I just took the Belief-O-Matic quiz! Here's my results :P
How did the Belief-O-Matic do? Discuss your results on our message boards.
1. Neo-Pagan (100%)
2. New Age (96%)
3. Unitarian Universalism (91%)
4.Liberal Quakers (78%)
5. Mahayana Buddhism (75%)
6. New Thought (70%)
7. Secular Humanism (68%)
8. Scientology (67%)
9. Hinduism (65%)
10. Theravada Buddhism (63%)
11. Jainism (63%)
12. Mainline to Liberal Christian Protestants (61%)
13. Reform Judaism (59%)
14. Taoism (52%)
15. Christian Science (Church of Christ, Scientist) (50%)
16. Sikhism (50%)
17. Baha'i Faith (44%)
18. Nontheist (40%)
19. Orthodox Judaism (39%)
20. Orthodox Quaker (38%)
21. Islam (28%)
22. Seventh Day Adventist (18%)
23. Mainline to Conservative Christian/Protestant (17%)
24. Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (Mormons) (14%)
25. Eastern Orthodox (13%)
26. Roman Catholic (13%)
27. Jehovah's Witness (12%)
Okay, so I'm UU, and third from the top ain't bad. Although I should really look into this Neo-Pagan thing. Also, I am considering printing this out and hanging it by the door for when the Jehovah's Witnesses come calling.
"We're here to tell you about our Church."
"Oh! Of course. Let me show you this paper I have." They look, "You see, this says that I'm eleven times more likely to agree to being a Hindu than your religion. Is it really worth it to keep knocking?"
And then you have the Mormons. I can't get enough of the Mormons on Big Love- love it.
And the boys on bicycles in those suits? I give them bottled water when the come by cause its always summer and their always sweating. Mormons are seriously nice. They are. And you can call that number and get the free Book of Mormon along with some nice bike riding boys to explain it to you. When I was in high school, my cousin would call for the books and try to be the downfall of cute morman missionaries.
"What were they doing at your house again?"
"I was showing them my weed." OMG. I don't think that's all she showed them. but let's move on!
You know, the religions I find myself most curious about don't self promote enough. It's not right that you can be sent a free Book of Mormon and a teacher, but really, if I call 1-800-Scientology, why can't they send me a free copy of L. Ron Hubbard's Power of Thought and John Travolta? Giovanni Ribisi? I actually want to read that book. And who can blame someone for being part of a religion thats mainly based on positive thoughts? Please Scientologists, get on the ball. Surely some of your wealthy members can pitch in for some Schwinns and some used paperbacks. Geez!
And what about the Jews? (Yep, I'm going there...) I love Jews. Love em. One of my best friends is Jewish. But they don't have any sort of open arm policy regarding new non jewish folk. Where's the "Come on by a few times, see if you like it" factor? I'll tell you. It's like a secret society because the fact is, they are afraid that if they do that, everyone will like it. Then you're gonna have people frying okra in the latke grease and what not.
I think it's one of those religions that goes hand in hand with an ethnicity. A heritage, if you will. A thing you have or haven't with no in between, like curls on a biracial child. You can admired the beauty of it but you cannot become it.
Incidentally, my great-grandmother's second husband was Jewish, and killed in Dachau. She was left with several small children. Very sad.
Shouldn't that get me in for the Apple dipping parties?
I'm terrible! Yikes.
I'd better get my ass on the treadmill. Something. Thanks so much for stopping in!
~ Much love, yours truly ~
Friday, March 27, 2009
Thursday, March 26, 2009
My 10 year old spit on both hands in the parking lot while walking, then applied the spit to her coiffure. I swear I didn't teach her that. Besides, it's raining :P
I watch her sometimes like you'd watch a bird or other interesting creature; the older your children get, the more you understand what Gibran means here-
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
and though they are with you, and yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love, but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
for their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward,
nor tarries with yesterday. -Kahlil Gibran
I see this in my daughter too. As we're in the store, she asks me if she can get the fruit roll ups with the contest entries printed on the roll ups. I tell her sure.
