been where I have been
Lucky to be coming home again

Lucky we're in love in everyway
Lucky to have stayed where we have stayed
Lucky to be coming home someday

And so I'm sailing through the sea
To an island where we'll meet (slc)
You'll hear the music fill the air
I'll put a flower in your hair

Though the breezes through the trees
Move so pretty you're all I see
As the world keeps spinnin' round
You hold me here right now

Lucky I'm in love with my best friend
Lucky to have been where I have been
Lucky to be coming home again

Lucky we're in love in everyway
Lucky to have stayed where we have stayed
Lucky to be coming home someday

Passe Doble

2009-08-30T14:01:00.000-07:00

the tension in the house is palpable.

i don't know what happened, but a switch was turned and now the house is in turmoil. I get no rest for all the drama that has taken place and is taking place.

I am like a matador, stepping into the arena, with my beautiful cloak and silver saber, dancing with two bulls that want to kill each other. the first bull to my left is the one i've danced with since i was born. He is large and strong, dark and proud; never to be defeated. He battles his foes with shear strength, never stopping, always coming and pounding his opponent into the ground.

The bull to my right is young and virile, just as strong as the old bull if not stronger. He can dance with me, but he is independent, he dances where he will no matter where I flip my flag to. This young bull and I, we've danced many dances and yet now, he is against my grain.

The two bulls are struggling, grappling, goring each other for dominance and fighting like mad to conquer. They are vying for the throne, like Julius. They both want to stand over the battlefield and cry, "VINI, VIDI, VICI!" who will win? who will conquer?

I realize that it's not about me, the matador, anymore. It's about them. I suddenly find myself in the crowd, watching as spectator instead of referee. Is it wrong to want to separate one's self from this hostile atmosphere? I find myself becoming detached, and very much alone.

I take off my brocade jacket. It hangs in the closet. I remove my cape and set it beside me. I stretch out on my bed to only curl up on my side, my back to the door. Exhaustion takes me, and I cannot find rest.

Update

2009-08-05T09:00:00.001-07:00

"This is the message, I think the moon is falling..." - Men, Women and Children

So, a lot has happened since last we met. Jack is 5 months, Pene is in DayCare and I have returned, most unhappily, to the work force.

Let me just say, getting some cash assistance for the government is not worth working 26 hours a week for the people at the welfare office. But, far be it for me to look a gift horse in the mouth, we need the money and "you gotta do what you gotta do", right?

Fortunantly enough, my dad knows people. He introduced me to Bob at the local coffee kiosk in the mall. Bob is the owner of "Uncommon Grounds" and he's an alright kind of guy. That is if you like ultra-conservative, FOXNEWS watching, republicans that like to talk about their time in Vietnam. /wince.

All that aside, I can work for this man. He wants a full-time Barista with experience to work in his new coffee house in Enon. Awesome. It doesn't matter what I think of this guy, right now I just want to be off of the government milk tit and live my life. This won't happen for a while though, I can see it, plain as day.

This computer lab that I am currently sitting in is some type of void. A void where the illiterate, the inane, and the sincere ignorant gather to try to put their resumes on Monster.com. It is a white room with florescent lighting, and I stare at either my computer or someone elses for the majority of the day. (Side note: Windows Vista can rot in hell) Yesterday I spent 2 hours with a man who had no idea how to even get to the website, much less upload his resume onto the website. It was a painful, patient-enduring process but the guy got through it and I left him with a slight feel of satisfaction. Now, will he know how to get back to that website? I doubt it.

"I not only use all the brains that I have, but all that I can borrow." Woodrow Wilson

I am that borrowed brain.

Stop! In the Name of Love!

2009-06-19T15:42:00.000-07:00

Fertile (fur'tl)

adj.

-producing or bearing fruit in great quantities.

(dictionary.com)

So, the reason for the word of the day is that the lovely i.u.d. that was strategically placed is now defunct. null and void, no longer in service, done with, discontinued.... non-functioning. In the short list of explanations, it was removed simply because my body was built for making babies. I am a fertile, baby making machine.

Grief.

Anyway, the thing was taken out and I was given a shot in the hip instead. It's one of those things where I am having to force my body to cooperate rather than having a farm full of babies as the good Lord intended. To a point, I think I'm done. Two kids, a dog, rabbits galore, chickens and soon to have guinea fowl are enough for me to handle right now. Maybe someday down the road when Jones and I are more financially stable and not renting space from my parents - we can try again. But until then, I will have to have a shot in the hip every three months.

