It's a mad, mad, mad, mad world

"The only people for me are the mad ones,
the ones who are mad to live,
mad to talk,
mad to be saved,
desirous of everything at the same time,
the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing,
but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars
and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop
and everybody goes "Awww!"




Jack Kerouac

Peek-A-Boo

I see you, Standing there in the corner of the room, wearing responsibility like a heavy wool coat. I've watched you now for quite sometime, buttoning and unbuttoning. Sometimes you fidget, like you want to be free of the warmth and the smell and the way that it itches at your skin, but, you always keep it on. You have sometimes looked longingly out the window, at the men who walk the streets unencumbered by coats of their own. You think to yourself how jolly it would be to be out there, even for just a while, but you never go. My mind imagines how heavy it must weigh on your shoulders and the strength you must need in your neck and back to remain so erect in your posture, I wonder that you are not bent after all these years.

I see you watching me too, in a coat of my own. Flitting here and there wearing it as lightly as a summer jacket for an unexpected cool breeze. One moment on and the next lain down somewhere and forgotten. You want to yell at me for that, I know. To scream at me the injustice of it all. Usually, though, I turn an insolent look in your direction, both of us aware of the roles we play in our costumes. Yours is the greater burden I know, and even in moments of resentment, I love that you wear that ugly coat, that beautiful, horrid, heavy coat.

I see you and the burden you bear. Even when you think I'm not looking...
I see you

Get with the program

I hate used car salesmen. I hate, hate, hate them. They are the bain of existance, in the same league as lawyers and politicians.

So, I'm in the market for a truck. I know what I want to pay, and I know what the average Kelly Blue Book says, so I'm thinking, piece of cake right?

Wrong.

I am a woman. I obviously don't know jack about how to buy a car, except, someone forgot to inform me of this information. Seriously, I don't want to have to take my father or my brother or my husband along just to get somebody to listen to me. Don't try to steer me to some bling, bling or a cute little SUV that looks like a shoe box on wheels. I want to look at the quad cab, right there, yeah, the red one. I want four-wheel drive and a winch on the front. Got K-C lights? Even better. I want that broken seat adjuster fixed and I want someone to look at that ping in the engine too. I'm not sitting here all day while you go talk to your manager about my money either. This is my price, sell me that truck or not just tell me now befor I waste my afternoon filling out stupid paper work. I don't care that you give out free coffee and chocolate let's talk warranty. Yeah, on second thought maybe you should go get your boss...

Napoleon, fix yourself a dang quesadilla!

You are LaFawnduh. Why are you so sweaty?


Which Napoleon Dynamite character are you?
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The Theory of Relativity

I'm sorry that you can't read my handwritting.

That you think I don't listen.

I'm sorry that I smile too much and twiddle my hair.

That maybe you think I'm more trouble than I'm worth.

I'm sorry I can't pretend to be less than who I am.

That I say what I mean and knock you off balance.

I'm sorry that you think I'm stealing your sunshine,

Like a vine of over-ripe tomatos.

I'm sorry I never have learned the art of neglect.

That I love you all the time, even when you're not looking.

I'm sorry that I'm not a good conversationalist.

That I have never read Carl Segan.

I'm sorry that my silences are not profound.

That I am not like you.




I'm just a simple Irish girl,
and for that,
I am not sorry.

I am Loving you today...

Self-Pity



"I never saw a wild thing
sorry for itself.

A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough
without ever having felt sorry for itself."




D. H. Lawrence

Man in Space

I have encountered a few new readers recently who have wondered about my blog title. It is the title one of my favorite poems. Since I haven't posted it in a while I thought I would share it again for those of you who were wondering.





All you have to do is listen to the way a man
sometimes talks to his wife at a table of people
and notice how intent he is on making his point
even though her lower lip is begining to quiver,

and you know why the women in science fiction movies
who inhabit a planet of their own
are not pictured making a salad or reading a magazine
when the men from earth arrive in their rocket,

why they are always standing in a semi-circle
with their arms folded, their bare legs set apart,
their breasts protected by hard metal disks.