"You can win $100 in one of these boxes." I keep moving down the aisle and she's still sitting in the floor of the store, trying to decide which one is the winning box. :). She's my quiet yellow child, fitting since yellow is also her favorite color. The giraffe is her favorite animal- also yellow. Sunshine and daisies as well as Sagittarius Skeptical. She's in chorus at school but doesn't like to sing.
"They're only choosing 50 kids out of 200! They go on field trips too. You should have seen the kids that didn't get in, crying," I don't think it was so much about singing as it was about trying. She had a one in four chance to do something different.
I admire her ambition, seeing as I never had any of my own.
We're having baked spinach & cheese on WW pitas tonight with sliced tomatos and hummus with carrots. Because we're hippies! Just kidding. Really, it's just good.
Yesterday we had bean tacos. Being subjected to Unitarian pot lucks, :D, you get introduced to great food- really great. And while my family has been planting rows of blueberries, raspberries, kiwi vines, and grapes, and we do long for self sufficiency, I also have a closet appreciation for crap like Cap'n Crunch Berries. If you've read my old blogs, I think I've blogged several times on my crunchy friend the Cap'N. (It's seriously delicious, although they could have left all the berries red- the blue and purple ones are a challenge for even me). This morning I could not partake in my Cap'N breakfast joy.
I burned my mouth the other night at World of Wings on the fried mushrooms and it's still sore. Incidentally, world of Wings has the best Fried Mushrooms that have ever ever been created, but let em sit for awhile. They also have Coconut Curry wings and 20 other wing sauces.
Who am I?
I'm the person who brushes my teeth in the shower.
I'm also the person who buys the oatmeal raisin cookie dough.
I called my husband to ask about his day. He's witnessed a 'pilfering,' he tells me.
"I saw someone shoplifting at the gas station. I thought about ratting them out, but I didn't."
"Oh?"
"Other people saw her too. She was at the end of the aisle squeezed next to it, and she pulled a maxipad out of a box and stuck it in her pocket. Then she took it to the bathroom."
"Yeah, that would be a pretty crazy thing to have to go to jail for."
"Yeah, I thought so too."
I'm glad my husband didn't rat out the one maxipad stealing woman. But it was strange to be talking about a maxipad theft my husband witnessed over the phone. (I also thought his use of the word pilfering was clever).
You know you love someone when 18 years later
you still marvel at their little stories!!!
Thanks for stopping in :) kat
I watch her sometimes like you'd watch a bird or other interesting creature; the older your children get, the more you understand what Gibran means here-
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
and though they are with you, and yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love, but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
for their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward,
nor tarries with yesterday. -Kahlil Gibran
I see this in my daughter too. As we're in the store, she asks me if she can get the fruit roll ups with the contest entries printed on the roll ups. I tell her sure.
"You can win $100 in one of these boxes." I keep moving down the aisle and she's still sitting in the floor of the store, trying to decide which one is the winning box. :). She's my quiet yellow child, fitting since yellow is also her favorite color. The giraffe is her favorite animal- also yellow. Sunshine and daisies as well as Sagittarius Skeptical. She's in chorus at school but doesn't like to sing.
"They're only choosing 50 kids out of 200! They go on field trips too. You should have seen the kids that didn't get in, crying," I don't think it was so much about singing as it was about trying. She had a one in four chance to do something different.
I admire her ambition, seeing as I never had any of my own.
We're having baked spinach & cheese on WW pitas tonight with sliced tomatos and hummus with carrots. Because we're hippies! Just kidding. Really, it's just good.