I feel that I was made to have children. I got pregnant so easily after marrying Jones, it was a fated thing I think. Maybe it's because of religious teachings that were drilled into my head or the fact that I feel somehow I am defying God by obtaining contraceptives. It's a very Catholic viewpoint to have, about having children. Because some women have the hardest time trying to conceive and here I am, two babies under my arms begging not to get pregnant again. Am I defying God by not having as many kids as I can? Am I interfering with His ways by using modern technology to ensure that I do not have anymore children until I want to?

The answer to the last question is of course, if God wants me to have babies, then there is no stopping Him.

Oh well. Moving on.

Right now I am in the middle of Baby Land where Jack is fussy because of the heat, and Penelope is constantly trying to go outside and get soaked under the hose with the puppy. Perhaps we will do that now, seeing as she finished up her hotdog and cheese.

le sigh.

2009-06-01T15:44:00.001-07:00

So, I got an I.U.D. put in: not fun. And I'm having a ridiculously hard time trying to adjust to this new thing inside me. I read the instructions and viewed the side effects, etc. and I'm finding out that I am having a lot of heavy changes in my life right now and I sincerely considering the I.U.D. to be a focal point in the way I am reacting to them.

My kids are stressing me out a lot more than usual, I'm flipping out over the littlest of things, I'm gaining weight, bleeding at random and am having constant headaches.

Mental Note to self: call Kitty in the morning.

I could really use a friend right now, but the problem is one is in Portland, one is in Columbus and doesn't know how to answer her phone and the other is ignoring me altogether... so in short, I'm out of options on who to call for condolence/sympathy/empathy/shoulder to cry on.

Also, Jones and I were playing around today, which is a lot of fun; we weren't able to do that while I was full of Jack, and I was tickling him and he said stop and I kept going and then he was like, 'get your muffin top off me!'

. . . .

I think my lack of response and the dropped jaw were enough for him to see the error that he had just made. Still, it was enough to spring tears to my eyes.

2009-05-22T11:20:00.000-07:00

Question: is it better to be a well fed servant than a starving free man?

This thought has haunted me for months. . . And I still don't know the answer.

The Dessert/Cheese Aisle.

2009-04-05T18:33:00.001-07:00

It's sad to think that where ever you go in life, you will make enemies; it is inevitable.

I've lived as a gypsy most of my life; moving from state to state I have lost friends but I have just realized at how many enemies I have made. I never really cared because once we moved, we never went back so I didn't have to worry about seeing them again. But we have moved back to Springfield, and I burned so many bridges in the 6 years that I lived here. Many friends were lost and it really pains me knowing that half of the people that hate me in this world reside still in Springfield and the surrounding areas. Going to the grocery store or even down to my favorite place in the world (yellow springs) has become something of a stressful situation. I keep looking over my shoulder expecting an ex to be there with a scowl on his face spouting expletives.

Yet I go out anyway. I try to get over my fears of being spotted, being with Jones helps that feeling go away quickly, and get along with my day.

Although today, as I went to Kroger's to pick up a few things, I looked down the aisle and to my chagrin there one of my ex's stood. Unfortunately enough, he's the one that probably hates me the most out of my ex's. Before he had the chance to look up and see me, I turned the cart around and literally bolted in the other direction. I quickly picked up most of the things on my list and decided to forgo the hunt for chocolate since Adam was standing in the dessert/cheese/butter aisle. (and honestly, why are half the desserts next to the cheese and butter? I never got that part.) The paranoia set in pretty thick in a matter of moments and I left with the feeling of being watched and looked over my shoulder even as I packed the jeep with food. And though part of me was thinking, "who the hell cares? he never grew up and has called me some heinous things in his time so, screw him", right? I was still anticipating the collision and the chaos that would ensue.

will I ever feel differently about Springfield? Also, will I ever be able to lose my fear of ex's and what people think of me?

Somehow, I sincerely doubt it.

Which is why saving and leaving Ohio is the goal and fantasy all in one.

Livid

2009-03-05T17:35:00.000-08:00

im so beyond angry right now that it's really starting to defy logic. of course, this being the internet and i dont know just who exactly reads this, i am not going to go into details. let us just say that 'having a day off work' does not also mean, 'having a day off parenting'.

let that sink in.

Jack.

2009-02-25T07:02:00.000-08:00

The story of Jack.

A brief synopsis.

Born Thursday, 6:00 a.m.

9 lbs. exactly

22 inches long.

contractions started: 11 p.m. wednesday night.

left for the hospital: 3:30 a.m.

arrival to the maternity ward: 4:00 a.m.