Billy Collins "The Art of Drowning"

Anatomy of a Kiss

I went to the Phoenix Art Museum today.
They are having another Monet exhibit, and since he is a particular favorite of mine, I was so excited to have the pleasure of going. There are, in the museum, many pieces that I gravitate to. Every time I visit something in them calls to me in a voice I've come to love like my own. Philip Curtis for example, and today especially Rodin. His masterpiece sculpture, The Kiss.
I can never seem to get enough of this piece when I go, there is a subtlty in it that I find fascinating.
For instance, I love that the bodies of the two lovers are entwined, touching in a way that suggests they are passionate. This is definately no peck on the cheek, "Hi honey, I'm home" kind of expression. It is very sensual, perhaps the beginning of sexual arousal. I love too, that the male is supporting the female. On the bottom, holding her on his lap with one arm embracing her, soft and gentle. I get the feeling he would like to draw her in a little closer to him. I love the tilt of her head and the way she has turned her body to him with one arm around his neck, a subtle display of surrender and yeilding. I love that the artist has chosen to place the male's hand on the woman's hip rather than grasping for her breast. This, in my opinion gives the impression of beauty and sweet moments rather than hot and heavy sex, making the piece harsh and maybe vulgar. As you walk completely around the sculpture you can see that all of their limbs are touching, they are connected at every angle. What I love the most though, is the way Rodin, in my opinion, has made them equal in this moment. The man is supporting the woman by being under her, he is not dominating her by standing or kneeling over or in front of her. You know, it's so common, that "I've come to rescue/fix you" pose that we see so often in art and film. The Prince Charming syndrome. Conversely, I love that the woman although turned to a yeilding position is free. Her legs dangle slightly her arms are free of obstruction, there is a sense of movement in the way she is voluntarily sitting. He is not smothering her or gathering up her arms in a tight embrace to restrict the movement implied.
I can relate to this, I connect on some level with this. I too, want to be free in my yelding. I want to be supported and carressed without being dominated and smothered. I want the freedom to chose, "do I sit or do I go"? In all of my male friendships there is nothing that I need from them, I simply want them. There is nothing in me that I'm looking to them to fix, there is no situation that I need them to rescue me from. We are equals, we are partners. Vunerability and strength are two dance partners guiding eachother in tandem to the music.

The Missing

Well, here in the fabulous state of Arizona, summer is peeking her luminous head around spring's corner and it's Travel Time in our household!
I had the great opportunity to spend the weekend with my parents in the eastern mountains of my beloved state last weekend and just yesterday I went to visit my son in the northern central mountains at his Alma Mater.Both of these were road trips, absolutely one of my favorite things, and I got to thinking as I drove back to the valley how much I love to travel.
Durring the summer months I have always taken my kids on great getaway vaccations, in the car and on the road for weeks at a time. This year I'm thinking the Grand Tetons. We have never been there but the drive would be wonderful. We also do a lot of weekend camping all around Arizona. We go to all of our favorite little spots, my kitchen is perpetually in the camping box and I buy marshmallows by the case. We lay out under the stars at night and doze durring the day in the shade of aspen and fir and pine. We swimm in the creek and hike the Mogillon Rim. There is horseback riding and rappelling, the Grand Canyon and Meteor Crater. Good Times.
So, in my thoughts today, I had a revelation of sorts. One of the best things I like about traveling...
Is comming home. The heat, the house, the husband, the lawn and, of course, the pool. What I also love is being told by my friends that I was missed. I thought hard about that today on my drive, about people who don't have connections like that to their surroundings. People who come and go and no one even takes notice. I thought, too, about the people that we want to leave and not come back. Those that show up after a vaccation and bring a forboding doom with them. So much so, that you wish they would be gone all the time.
I feel so blessed by that, the missing, I mean. That with all of my annoying habits and the things that people really hate about me, mixing so well with all my good parts together that when I'm not around something in their life is missing. What a compliment. In my heart and mind, that is presicely the single best compliment anyone can give me... "I missed you." To be so desired and liked for who we are, and the silly insignificant ways we touch others that can mean so much to them, often with very little consequence to ourselves. Cool.
So, today, even though I was only gon for a short time, my dogs missed me like it was a lifetime and several of my friends called to just say, "glad you're back, it's not the same when you're not here." and my husband the sweetest of them all, walking in from work with a big smile and a kiss, "so," he says "did you miss me?"