Yesterday we had bean tacos. Being subjected to Unitarian pot lucks, :D, you get introduced to great food- really great. And while my family has been planting rows of blueberries, raspberries, kiwi vines, and grapes, and we do long for self sufficiency, I also have a closet appreciation for crap like Cap'n Crunch Berries. If you've read my old blogs, I think I've blogged several times on my crunchy friend the Cap'N. (It's seriously delicious, although they could have left all the berries red- the blue and purple ones are a challenge for even me). This morning I could not partake in my Cap'N breakfast joy.
I burned my mouth the other night at World of Wings on the fried mushrooms and it's still sore. Incidentally, world of Wings has the best Fried Mushrooms that have ever ever been created, but let em sit for awhile. They also have Coconut Curry wings and 20 other wing sauces.
Who am I?
I'm the person who brushes my teeth in the shower.
I'm also the person who buys the oatmeal raisin cookie dough.
I called my husband to ask about his day. He's witnessed a 'pilfering,' he tells me.
"I saw someone shoplifting at the gas station. I thought about ratting them out, but I didn't."
"Oh?"
"Other people saw her too. She was at the end of the aisle squeezed next to it, and she pulled a maxipad out of a box and stuck it in her pocket. Then she took it to the bathroom."
"Yeah, that would be a pretty crazy thing to have to go to jail for."
"Yeah, I thought so too."
I'm glad my husband didn't rat out the one maxipad stealing woman. But it was strange to be talking about a maxipad theft my husband witnessed over the phone. (I also thought his use of the word pilfering was clever).
You know you love someone when 18 years later
you still marvel at their little stories!!!
Thanks for stopping in :) kat
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Lucky Me! Yearly Gyn. visit today
& doesn't everyone so look forward to these.
Waiting room of extremely clean yet full bladdered women there.
Okay, so if your pregnant, I'll excuse you, since you get those sweet ultrasounds
& you're picking baby names and nursery colors. But I'm not, so lets move on!
Today I discovered that after the age of 35,
you get a bonus whilst your legs be in the stirrups- a rectal exam. Lovely surprise.
(Should I be discussing this?)
What else is new? I bought a bag of Spicy Thai chips again, mainly because I went to the doctor without eating breakfast, and when I left it was lunchtime & I had to buy dog food. So of course, being in the same store I drifted past the organic section and found myself there with them. Also, I discovered they are not selling Newman Own Hermits anymore, which I love.
It's raining, which I also love.
I have to say starting off my blog with Gynos and rectal exams, which I don't care for,
can be made better by thinking of things I do love.
Like Linden tea. (My mother and I used to pick the flowers from the Linden trees in front of the Oak Park Library after it closed, and she'd dry them in the closet and make us tea). It makes me want to plant a Linden now.
Marc Jacobs hair mist.
Vintage Roses. Fresh mangoes. Used bookstores. Pot luck dinners.
And my family, one of which just pulled in the drive with some California rolls :)
& doesn't everyone so look forward to these.
Waiting room of extremely clean yet full bladdered women there.
Okay, so if your pregnant, I'll excuse you, since you get those sweet ultrasounds
& you're picking baby names and nursery colors. But I'm not, so lets move on!
Today I discovered that after the age of 35,
you get a bonus whilst your legs be in the stirrups- a rectal exam. Lovely surprise.
(Should I be discussing this?)
What else is new? I bought a bag of Spicy Thai chips again, mainly because I went to the doctor without eating breakfast, and when I left it was lunchtime & I had to buy dog food. So of course, being in the same store I drifted past the organic section and found myself there with them. Also, I discovered they are not selling Newman Own Hermits anymore, which I love.
It's raining, which I also love.
I have to say starting off my blog with Gynos and rectal exams, which I don't care for,
can be made better by thinking of things I do love.
Like Linden tea. (My mother and I used to pick the flowers from the Linden trees in front of the Oak Park Library after it closed, and she'd dry them in the closet and make us tea). It makes me want to plant a Linden now.
Marc Jacobs hair mist.
Vintage Roses. Fresh mangoes. Used bookstores. Pot luck dinners.