-check-in

-scream at the nurse for asking stupid questions

-start the blubber crying and on an emotional swing beg Jones' not to leave me

-6 going on 7 cm dilated.

-receive epidural that only covers the entire right side and a little bit of my left, leaving me open to still feel contractions.

-start to taste pennies because of too much of the epi was in my system.

-still screaming.

-Being hooked up to an oxygen machine and losing consciousness will make you start breathing.

-Jones proceeds to yell at me to breathe. Because I wasn't.

-count.

-8 cm plus 2, still no water breakage.

-Doctor breaks it for me.

-gush.

5:00 a.m.

-extra dose of epidural, still can feel the contractions on my left side.

-jaw begins to hurt with the clinching in pain.

-having completely dead limbs, the nurse and Jones have to help me sit up and hold my legs for me.

-push.

-more pushing.

-when the contractions was over, I lost consciousness.

-when the contractions started up again, I regained consciousness to push. weird.

-the doctors whip out the forceps.

-panic enters here. all the horror stories of misplaced forceps knocking jaws out of sockets, crushing cheeks, putting permanent marks on skulls of unsuspecting infants are immediately flashing through my head.

6:00 a.m.

-last and final push to a quiet little Jack.

-he whimpers once but then proceeds to look around observing the pretty pretty lights.

-Jones is elated. gives me kisses, tells me how proud he is of me, and then walks back and forth from me to Jack in his excitement.

Outcome: 10 fingers, 10 toes. an excellent choice. perfect in every way.

-begin praising God for a healthy baby and that it was finally over.

-proceed to be given the 5 star treatment for the next 3 days by the sweetest nurses in the world.

-home on Saturday with many, many drugs to take.

Thank you God.

Valentine's Recap

2009-02-18T06:03:00.000-08:00

Valentines Day this year was better than the previous two years by a long shot. Here's why: In 2006 Jones and I were snowed in our little apartment. I was two months pregnant and already having morning sickness, the heat didn't work except for the little floor heater in our room which is where we stayed for most of the day. Jones really was a sweetheart and tried to make me breakfast but he made eggs, and we didn't know till that morning that the smell of eggs made me throw up, let alone eat them. We ended up playing Halo for most of the day, eating sandwiches and never leaving our warm room.

2007 consisted of Jones being on the road.

But this year is different and good because Jones was home with me and we were able to have the day to ourselves, Mom and Dad took Penelope to Indiana for my brother's birthday. We went to Panera for bagels and coffee, making fun of two girls and their ridiculous conversation that we could not help but hearing since they were right beside us. We went down to Yellow Springs and talked to my friend and business associate Jen, where I was also paid for two sets of earrings that Jen sold. Afterwards, we got date food watched some movies and ate romantical cookies. All the while snuggling on the couch.

All in all, a good Valentine's Day.

By the way, Jack shall be arriving tomorrow sometime. Thats right, he's set and scheduled to arrive.

Special Topic: Rants of Mommy

2009-02-05T06:42:00.000-08:00

It probably is a combination of being in the last stretch of pregnancy and raging hormones but, I don't want to hear about happy pregnant women anymore.

I'm at my wits end quite honestly. I don't want to see another mommy-to-be and share a smile with her. I don't want to walk/waddle into the grocery store and have the cashier ask when I'm due, or walk into a shop and have to sit down for a few minutes because I'm either winded or exhausted walking from the car to the inside of the store.

When Penelope takes her naps now, I take them with her instead of doing something incredibly productive, like working on my jewelry. It is as if I do not have the strength to haul my jewelry table out of my room, sit down and work on my craft. I get tired just walking from one room to the next at home!

I'm 39 weeks today. Today! So, when is this miserable existence going to end? Truly, I do not want to complain about this. I do not want to groan every time I roll over in bed because of the pain shooting up from my hips. I don't want to be miserable and have everyone around me be miserable as well. I just want to have this baby and be done!

I'm having dreams of screaming at people. Literally screaming at them to the top of my lungs, to the point where I wake up and feel the need to call these people and apologize. My voice is hoarse, throat aching from where I've strained in my sleep.

I want to cry like my daughter being stuck in her crib. Rage against the injustice of it all and just not be pregnant anymore. I want my son to be born!

I want my Jack!

