Book

Sometimes I have these grandiose day dreams of how I have struck it unbelievably rich. They make me smile and I idly kick around the best imaginary scheme possible and then blow it up into super power size. This pass time passes time with amazing speed.

My favorite one this week is that someone somewhere somehow finds my book and publishes it. Of course they are a good decent person and they set it up so that when the true author is found, me, all proceeds will be passed to me 100%. Of course the first thing that I do is give this do good-er a well deserved and generous cut. The book will have a modest following but enough of one that we could fix up the back yard and add a studio/ art type of room for me and expand the current disastrous mess of an office into something decent with shelves galore for my guy.

The only major problem with this shiny story is that I never did finish my book. The least of my problems is the ‘someone somewhere somehow’ part. I could fix that one. I have tried out different sets of people and I have decided on a successful publisher who happens to be a woman with graying blond hair. She will be on the opposite sides of politics that I am on and will prefer cats to dogs and we will get along famously. The where part is a little more difficult but not impossible because I can lump that one in with the ‘how’. I have thrown manuscripts into the thrift store bin a couple of times. Maybe she is also a flea market fan.

I heard your question Reader; “Why would you throw a manuscript into a thrift store bin?”

The obvious answer, and I am surprised you asked, is that if I had thrown them away in the trash then I would have had to have a funeral. The second option, to pack them, is that I couldn’t because they were hopeless cases. Idle excellent characters that are bored out of their brains are restless bed partners and they were keeping me up at night. They had to move out.

I was completely stumped. Even the story line was bored! I thought that if someone out there could finish the story then the story would find that someone. If not, the irritated employee could throw them out and spare me the despair of knowing I can’t write and shouldn’t bother trying anymore.

I have been trying to start a new one the last couple of years. I am distracted, more the usual, and this one is based off of memories and journals.

So far it is also bored.

No changes

The day was gorgeous, my family was wonderful, my Dad made a few cry, my sweetheart and I nailed the dance, and the general feeling of the entire event was happy, fun, pretty and I have roses all over the house to prove that it happened.

Such happiness!

Would we change from us though? I was really worried about this. I was more worried about this then I was about anything else; more then running nearly an hour behind schedule, more then the fact that it rained up until fifteen minutes before the outdoor ceremony started, that the Minster ran late or if I liked my hair. That one is still a pending decision.

Would we change?

Reader I am happy to report that we did not, at least not that I can tell. For all of his impossible procrastination, lack of house keeping skills and the shoes he leaves all over the house- I love us just the way we are. Want to know why?

He will bark at me when I wind myself up into an anxious house cleaning machine and I will ignore him. I will attempt to nag him to death and he just blissfully tunes me out. He will hold my hands when I am freaking out and watch me and stay with me until I calm down. I will listen to his stories and he will listen to mine –even though now we are on repeat sometimes.

But mostly because I can make him laugh like no one else can and he can make me laugh when nothing else will.

Ah.... newlyweds are nauseating aren't they?

Foxtrot

I have to comment on the political circus arena. The show is just too spectacular to ignore and I have to compliment the illusion of jumping hyenas through water hoops.

Clap Clap Clap!

Closing of the ‘G’ bay –I daren’t say the whole word, people have seizures.

Second ‘Bailout’. Firing of CEO’s of private corporations. Bank and Auto takeovers. Mortgage and Financial Brokerage takeovers.

(By the by… Take over is defined with the metaphor in mind of using said bailout money to duct tape certain mouths shut and then refusing to allow corporations to give the duct tape back)

‘Special Advisors’ appointed to positions that they have no experience in but did happen to make large donations to the last political campaign. Reporters profiled prior to interviews, questions staged at ‘open debates and town halls’ and paid for questionnaires. Black panther gang members guarding polling posts. Powers appointed to lobbyists galore…

Then Health Care. Now the CIA probe.

The media and political puppets coo and coax “You are just fine! The economy is coming back!!” as the stock market stumbles, reels, and staggers across the same stage and unemployment continues to sky rocket…

This is a hell of a foxtrot on the political stage.

What on earth are they frantically holding our attention so closely for? What is the distraction distracting us, the public, from?

Lets start with Health Care. All Americans have access to Health Care. All Americans DO Not have affordable access to insurance. And I am one of them -At least independently and without an employer's group program. I have a pre-existing condition which nullifies my eligibility.

Now granted, I have not been sick for a while so I can say this without flinching but I don’t think a government health plan will help. If this overly involved in-law type of government really must have their fingers in this massively bloated and messy issue… why not cap frivolous law suits? Why not reduce the limitations that restrict insurance companies from covering additional individuals across state lines?

Or the "Closing of the ‘G’ bay"… why is it that called that? It is not closing… the thing is simply moving, all inmates included.

Bailout? This was an exploding increase in a spoiled child’s allowance -only this child is a red faced screaming nightmare which has been melded with a patronizing trust fund brat who steps all over your clean carpet and smiles at you in that insulting way –you all know what I mean.

WHAT business is it of the government if a CEO runs his company into the ground with poor management? I say Let it crumple, just as they have before. The Great Depression was twice or three times longer then it needed to be because of government involvement. Why are we on repeat?

Taxes are ridiculous. Do you know how much sales revenues would increase if income taxes decreased? I have no idea honestly but it seems it would take simple math to figure it out. We are seeing increased taxes instead. Maybe not yet on income but certainly on property, cars, products, etc.