And my family, one of which just pulled in the drive with some California rolls :)
Gotta go...More later! Kat
Monday, March 16, 2009
Cockroach Shoes
Hmmm.
Okay, I must prefice my blog with the fact the my computer has passed away & I've found myself writing this on my husbands work laptop. I'm mouseless and sorta confused. I debated even coming here, the soft distance keys similar to trying to type the fresh baked top of a cobbler crust. I'm a wee bit out my groove tonite.
None the less, I can't get this thing off my mind.
I found myself at the Ross store looking for $10 Teva's and what nots, and thought I'd browse the men's shoes in case there was something in my hubby's size. Upon the top rack, something I'd never seen the likes of.
White leather sneakers covered in a gold print. A gold cockroach print. Surely not, but then, in a teensy hang tag pocket, a keychain. A giant brown roach keychain. (If I were more savvy, I would google the things and add a link. I may yet). But I can't quit thinking about the shoes, man! Because if there be one pair, there's bound to be another on someones feet.
Where is the documetary on this guy? The fly on the wall camera sitting in the Ross ceiling waiting for the shoes to be sold, then follow them home. I want to see the documentary of the ensemble a person can put together with golden cockroach sneakers. Where do these shoes go; what kind of home do they sit in as the owner sleeps. What eyes see them and had to take them home? Maybe someone who has a great sense of humour. Better yet, someone who has some sort of significant roach story or connection. Maybe a boxer with some sort of,"The cockroach is the last man standing" kind of thing. Not a justification, just the story. Because there's no need for justification in fashion. Justice implies wrong or right.
If a grown man wants to wear his hair in flowing blonde Heidi braids,
or a woman wear the feathered bangs she felt so good wearing in the 70's,
it's no big deal to me. We should all be so brave to be happy.
And cockroach shoe guy, you are brave. I invent in my mind that you're happy too.
And maybe I'm crazy. I don't know. Kind of the neat thing about reading a blog, you get a glimpse into what ordinary people think when they're completely out of anything important to do. Dinners done, dishes as well, and I turned my head sideways to drain my mind of leftover residue from the past few days, and here you've found the drippings from my ears to be Cockroach shoes.
Cockroach Shoes, and I'm sorry! If you come back next again, I'll perhaps be fresher :).
My last hour of the evening, and I'm going to go curl up with Steven and some HBO series...
your kids may not think you're cool, but i do. have a sweet day~ yours truly
Okay, I must prefice my blog with the fact the my computer has passed away & I've found myself writing this on my husbands work laptop. I'm mouseless and sorta confused. I debated even coming here, the soft distance keys similar to trying to type the fresh baked top of a cobbler crust. I'm a wee bit out my groove tonite.
None the less, I can't get this thing off my mind.
I found myself at the Ross store looking for $10 Teva's and what nots, and thought I'd browse the men's shoes in case there was something in my hubby's size. Upon the top rack, something I'd never seen the likes of.
White leather sneakers covered in a gold print. A gold cockroach print. Surely not, but then, in a teensy hang tag pocket, a keychain. A giant brown roach keychain. (If I were more savvy, I would google the things and add a link. I may yet). But I can't quit thinking about the shoes, man! Because if there be one pair, there's bound to be another on someones feet.
Where is the documetary on this guy? The fly on the wall camera sitting in the Ross ceiling waiting for the shoes to be sold, then follow them home. I want to see the documentary of the ensemble a person can put together with golden cockroach sneakers. Where do these shoes go; what kind of home do they sit in as the owner sleeps. What eyes see them and had to take them home? Maybe someone who has a great sense of humour. Better yet, someone who has some sort of significant roach story or connection. Maybe a boxer with some sort of,"The cockroach is the last man standing" kind of thing. Not a justification, just the story. Because there's no need for justification in fashion. Justice implies wrong or right.