I want to touch you, I want to be touched

This was cool, check it out.


Touching is good

Women in Love

"Say you love me, say "my love" to me," she pleaded.

He looked back into her eyes, and saw. His face flickered with sardonic comprehension. "I love you right enough", he said, grimly. "But I want it to be something else."

"But why? But why?" she insisted, bending her wonderful luminous face to him. "Why isn't it enough?"

"Because we can go one better," he said, putting his arms around her.

"No we can't," she said, in a strong voluptuous voice of yeilding. "We can only love eachother. Say "my love" to me, say it, say it."

She put her arms around his neck. He enfolded her, and kissed her, murmuring in a subtle voice of love and irony, and submission,

"Yes,-my love, yes,- my love. Let love be enough then.- I love you then - I love you. I'm bored by the rest."

"Yes," she murmured, nestling very sweet and close to him.





D.H. Lawrence

Happy Birthday Zachariah

"To grasp the full significance of life is the actor's duty, to interpret it is his problem, and to express it his dedication."



Marlon Brando






P.S. Shhh, don't tell anyone, You're my favorite.

And now for something completely different...

"Embrace me, my sweet embraceable you..." was the tune playing on the sound system of the grocery store,
as I strolled through the isles reading the label of a gefelta fish jar,
I noticed my shoe was untied so
bending over I picked up the penny that was just lying there,
"Heads up, seven -up" the kids yelled as they raced out the door
to the bathroom was covered with graffiti and there was no toilet paper,
at my house so I thought I should probably get some
chocolate since it was close to "that time" and I was out of control
of my cart because of that one stupid wheel that won't turn
the corner and came upon the deli guy who asks,
"Can I help you?" not realising that twenty seconds ago I caught him picking
the roast beef looked a little green to me so I said
"Thanks, you too!" as the cashier handed me my change and I started to walk home,
and I thought...

"Behold the power of cheese..."

Sirens aren't evil, they're simply misunderstood

Your Seduction Style: The Coquette

You are a pro at playing the age old game of hard to get. Your flirting style runs hot and cold, giving just enough to keep them chasing you. Independent and self-sufficient, you don't need any one person to make you compelte. And that independence is exactly what makes people pursue you.

What Is Your Seduction Style?

Is it "All You Can Eat" or "Can You Eat All" ?

To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best to make you everybody else, means to fight the hardest human battle ever and to never stop fighting.

~ e.e. cummings



I went to an all you can eat buffet the other day. Yep. Me.
Hard to believe I know. I usually stay away from places that serve their food in a style very similar to a feeding trough but call me wild and crazy and unpredictable. Anyway, I'm standing there at the salad area looking at probably a dozen different salad selections and an area adjacent to that with rows upon rows of just vegis to build your own if one of the pre-fixed doesn't happen to suit you. Then I meander to the "meat section" and then the "bread section" slowly ambling toward the "sides and cooked vegetables". I have on my plate after all this walking, exactly three broccoli crowns, a slice of roast beef and a small spoonful of steamed green beans. I'm standing there looking dazed and confused and thinking, "this is just so much food!". So, I'm watching people, they're almost vicious. It was like a toy store I went to on Christmas Eve several years ago, two grown-ups actually came to blows over the last Barbie Palace. People at this resturaunt were stepping in front of others to go first and grabbing at the food like they hadn't eaten in a week! People! Seriously!
I make my way through the mob that's salivating over the ham and sit down looking at my plate. The very attractive guy sitting next to me is gobbling. Yep, that's right, a grown man is gobbling like there's no tommorrow. He's got his plate loaded like he's at a church pot luck. Sighing, I say, "I can't believe you are going to spend eight dollars on my lunch."
He stops and looks up at me. "Is that all your having?" He's a little incredulous at this point. "It's a buffet!" he says. "You can eat ALL you want!"