Death in the Family

2009-01-30T09:31:00.000-08:00

My father is a military man, through and through, you can't ignore his Marine behavior; the strict, staunch support of military and government, the discipline, determination and almost always black and white attitude towards whatever subject. He doesn't show his emotions readily, unless it comes to his family, and there are very few people in this world that have seen my father cry. All totaled, I could probably count them on my fingers and still have a digit or two to spare. The reason for this entry today is an obituary of sorts, because my fathers best friend died today; and his name was George.

The saying is old and incredible true, dogs really are mans best friend. George was like Dad's drinking buddy, if my dad would drink. Whenever football was on, Dad would usually sit on the floor with George laying on his knee and they would watch the entire game in the same spot, or watch old westerns, as if Dad were five or six years old again, cheering John Wayne on, and George would never leave Dad's side.

My Dad has heart problems, bad heart problems and whenever he had to go to the hospital George would pace the floor until Dad came home, and then wouldn't leave Dad's side for the rest of the week. He was fiercely protective of not only my dad but of me and Mom as well.

When I had surgery on my shoulder and Mom was helping walk/carry me into the living room George walked over to me, smelled my shoulder, the bandages and sat down beside the recliner I was in and never moved except for food or a bathroom break. He watched over me all through the night and into the morning, and when I woke up, George put his muzzle under my hand as though to reassure me that he was still there, and he wasn't going anywhere.

He loved the snow, of course. Would literally bathe in it whenever he was let outside. He would lay down in a patch of snow and observe traffic, like old men sitting in their garages, scouting suspicious strangers walking or driving by. This image is what I picture my father to be doing when he hits 75 or 80 years of age, either sitting in his garage or sitting on his porch watching traffic, guarding the neighborhood like a good Marine does. If my dad were a dog, he would be a George, a black and white, happy, old dog that needed to lose weight.

George was a Norwegian Elk Hound, a medium sized dog, and no joke Elk hounds really do hunt down elk in packs and can bring it to its knees in a hurry. I've seen youtube videos of elk hounds actually staring down bear, chasing off moose, and getting feisty with other animals twice their size. They are extremely loyal and great with kids, I highly recommend them to anyone looking for a pet.

The reason George died was because he was 13 years old, had hip dyspleasia(sp?), and could barely walk on his left leg. He groaned whenever he tried to stand and could hardly stand and do anything. By the end of his days, he was little more than a black and white rug on the floor to walk around. It has taken Dad over three maybe four months to get used to the idea that George was a good old man that had seen his time, and it was time to let him go to greener pastures. And so, at 11:45 this morning, George went, I hope to where Laura Ingalls Wilder called, "The Happy Hunting Grounds" where he can frolic the way he used to and maybe hunt some elk while there.

Irksome, Miserable, Irate

2009-01-25T02:41:00.001-08:00

obvious

ob-vi-ous - adjective

1. Easily seen, recognized, or understood; open to view or knowledge; evident: an obvious advantage.

2. Lacking in subtlety.

3. Obsolete. Being or standing in the way.

No. . .I haven't had the baby yet.

It really annoys the crap out of me when people look at me and then state the obvious, "You haven't had him yet?" or "God, you're about to pop aren't you?"

Why do people do this?

Last Sunday, and this should give you pause because I'm still livid over this and I do not keep grudges or stay mad at people for this long, this woman at my father's church saw me for the first time in about 10 months. Instead of giving me a hug, chatting it up or waving high; she points, jaw dropped, "YOU'RE PREGNANT AGAIN?!?!" screeches out of her and then she proceeds to mock me walking down the hallway. Which, let's face it folks, has become something of a waddle due

to the amount of Belly and the pinched nerve in my back.

....what do you say to this woman?

She did this last time, when I was pregnant with Penelope. Almost every Sunday without fail she would ask the same question, "Still haven't had him?", "Oh my goodness, I see your belly down the hallway before I see you!" etc. etc.

This is exactly like Jones' friend, whom I will refer to as Tank because he looks like a tank, literally. Whenever I would get off the couch, move, re-position my belly, walk in front of him he would always say something along the lines of, "Moon, you're so pregnant.", "Moon, you're so full of baby", "Moon, you have Jones' child inside of you."

*twitch, twitch, twitch* YES I DO! WHAT IS YOUR FREAKIN' POINT!?

Is it not painfully obvious here? I have a 6'1 husband and a 6' father, I come from big people, Jones comes from big people as well. I have a large baby in my womb, yes I am well aware, you don't need to remind me THANK YOU I know all about it. I was kinda there when the whole getting pregnant thing went down.

It is clear, crystal clear, plain, pronounced, prominent, unmistakable, undisputed, transparent, incontrovertible, incontestable, beyond doubt, beyond question, staring someone in the face obvious that yeah, I'm still pregnant.