If a grown man wants to wear his hair in flowing blonde Heidi braids,
or a woman wear the feathered bangs she felt so good wearing in the 70's,
it's no big deal to me. We should all be so brave to be happy.
And cockroach shoe guy, you are brave. I invent in my mind that you're happy too.
And maybe I'm crazy. I don't know. Kind of the neat thing about reading a blog, you get a glimpse into what ordinary people think when they're completely out of anything important to do. Dinners done, dishes as well, and I turned my head sideways to drain my mind of leftover residue from the past few days, and here you've found the drippings from my ears to be Cockroach shoes.
Cockroach Shoes, and I'm sorry! If you come back next again, I'll perhaps be fresher :).
My last hour of the evening, and I'm going to go curl up with Steven and some HBO series...
your kids may not think you're cool, but i do. have a sweet day~ yours truly
Friday, March 13, 2009
The Cyclops Tooth
I am guilty of making up fantasy folklorish things to my children.
Things like, "You were born with a forked tongue, but they evened it out in the hospital. No, no, it wasn't just you, it's pretty common. Personally I like forked tongues with flickery ends, but they cut them on newborns." -The tongue circumcision story.
Where did this begin?
I think it all is pretty customary on holidays to invent folklore, or at least carry on the traditional ones. Then you have 'My Conservative In-Laws do not Trick or Treat, due to the Lord not approving of it, nor did they ever have the visit from Santa.' My husband and I decided to go the opposite direction. If there be Easter Rabbits and Tooth Fairies, what else?
No one was so giddy on President's Day as my husband jumping, joking,
"I wonder what the Dead President's are gonna bring you?"
"Maybe money..."one child giggled.
But it could be that this time I've gone a wee too far. My sweet angel of a 6 year old is missing her top two front teeth. Upon examining her little gums, I made a discovery.
"Shanna! This is going to be something very special!!! You're growing a cyclops tooth!"
(For those of you who do not know, a cyclops tooth is a single tooth that takes the space of two front teeth...yes, i know, i am insane. but let's keep going.)
"It is? Does anyone else have one?"
"I don't know, I think they are really rare! You will probably be very famous with this tooth..."
"I will? But I want to be a green earth scientist."
"Yes, and this will be awesome for your science show! At the end you can smile really big and they can animate it a little to make it sparkle. This is going to be incredible!" So she's running around the house saying, "I'm going to have a cyclops tooth! Woo HOO!"
Yesterday, my mother comes over. I recorded a French movie (Nathalie- thank goodness the girls can't understand it, the language is a bit 'adult'- although Emmanuelle Beart is so gorgeous in the movie, I watch most of it wondering if she's had work done. Good doctor there, for sure.)
"Gram Gram! I'm going to have a new tooth! A cyclops tooth!"
"What?" Shanna tells her of the impending arrival. "That's just a story, Shanna! It's not true! Don't you know..." and my mother is laughing. Shanna's too excited for me to go back now, but the edge of one tooth is nearing its breakthrough, ending the cyclops tooth fable for us. I'm terrible, I know.
And I think this may have to be the last of the fairy tales. maybe.
Things like, "You were born with a forked tongue, but they evened it out in the hospital. No, no, it wasn't just you, it's pretty common. Personally I like forked tongues with flickery ends, but they cut them on newborns." -The tongue circumcision story.
Where did this begin?
I think it all is pretty customary on holidays to invent folklore, or at least carry on the traditional ones. Then you have 'My Conservative In-Laws do not Trick or Treat, due to the Lord not approving of it, nor did they ever have the visit from Santa.' My husband and I decided to go the opposite direction. If there be Easter Rabbits and Tooth Fairies, what else?
No one was so giddy on President's Day as my husband jumping, joking,
"I wonder what the Dead President's are gonna bring you?"
"Maybe money..."one child giggled.
But it could be that this time I've gone a wee too far. My sweet angel of a 6 year old is missing her top two front teeth. Upon examining her little gums, I made a discovery.
