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.

Moab

I meant to touch on the camping trip and realized, a month later… that I didn’t.

Moab is…. How to draw Moab?

We arrived in the evening and we started our visit then and there by scrambling around the top of Dead Horse Point. My best sweetheart told me the story of how the place acquired its name and it left me with a tightened throat. Sunset fell completely and the night wind swept up the sheer cliffs, blowing my clothes against me and my hair into snarls. My hands hurt which was interesting. My hands always ache when I am high up. Heights do something to my heart rate too. So although I couldn’t see perfectly, my body knew where I was.

For a woman raised on the east coast for most of her formative years…. Beauty, to me, is the wet grass, the fireflies, the smell of the sea, rain in the afternoon, green everywhere. This was a different world completely.

Moab is a swirling dance of red, orange, and dusty purple during the day. It is fire and brilliant shards of light at dusk. It is a calm grey blue at night.

Silence beats against your ears. Regardless of whether is it a trail with very few companion hikers or if it is where tourism and crowds abound, the silence streams around the shrill echoes of laughter and brushes against your legs, eyes and heart. Silence is alive there.

Towering rocks are temples, they are forbidding and watchful as you pass under them. The ground exhales under your feet and for all the stones, dust, and solid ancient landscape, somehow Moab is vibrantly Alive and Self-Aware. It is an Eerie, and almost Holy place.

There the wind woman is even more wild and dangerous and beautiful. Although I have always loved and distrusted her, I have never felt fear. There, I was so sensitive to my fragile body and her fierce freedom that I was actually afraid.

It was exhilarating.

Mr. Coffee Maker

News item!

I must announce, with great regret that there has been a tragedy. A good friend of mine has perished in a loud squealing death. Trusted for over ten years to be my morning motivator and inspiration –Mr. Coffee Maker… left us for a world (AKA trash can).

It started out as usual Thursday morning. I staggered blindly out of bed, scoped up a cup of dog food and on the way to Sal’s bowl, turned on Mr. Coffee Maker.

Heartened by the knowledge that a mug of warm smooth Gevalia, freshly brewed would be waiting for me in five to ten minutes, I fell back into bed for my five minute alarm clock snooze.

It felt like I woke up years later but actually it was about four mins and thirty seconds, in horror.

Where was the breath taking comforting aroma of my morning stimulation? I waited. The alarm went off.

A terrible sound reached my ears…

“GRRRRRBBBBLLLLUUPPP…sssssssssssssssssssssssSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS….”

Cautiously I got up… Charlie stared with complete fascination at the counter where sat Mr. Coffee Maker and a queasy amount of steam blowing out of its top.

I stared too.


“GRRRRRBBBBLLLLUUPPP...ssssssssssssssssssssssSSSSSSSSSSSRRRRRBBBBLLLLUURRRRRBBBBLLLLUUSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS….”

The rest of the thirty minutes, before I dash out to work, are a blur. Shock and denial required me to leave Mr. Coffee Maker on, struggling, choking and gasping -until my best friend ordered the horrible noise to stop.

I bought terrible burnt stale gas station coffee on the way to work and sipped it morsely.