Now, some of you might say that I'm being over emotional about this whole thing. It's not that big of a deal, really. But, until you have been pregnant and have gone through the entire nine months of people either stating the obvious, randomly touching your stomach without permission, or asking if you've "dropped that load yet".... you can't really understand, can you?

Can you?

The Baker and the Bread

2009-01-21T00:03:00.000-08:00

She weighs in, heavy with anticipation.

Like freshly baked bread, round and warm,

Feeling with satisfaction on a job well done.

But the bread has baked for this nine months

And still, tap, tap, tap, the inside isn't done.

So tenderly the bread is scooted closer

To the coals, maybe turned a certain degree

To achieve a fully baked loaf.

Patiently, she sits and waits-

Rocking near the fire and

Counting the moments. Then,

Crisp and delicious he will arrive,

Just in time as always,

Perfect and bursting with flavor.

Her patience won,

Proud and content in her makings

Yet again,

She will hold him up for display-

-End-

Anxious

2009-01-14T08:38:00.000-08:00

"o.m.g.", said the 49 year old nurse in reference to her birthday coming up. Instantaneously eliminating feelings of nervousness about my check-up to the hospital here in Ohio. Thankfully I was able to see my favorite mid-wife, the one that I had with Penelope, Kitty. She walked in, brass and balls, talking the entire time. Ahh, I missed her.

According to Kitty, the boy is ready to go and my body is starting to get the idea that it's time to evict Jack from his cushy condo. I can speed this process about by drinking herbal teas and taking a strange pill twice a day everyday until the "Day" arrives.

Please Dear God let it be soon. Oi.

It feels like I have been continually pregnant for the past two years. . . Technically, except for that nine month stint where I was getting over being pregnant (the first round) and trying desperately to get back to pre-baby body, (pre-baby I was a size 7, people, with abs, come on now) I have been.

Jones said something amusing but utterly true yesterday, that living here is almost like living on a cruise ship, you can't really go anywhere but living here is really nice. Yeah, that about sums it up.

So far anyway...

Entry to the First of Transition

2009-01-09T07:29:00.000-08:00

Dear Diary -

Well, we're here.

I guess you could say that we've settled in but really, I still feel like we're visiting. Mom, Dad, Ben and I sat down and had a family discussion over plans and expectations from each other. It's simple: we clean up after ourselves and they will try not to parent us.

It's so odd being back in my parents house. Except that they moved into a much larger, much more beautiful and spacious house that can and will hold not only them but us and the new baby as well.

(And I have to look at this situation with a bit of a tongue-in-cheek approach I suppose, because mornings with my parents are still the same as they have been for the past probably 10 years.

Dad wakes up first, lets the dog out and while making coffee Fox News gets turned on for the daily intake of Republican news. Mom comes out maybe an hour later, gives Dad his morning kiss and fixes her cup of coffee waiting for "sleep mode" to be shut off and "reluctantly awake" mode to be completely turned on. They both chuckle at the dry wit of the news anchors and contemplate what to have for breakfast while George (Dads dog) yowls outside.)

Today was a little different as Mom and Dad both went to their mutual jobs and its just us at the house. So the Conservative news is off, WoW is on the other laptop and Penelope is down for her nap. Jones and I talk a little about the Economic Stimulus Plan of President Obamas', watched the Colbert Report, and had a little breakfast. As soon as this entry is completed, I go to make the bed, and then maybe get something else to eat. Who knows?

Jones is learning Dad's trade and started working with him yesterday. I've already made plans at the Miami Valley Hospital, where Pene was born, for check-up, insurance and to re-connect with my favorite mid-wife, Kitty. On the list of things to do for today, call down to Yellow Springs and hook up with Jen to possibly get boxes to color for her store while selling my jewelry at the same time. (cross your fingers folks)

I am tired. I will be honest about that. My eyelids are heavy and I feel as if I could sleep for the next century, but I will push myself to be awake and get things done today. Promise.

Oi, I already miss you so much, Gypsy.

Grunt

2009-01-03T15:43:00.000-08:00

We might leave sooner than later.

Penelope had her first sledding experience today. She went down a hill in Webster park, twice with Jones; and with the wind coming off the lake, twice was enough. It was such an exciting day that when we came home and had lunch she fell asleep for nearly two hours watching Lady and the Tramp.

There are so many things that are starting to be set in motion that its hard to know where to begin. It's hard to believe that we will be leaving this state within the next 48 hours. Just doesn't seem real to me.