"Shanna! This is going to be something very special!!! You're growing a cyclops tooth!"
(For those of you who do not know, a cyclops tooth is a single tooth that takes the space of two front teeth...yes, i know, i am insane. but let's keep going.)
"It is? Does anyone else have one?"
"I don't know, I think they are really rare! You will probably be very famous with this tooth..."
"I will? But I want to be a green earth scientist."
"Yes, and this will be awesome for your science show! At the end you can smile really big and they can animate it a little to make it sparkle. This is going to be incredible!" So she's running around the house saying, "I'm going to have a cyclops tooth! Woo HOO!"
Yesterday, my mother comes over. I recorded a French movie (Nathalie- thank goodness the girls can't understand it, the language is a bit 'adult'- although Emmanuelle Beart is so gorgeous in the movie, I watch most of it wondering if she's had work done. Good doctor there, for sure.)
"Gram Gram! I'm going to have a new tooth! A cyclops tooth!"
"What?" Shanna tells her of the impending arrival. "That's just a story, Shanna! It's not true! Don't you know..." and my mother is laughing. Shanna's too excited for me to go back now, but the edge of one tooth is nearing its breakthrough, ending the cyclops tooth fable for us. I'm terrible, I know.
And I think this may have to be the last of the fairy tales. maybe.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
I'm so ridiculous, there's no point in even attempting anything other than that. I've always known :).
Remember the early 90's when everyone was ranting over Tori Amos? I didn't get it & I don't know that I was even cool enough to fake that I thought cool stuff was cool. Umm,
at that point probably still listening to my mom's Kenny Rogers Gambler album.
(Not that I hate Tori Amos; I did like that weird hand video with the skateboard... although I don't remember the song that went with it. I just don't know much of her. Or perhaps not swayed for or against. Like lawn. I like the lawn but I cannot say I'm for or against lawn.)
I've gotten so accustomed to no one reading my blog that the idea that someone could come along and defend Tori Amos is far reaching.
Is anyone out there? :P
The Mooniest Moon & Other Things I Noticed
Last night was the full moon.
Warm bright Mooniest Moon. And looking at it, I noticed the clouds racing past, over and out, as though the moon were playing peekaboo. There are times when I feel I'm riding this life in a little night boat, and some things that may matter one day, like remodeling a kitchen, can seem trivial or momentary. As though time were drifting my boat too fast round each curve to take it in or want for a thing. Are the clouds racing, or is it me? I am a watcher.
Naomi informed me,"Tomarrow will be the waxing moon." I don't know what a waxing moon is, but I'm impressed with her moon knowledge. Were there no waxing moon, I'd be impressed by her creativity to invent one.
All fall to bed, and I lay on the sofa watching cheesy television for a few extra minutes. The baby runs down the stairs in her pull up and tank, two tore out coloring pages in hand.
"I colored these for you," she tells me. Why aren't you in bed? I ask. She climbs into my lap on the sofa, her head tucked in my armpit falling out like a light. I want to wash my makeup off. The show is over, and all electronic devices off. I look at the little baby hands and I cannot move.
Because I know one day I'll blink my eyes and there'll be no more coloring pages or little diaper butts. They'll be other things, but maybe not so precious as this.
I had to wake her and get her up the stairs, then turn the lights out behind myself. I climbed into bed and looked out the windows. The clouds had stopped, cotton balls dyed blue. Round puffy floaty things. Stopped. Had they stopped, or had my night boat slowed? Tiny frogs sing with loud little gullets.
You can't mourn the loss of a thing you didn't know you had.
Some folk never even knew they had yesterday, though they did, in fact, have it.
The boat went and they forgot to pay attention.
I suppose if you stumble here, maybe you'll see the waxing moon tonite.
I have to go clean. Not my TiVo box :).
Cleaning you're TiVo is like eating a piece of cheese and saying you cleaned the refrigerator.