What is going on? Seriously.

The hamsters in my head.

I could taste emotion as one could taste a freshly cut onion or smell cut grass in the summer evening.

It could be arid, bitter, fresh but some how emotions always taste raw.

I could feel emotions in and around me too. This ever flowing stream of water or air, it was a light brush against my arms or a tickle on the back of my knees.

The world was as bright as crayons are to a child. The walls begged for color so I painted them. Bold and vivid and true.

Too bright? Too much blue? Too much orange, red, purple and green? Impossible!

Don’t you shiver too Reader? Like I do? I think you must. I think we all must. But if you have forgotten how to try this: Close your eyes sometime, as a storm is brewing and when the tree branches are clapping and shuddering and cheering in the tremulous toss up in the sky. Close your eyes and listen. Goose bumps will rise on your arms and there is a funny little shaking that can happen in your heart.

Or! Or; Close your thoughts and turn off the radio while you drive in your car to work. Those over sized and far too tall pedestals rubbing their wrought iron sides together- that sound? Turn that sound inside out. Now that sound is the beating of feet on rocks and you are running through a painting rendered of a South American forest. The air is humid not dry, the world is humming with insects and sweat.

And I shiver. Every time I do that I shiver. It is best when someone else is driving the car and I can look out the window and disappear into air and find myself on a far off mountain side. Sometimes I see deer running and I imagine that I am one of them. If I close my eyes and listen and listen and listen and then I can imagine slender legs, four of them. Smooth rough fur and soft large ears and dark serious eyes.

The imagination is a fantastic thing. It is magic and wonder.

My sweetheart says he wonders what goes on in my head but Reader, without what goes on in my head I don’t think I could handle the nastiness of this job and of people and feeling tired in the morning.

In my head I am still about six years old.

Dis-jointed

Edgy today. This is a day of where I have nothing but disjointed thoughts and I move together with myself as a disjointed body would; a stumbling awkward kind of walk through a vague kind of day.

A change is coming so Huge that I can not grasp it. I am excited for it. Happy for it. And completely terrified.

I know everything is about to change and to be the same.

I have a few questions about this too. How will I define myself after this? How will he? How will my dreams, my thoughts change?

Luckily Sally won’t see a difference. I can count of her to not notice or bugger me about it. Charlie is likely included in that boat.

Will I know his passwords and will he know mine? Not just the passwords on technical things but the passwords to a bike lock or a high school locker’s combination.

Will he see me as he did and as he does? Wait, I retract that line of questions and would rather start with: How does he see me?

AND I AM OLD Reader. Not with loads of wrinkles or gray hairs but old as in I should know I am older. I sat in the shower last night and scowled at my feet. They are older too; more slender and definitely fat somehow. I couldn’t tell you what they were three years ago but I know what they are now.

On an up note; my hands are still young. The wrists are just beginning to show signs of time but my hands have not betrayed me noticeably just yet.

However…my elbows have gone to the pig pen. Soft and potato like. I will keep them though.

Last my hair… I know I dyed it dark brown a couple of years ago and MURDERED it. But… well I thought that by now it would not be so unhappy still. Don’t get me wrong. My hair is a valiant soul and looks quite pretty but it is still a little dried out…

Last, do dragonflies know that they are going to grow old too? Do dogs and cats and trees?

And so go the thoughts in my head today.

Early August

It smells like autumn outside. The anxious excited feeling was in my hands when I woke up buried in the covers this morning. It is only early August but the wind brought cold clean air over night and the sunshine feels a little distant today. I am not ready for the summer to hint of leaving. Last winter was a long one.

Regardless, and although it is only early August, I could taste the bite of the harvest season in the air. How I love the fall. She is a dear friend and one I enjoy every year with overwhelmed senses and flooded emotions.

I was up early and played with my dog outside. The wind woman hummed unassumingly but I closed my eyes and listened with appraising ears. She laughed softly as she played with dust in cool sunlight and did not notice my attentive human focus.

Fall may come early this year. She will be wild with color from all the rain this last spring. The ache is here already; in my feet, in my hands, in my soul. But I am not restless this time, this feels more intense then simple anxiety. More of a deep calm resting at the surface of water as building life swirls underneath.

I feel aloof and gentle and still. Rocks may break my surface but they hardly touch the breathing deep below.

And then there is my sweetheart. Perhaps I am feeling a little detached from everything but not from my little family.

Unita's

Last weekend, my Sally went with us to go on a second camping trip, this time in the Unita’s. I was so excited for her. As far as I know Sal has never experienced sleeping outside or sitting by a camp fire.

I brought her to REI two days before.

My city slicker presently owns a pair of dog shoes and a rain jacket. (*Yes, a rain jacket. Try walking a long haired dog in drenching rain and then bringing back your four legged sopping wet mop into a apartment that is completely carpeted….)

I will spare you the play by play that parents or pet owners love to give but will summarize with this.

I have the best dog ever.

She carried her pack happily and she chased chipmunks, rabbits and birds. She came immediately when called, she did not like the fire but warily watched it from a distance she designated as safe and although she was very uncertain about the whole sleeping outside thing, she was good and stayed close.

The best part? There she was excited and alert but on the way home? She did not open her eyes for the entire two hour drive back but crashed completely in the back.