I feel that there are things luring in the background, things that I can't quite put my finger on, and the impression of avoidance is in the air. Like there is something unsaid that i should know, but my own naivete is keeping me in the dark.

Maybe I'm being paranoid and hopefully, I am. I'm worried, cautious, and nervous about the next five minutes and I don't understand why.

To Wrap Up

2008-12-26T06:12:00.000-08:00

Two steps forward, three steps back.

Timing, as they say, is everything. What's the other one? Location, location, location.

Now to say some of my own words and not thief them off of general sayings and quotable quotes.

In short, we're moving. Back to Ohio.

It's seems that the Fates, God in His Heaven, karma or sheer irony that we move to Rochester not two months before the Economic Depression decimated everything and everyone in New York State. After about three months of living there the following happens in rapid succession:

I, once again, am pregnant. Jones and I, both had jobs, good jobs, that were swiftly taken away from us because of no one being able to afford their employ. Jones found a job within 5 days of losing his last one, but at the cost of making a little over 2800 a month to barely making 800 a month.

Plans and dreams that we had made with Cass and her husband fell through because of Jones' and Cass's mom interfering, costing us precious savings and the idea of having our own home.

We, that is Jones, I, Penelope, Cass and Brent move out of the in-laws home into an apartment nestled in the sweetest corner of Rochester only to have the landlords turn out to be shysters, Jones' truck be impounded and then three days later taken away; the apartment across the hall from us catches fire; all of us come down with a type of cold/flu virus strain that knocks all of us on our ass.

I cannot, the life of me, find a job. The apartment quickly goes from being a safe haven to a safety hazard. Money is tight, even tighter still with rising food prices and costs of living in New York that have nearly doubled since moving up here in April.

And so, with all that, we take the one step left to us; because we have run out of safe havens and places in New York to turn to, we will return to Ohio, pick up where we left off and hopefully gain some footing in this life.

This is my daughter, I move for her survival.

Plans are set. Decisions made. Now we have to live with them once more. After all Publilius Syrus said it best, "We must give lengthy deliberation to what has has to be decided once and for all."

Sheer Drop

2008-12-23T07:47:00.000-08:00

Precipice.

Here's what happened:

#1. There's a hole in the roof right over my sister-in-law's and her husband's room (I live with them) and there's really no way to stop the leaking that is happening in their room without the help of a professional roofer.

#2. We call the landlord (and by call we mean fervently, eagerly, vehemently, every other hour starting at midnight on Friday) and find that not only will they not answer the phone but when calling the emergency line, a child picks up, relays the message to one of the people in charge who in turn say that they won't be able to do anything since this is Christmas week. Bullshit.

They call back saying that they will send a fix-it man over to the apartment on Monday, well he came and said that he would get back to us when the management gets back to him on cost and the like.

#3. Which in turn starts our minds turning in the direction not paying rent since we have witnessed over the past few months that our landlords don't really give a damn about us or any of the other tenants.

Although that should have been made abundantly clear when the fire across the hall happened and they still haven't tried to fix the place up, nor try to fix any of the damaged property on our side or the people below them.

Why not then just break the lease and move somewhere else? I would love to, except the fact remains that I am 8 months pregnant with 7 weeks to go, moving really isn't an option at the moment. I would have to wait for, at the least, 4 months until Jack was big enough to handle the trip. And where to live in the Roc.? Dunno. No jobs, failing economy, and massive debt have put us in the position where we are right now. Fantastic, isn't it?

If we did move, It would be a mass move of the house back to Ohio. Where jobs, free rent, affordable schooling and the ability to get out of debt, lay.

#4. Sister-in-law's car does not have working windshield wipers. Why does that matter? Because this is Rochester, and even though it isn't snowing at this very moment, it could start in the next five minutes.

#5. Baby boy is kicking and moving lower and lower into position, although his feet are in my ribs, and I'm getting the feeling that Jack is going to make his grand entrance a little sooner than we'd like to think. February? Please. Try January. . . Maybe.

#6. Planned a trip over to the Gailforce House on Thursday. That in of itself is enough to send anyone into an alcoholic depression.

my denouement in this is as always to keep my chin up.

I was going to put a quote about dreaming/hoping for the tomorrow from someone important, someone who knows a thing or two about dreaming.

There are a couple of good ones like Victor Hugo who said, "There is nothing like dream to create the future. Utopia to-day, flesh and blood tomorrow."