I'm thinking of all my friends back in Chicago with
their Facebooked Saint Patricks Day party photos.
Strange how I always think of them when I think of friends. They seem the real people.
Not that Georgia doesn't have real people. They definitely seem real in the check out line at the store when I have to wait behind them. It's just that these people are not like me.
Some days it seems so ladder like. What rung am I on in the order of condescension today. Because no matter how slighted I may feel, there'll be a place where mentally I slight another, making me no better. Perfect hair Lily Pulitzer capri wearing mom may think she be on a higher rung, and I may find myself thinking I'm on that higher place when I see someone wearing a ragged rebel flag scarf on their head (yesterday at lunch) or when I'm in the car rider line and a car in front of me throws a cigarette butt out the window before the teachers load their child. (My pet peeve.) And of course, as always, my thought bring me back to the beginning of the loop, as everything is a loop, and there are, in the end, no rungs, no ladder. Just the greater than alligator eating the smaller number, and we are all alligators... (greater than or less than, depending on the day).
Warm bright Mooniest Moon. And looking at it, I noticed the clouds racing past, over and out, as though the moon were playing peekaboo. There are times when I feel I'm riding this life in a little night boat, and some things that may matter one day, like remodeling a kitchen, can seem trivial or momentary. As though time were drifting my boat too fast round each curve to take it in or want for a thing. Are the clouds racing, or is it me? I am a watcher.
Naomi informed me,"Tomarrow will be the waxing moon." I don't know what a waxing moon is, but I'm impressed with her moon knowledge. Were there no waxing moon, I'd be impressed by her creativity to invent one.
All fall to bed, and I lay on the sofa watching cheesy television for a few extra minutes. The baby runs down the stairs in her pull up and tank, two tore out coloring pages in hand.
"I colored these for you," she tells me. Why aren't you in bed? I ask. She climbs into my lap on the sofa, her head tucked in my armpit falling out like a light. I want to wash my makeup off. The show is over, and all electronic devices off. I look at the little baby hands and I cannot move.
Because I know one day I'll blink my eyes and there'll be no more coloring pages or little diaper butts. They'll be other things, but maybe not so precious as this.
I had to wake her and get her up the stairs, then turn the lights out behind myself. I climbed into bed and looked out the windows. The clouds had stopped, cotton balls dyed blue. Round puffy floaty things. Stopped. Had they stopped, or had my night boat slowed? Tiny frogs sing with loud little gullets.
You can't mourn the loss of a thing you didn't know you had.
Some folk never even knew they had yesterday, though they did, in fact, have it.
The boat went and they forgot to pay attention.
I suppose if you stumble here, maybe you'll see the waxing moon tonite.
I have to go clean. Not my TiVo box :).
Cleaning you're TiVo is like eating a piece of cheese and saying you cleaned the refrigerator.
I'm thinking of all my friends back in Chicago with
their Facebooked Saint Patricks Day party photos.
Strange how I always think of them when I think of friends. They seem the real people.
Not that Georgia doesn't have real people. They definitely seem real in the check out line at the store when I have to wait behind them. It's just that these people are not like me.
Some days it seems so ladder like. What rung am I on in the order of condescension today. Because no matter how slighted I may feel, there'll be a place where mentally I slight another, making me no better. Perfect hair Lily Pulitzer capri wearing mom may think she be on a higher rung, and I may find myself thinking I'm on that higher place when I see someone wearing a ragged rebel flag scarf on their head (yesterday at lunch) or when I'm in the car rider line and a car in front of me throws a cigarette butt out the window before the teachers load their child. (My pet peeve.) And of course, as always, my thought bring me back to the beginning of the loop, as everything is a loop, and there are, in the end, no rungs, no ladder. Just the greater than alligator eating the smaller number, and we are all alligators... (greater than or less than, depending on the day).
Let us not be hungry ones.
much love, yours truly :P
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