Okay so, side note here, I prefer in my dinning experiences QUALITY over QUANTITY.

"I really don't want that much, it's not healthy. Besides it isn't even very good food to begin with." I replied.
Shaking his head and looking somewhat condescending he says, "You're so high maintainance sometimes." Needless to say this comment makes me indignant, so I won't share with you the rest of the conversation, but you can use your imagination to fill in the gaps...

This whole thing actually triggered a different line of thinking. It got me to thinking about people. In general.
One of the things I've noticed in my short but multi-faceted life experience is that people have the hardest times accepting themselves and giving others permission to do the same. Myself included. So, when I came across this quotation from E.E. Cummings, I took pause.
The world is like a buffet. Not everything is attractive to everybody, but, it is attractive to somebody. And, just because something is attractive to you doesn't necesarily mean you will indulge yourself in that particular thing. The variety, however, is stimulating because there are so many different things to choose from. Friendships and aquaintances are much the same. There are people whith whom we could spend and eternity, and then there are those that we only take out when we absolutely have to. The thing I seem to find most people struggling with is trying to change so that they can be liked by a broader group dynamic. In fact, humans struggle constanly with the desire to be just like everyone else. We can call it "normal" or "fitting in" but the bottom line is we seem to not feel accepted unless we can readily identify something in ourselves with that same thing in someone else.

Am I losing you?

In our search for identity and individuality what we are really saying is, "I want people to like me just as I am!" Then, most of the time when the end result is achieved, we ourselves feel so uncomfortable we tweek and re-write untill we are more identifiable with the common, average soul walking the planet. Why do we do this to ourselves? More importantly, why do we do it to others? It's so difficult just finding yourself in the first place why do we constantly place ourselves in situations of self-doubt?

What am I really saying?

You know, it makes sense in my head. I guess what I'm thinking is that just because I personally HATE ham and I choose NOT to eat bread, doesn't mean that they don't add a whole lot to the overall experience for many others. It also doesn't mean that if they are being served I have to pretend like I like them.



"So, you be you...

And I'll be me...

and there's no blue food."


George Carlin

Excuses, Excuses

I've been thinking a lot lately about the Proverb 31 woman. I've been turning over in my mind the meaning of it and why exactly it's in there to begin with. On some level, I find myself feeling resentful that she should be my goal, my standard. Then there's a place somewhere else within me that wants to acheive her status. I'm torn.

I've been thinking a lot lately about my dry writing spell. That everytime I sit down I find myself surfing the web or just answering email. It used to be that I would hop right out of the shower dripping wet with too many ideas and the words were just there, falling out of me like the droplets of water falling from my body. When I would finish I would read and re-read what I had written and love it. Now I find mostly I just sit here.

I've been thinking a lot lately about the mother I've been to my children all these years and now that I stand at the precipice of the rest of my life with them grown I am afraid to take a step. I am afraid of falling. I am afraid. So I'm sitting down.

I've been thinking a lot lately about my weight loss. I'm thinking that my motivation in acheiving this goal might be skewed. I have never wanted to be evaluated based on my appearance and have purposely kept myself heavier than I should to prove a point. Or so I thought. I can admitt to myself now that it has been a direct challenge to the men in my life. A form of anger and agression, daring them to love me as I am. I never really expected them to. They have. I am motivating myself not to be healthy, but to be sexualy attractive. This feels like I am betraying myself. With every pound I lose I feel shame.

I've been thinking a lot lately about my inability to accept kindness and love from people who care about me. Steve said that I never let him thank me for all that I do for him and his mom. He's right. I feel so undeserving of love. It's easy to get self righteous and talk about the barter system, "tit for tat". The truth is I am still after all this time unworthy of love. When I accept it, I feel like a liar.

I've been thinking a lot lately about dying...


I've been thinking a lot lately.