Or, "I know how men in exile feed on dreams of hope." - Aeschylus (Agamemnon)

But then I realized that at the bottom of the page lay two links. The previous link said Quotes on Doubt and the forward link said, Quotes on Drinking.

the snootiness

2008-12-14T09:10:00.000-08:00

What a fantastic day! Yesterday that is; today seems to be on the verge of being destroyed. But we won't go there, yet.

Traveled through time and space making my way down to Pittsford Barnes & Noble. If anyone knows anything about Pittsford, it is that it's a village chuck full of snobbery. Everyone, on that end of town, is new money and those that are not new money, work for those that have the money (See indentured servitude, i.e. the multi-plex that is Wegmans next to the Barnes & Noble).

Knowing this, I ventured down there anyway embracing the condescension, looking for entertainment in vein of literature. Laurell K. Hamilton, one of my faves, came out with a new novel a few weeks ago so, I wanted to dive headfirst into faerie-dom and become lost between pages. And I did, delving 14 chapters in before I had to put it down. Also, a very tired elderly gentleman started snoring next to me and threw off my reading/visualizing groove. I was walking out before I noticed the that there were ten or twelve authors, children's authors, sitting at tables, and signing books and things. My favorite author from my middle school years, Vivian Vande Velde, was there at the signing and we got to talk and she took a picture with me!! Signed a postcard from her new book, The Book of Mordred, and gave it to me!

(insert skipping, whooping and hollering all the way home, blaring the stereo and singing at top of lungs celebrations)

Afterwards, at home, Jones and I snuggled on the couch watching The Paper Chase, and then watched Hugh Laurie on SNL. What a fantastic day.

Jack's Heart and the Old Country

2008-12-10T15:12:00.000-08:00

When I found out I was pregnant with my boy Jack, I was worried that he was going to inherit his grandfathers (my father-in-laws) genetic heart defect. He has a bi-cuspid valve heart, instead of a tri-cuspid. There's a big, long, medical terminology word that sums all that up but I feel the need to write it out instead of trying to spell it (in other words, I don't know the word, I'm just trying to make myself feel better by explaining.).

Jones didn't inherit this defect, for which I am thankful, but this flaw has the ability to skip generations. When asked at the doctors if I knew further back from my father-in-laws family, I couldn't give them an answer on anything because Jones' family immigrated from Poland during the mid-twenties. Medical records were shuffled and lost, so any information from the Old Country concerning this condition is lost. But then again, would they know about this heart weakness or no? Medicine back then - who could say.

When I first had my sonogram, they couldn't see the outflow portion of Jack's heart, so from that combined with what we knew of the family, it was plausible that he inherited the family heart trait. My father-in-law, when he heard this, actually apologized to me for his terrible genes.

That was of course, till today. I have beautiful pictures (don't know how I'm going to put them up but I promise one of these days i will get there) of a little boy and his beautiful, perfect-working heart. God is good, oh yes, God is good.

I can already tell that this one will be the spitting image of his father. 3-D imaging is amazing.

It's a Date

2008-12-07T08:43:00.000-08:00

Date Night!

It's been quite sometime since Jones and I went out on a date. Or at the very least, going to a place that didn't include carting kid, diaper bag, and stroller, make-sure-you-have-a-sippy-of-juice thing. It was just us getting out of the house and away for awhile.

We went to The Little Theater and saw Australia with Nicole Kidman and Hugh Jackman. They don't make movies like that anymore, epic westerns. Very reminiscent of Charleton Heston in The Big Country. (Before I am frowned upon for watching a mainstream movie instead of an indie film at the Little, let it be known that I wasn't in the mood to think existential thought, contemplate the cosmos, or try to find hidden meanings in every little aspect of the acting, like most indie films are want to do.) It was so nice getting out with Jones and just getting lost in the accents and the scenery of the movie. There was a point where, I think, the film kinda got lost in itself because it was trying to be so grand and adventurous, but no matter. Most likely, I would see it again.

We were going to go see Sadie Frank at Boulder Coffee, but by the time the movie ended it was 9:30, the movie started at 7. . . so, that idea was quickly 86'd. However we did romp around East Ave. Wegman's, I was hungry and Jones wanted to be Jonesly. We walked around, doing the impulse shoppers game, which is very bad by the way! Passed by some guys that looked straight out of an 80's metal band via Iron Maiden. Jones stated that they were the type of guys you would see at Java's, talking about indie films and existential thought.

Awesome.

We went home to find a cranky half-awake cub waiting impatiently for us, and a Joe in need of a break. I ate my happy wrap, put Pene to bed and watched Slapshot with Jones. All in all. . .a great date night.

Apartment A

2008-12-02T10:07:00.000-08:00

Today Cass and I went next door.

To most there is nothing significant about going next door. But for us there is because of the fire. When looking out our door, staring into the opposite apartment door, the usually white paint is now streaked with gray and black from the smoke. The door was unlocked for some reason, so we took it upon ourselves to go in and see the damage that an electrical fire caused.

You walk in and are immediately greeted with the stench of burnt plastic and wood. the walls look like they've been painted black instead of burnt. to the right of you, is a bedroom with a charred bed frame and a semi-melted bottle of Tums. Even further to the right is the remnants of what used to be a living room. Melted and destroyed dvd's litter the floor, the carpet is pealed back and singed next to the hollowed out couch; thats where you realize that that was the place where the fire started.

Turning around and walking down the blackened hallway, the smoke streaks look like some type of cascade effect down the left side of it. Comprehension grows that it was the firemen hosing down the flames. To the right is another bedroom, one with a few unlit cigarettes in it and a ruined mattress, further down is the last bedroom, bathroom and kitchen, all smoked, dark and sad.

Perhaps its the last bedroom that struck us most as depressing, because our newly found friend, Jeremy, died just a short while after the fire. After seeing his bedroom, we understood why; a lofted bed, maybe three or four feet from the ceiling. Asphyxiation of the lungs, combined with his legs getting caught on fire. It was such a sad thing to see, the bed still had sheets and a blanket on it, and one cannot help but feel the presence of despair - simply because, there were no fire alarms in the apartment at all.

We turned around, walked out, but not before seeing the half empty Genny Light in the kitchen. It probably came from the pack that we bought for them, for helping us move into our side of the apartment building.

I still have dreams of that fire. Being woken up at 5:30, racing down the back stairwell and shivering on the lawn while I called the fire department. Screaming at the top of my lungs, "what's next?!" and seeing nothing but stars, and hearing nothing but the flames beginning to spread in the building. Someone shouts my name, waking me from a deep sleep and the hairs on the back of my neck rise when I look over and Jones is sound asleep.

Sometimes, I feel like Jeremy is around the house now, Penelope will point off to no where in particular and start having a conversation with the air. This evening as I was trying, in vain, to feed her dinner, she stared off into the corner of the kitchen, pointing and talking. I watched her face follow something from one end to the other of the kitchen, pointing the entire time. Looking back and forth from me to whatever it was shuffling back and forth. Off setting? Yes. Thank you.

If Jeremy is still around, I hope he gets a little joy out of watching Penelope try to interact with him. I hope he finds a little bit of peace and rests assured that we changed all the batteries in our alarms the day after the fire.

Optimistic Comfort Farm

2008-12-01T18:23:00.000-08:00

And to this end I state only this: "Just because I'm a Mommy, doesn't mean I don't need a day off every now and then."

Watching Penelope makes me think of how wonderful it is to be a little kid. So interesting in their abilities to create little worlds, little words and their own nuances. To be completely clueless about the environment that they live in, all they know is that Mommy and Daddy love them and cardboard boxes are the worlds greatest toy. To be that young, innocent and pure. What a gift they have, and they don't even realize it yet. It's no wonder that Jesus said, "Let the little children come unto me, and forbid them not. For the kingdom of God belongs to such as these."(Matthew 19:14) Its that purity of unswerving devotion and love that they have for their parents that create this envy that some have of them.

Relationships with one's parents is usually a forked road. Either you have a relationship, or you don't. Simple as that. The outlook on life that we have can be traced back to how we are with our parents, follow the logic of either optimism or pessimism.

Thinking about that, I always come back to the differences between Jones and mine upbringing. He has a profound hatred of his parents. The depth and unfeigned hatred that he has for them and his past is staggering. Jones had to learn how to raise himself, he had to learn how to be an adult before he really knew what being a teenager meant. He really didn't have someone to look up to, didn't have someone to talk to about life-altering decisions. I did.

I didn't realize it growing up, but I had a pair of parents that were wonderful to me. Still are. The relationship I have with them are one of the reasons why I can get up in the more with a hope that things will be okay. It's been nearly three years since I moved out of the house, and somehow there is comfort in knowing that they are there cheering me on.

How blessed am I? Penelope will never know two of her grandparents. We've discussed and decided that her not knowing the Jones side of the family, except for two eccentric aunts, would be better for her in the long run. Because then she wouldn't feel trapped or guilted into anything - She could just be (Princess) Penelope.

Knowing that, gives me a small measure of relief. Because all she will know is love.