Day 7 - Coincidence? I Think Not!!

 My paranoid delusion: The Little Yellow People in my head are watching me. Shhh!! They're listening Right now!!

I had a long day yesterday and when I got home it was late and I was tired. My confession: I opted for a couple hours of brainless TV watching (it was actually a lot more of staring blankly in the general direction of the television while absently sipping wine than it was actually watching anything.) instead of completing Day 7 of the Chopra Meditation Challenge.

My big fat lie: I fooled myself into believing that I might wake up early this morning and complete it before work and then continue with Day 8 this evening without missing a beat. I am NOT a morning person and I will avoid getting out of bed early at all costs.

The Little Yellow People get even: The Minute Man who usually tips over and falls asleep on the couch while watching TV when he gets home in the wee hours of the morning actually came to bed last night!! He snores. He snores very LOUDLY. At 4:30 this morning I throw an elbow in his general direction and he rolls over and stops snoring until 5:30 when he rolls back over and returns to snorting and snoring loudly directly into my ear. I tried tickling him. That usually works. He just grunted and snored louder. I tried picking up his hand and dropping it on his face. Porky noises and then more relentless snoring. Then I pull the ultimate dirty trick and I cuddle with him. This one usually works, but it requires more effort on my part so I use it as a last resort. He stopped snoring for a minute and then started back up buzzing loudly like a lawn mower through a hot summer day.

I realize there is no hope and that I am wide awake now anyways so why not get up early? WHAT? So I actually find myself getting out of bed early and resign to my false commitment to completing the Day 7 Chopra Meditation Challenge.

To my complete and utter surprise when I opened the audio clip on my computer I found the title: Morning Meditation Practice. Coincidence? I think not!

Shhh! You hear that? They're laughing at me....

Clean Up in Aisle 4

I started this blog out intending to focus on my inability to throw out food that has expired. However, upon further consideration I decided I would rewind the scene a little to express a very important point and that is my relationship with food usually starts to sour immediately.

So before we get to the spoiling of food we should first review the destroying of food. (I’m working on building sympathy for the food that survives me long enough to actually kill itself.)  

I recently took a trip to the supermarket for “a few items” and I opted not to grab one of those handy little baskets to put my items in - after all it was only “a few items.” This was my first mistake.

My second mistake was getting distracted in the wine section. With hands that were already multi-tasking and armpits crammed full of miscellaneous items, I decided to stuff the wine in my coat pocket. That was my third mistake.

My fourth mistake was the salsa. I would have made it if I hadn’t stopped for the salsa. It was movie night with hubby and I thought nachos would make a tasty snack. However, you can’t have salsa without sour cream, so I teetered with unbalanced arms over to the dairy section. Just short of using my teeth, I managed to grab the sour cream.

Finally satisfied, I began to shuffle back toward the check out. I made my fifth mistake when I started to doubt myself. Did I get the canned cat food? Or did I put that down when I selected the wine? I started to twist and crane my neck to see if I had any cat food hidden under my arm pits. I started to feel a slight shift of my carefully balanced items and that’s when I realized I was in trouble.

In order to reposition back to correct balance, I had to put the sour cream between my thighs for a second. Okay, and that’s when I dropped the jar of salsa. It shattered on the tile floor and all over my knitted booties. %^$@!^$#&

I must have clenched my knees when bracing for the impact, because the sour cream popped open between my thighs!! @#^%@^ !!! Now I’m pissed. I spread my legs and let the cream drop (please folks this is a G rated show!!)

The cream was so cold!! I began to waddle around trying to stop it from soaking through my pants. I looked around to see if anybody else has noticed my display of human error. God Bless America!! I had no witnesses!! At this point I still had a glimmer of hope that I could dash to the register with my remaining items and escape the store with only moderate embarrassment. I started to walk quickly away from the Aisle 4 disaster. Mistake number….? I dunno. I lost count.

I forgot about the wine. Half way down the aisle, it slips from my pocket and explodes on the tile floor a short distance away from the salsa and sour cream. Mother @$!%*^%*^@#% !!! Not the ^%(&@^)$# wine!!

I took quick inventory of the situation. Aisle 4 remained empty. I still had the TP, the mayo, the milk, the six cans of soup and the cat food. Oh look! I didn’t forget it after all!!!

Now let’s pause the story right here folks: WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE DONE?

A)    Keeping in mind – nobody can implement you in the crime; you go back for a carriage and replace the lost goods, stopping to tell a clerk along the way that some bozo trashed Aisle 4.

B)     Go back for the wine!! Screw the nachos!! You’ve got your wine, hubby can fend for himself!! Proceed to the check out, stopping for nobody or nothing in between.

C)    Go back for a basket, circle back through Aisle 4, slip and “accidentally” fall on the spilled goods and sue the supermarket?

D)    Dump your remaining items and flee the store immediately before you hurt somebody?

E)     Other   

I went for option B. Hey, I never claimed to be perfect!

Day 6 - Let the Chanting Begin!!

Day 6 of the Chopra Meditation Challenge introduced the mantra, which means mind vehicle. I really wish they had not shared the meaning of the word mantra because I found the image of little yellow people driving wind up cars through the middle of my meditation quite distracting.

I was very tired.

However, I have noticed that I feel far more compassionate and have a deep need to help humanity. The obvious question: How can a Nobody like me help humanity?

Humana-humana-humana…. Nope I got nothing! Oh well, maybe the answer will come in Day 7’s meditation.

In other news: Yesterday my man gave me an i-phone!! (My first one!!) Also, we took a serious step in our relationship by combining our phone plans. Oh yeah, he’s definitely serious about this marriage!! You know when your man wants to combine phone plans he’s not planning on going anywhere for a while!!

Is it strange that I fear our marriage might fall off the brick wall and shatter into a hundred pieces like a broken Humpty Dumpty doll? Does everyone feel this way during their first year of marriage? Or perhaps I just need to hitch a ride in one of the wind up mind vehicles and drive on to a more secure me?

Day 5 - Breaking All the Rules!

Official Disclaimer: I've been drinking.

I'm about to break one of my personal rules here. No drinking and interneting.... BAD combo!! But I'm committed. Or maybe I should just BE committed. It's not revalent. I'm blogging anyways!!

SO... quickly because I'm really not sure how interesting this is, but I would like to report what I have learned in the Day 4 Chopra Meditation Challenge - and again - I seem to be breaking another rule - you are NOT supposed to be judging your ability to meditate. Rather, you should just accept your experience for what it is - or for what it isn't without keeping notes. Ba!ha!ha! I'm a badass rebel at heart what can I say??

My notes: I experienced another vision. This time I got a sensation that I wasn't alone. AND I saw a flickering vision of a beautiful garden. That's it. I told you it was going to be quick.

I guess I should feel happy that the visions I've had  thus far have not been of men wearing hockey masks and chasing me with sharp objects.

Do I feel more peaceful? More enlightened? Not really.

However, I made a potatoe salad the other night that was just SuPErb!!

Now I will leave you with a quote from one of my Favorite writers:

"I have the heart of a boy... I keep it in a jar on my desk." - Stephen King.

With Glory Comes Guts

Oh wowie zowie! This is my first award and I'm all giddy and stuff. I think... yup I'm blushing!! Okay, so now I get to test the waters of the OFFICIAL RULES. I think I have to roast someone or something like that...

This award was given to me by Nikki at http://www.mycyberhouserules.com/ (I'm so new here I don't even know how to do links correctly - what a nerd!) Anyway Nikki has an amazingly amusing blog that is guaranteed to make you smile every time. I think it should have one of those satisfaction guaranteed stamps... Now that would be cool! And Nikki herself, or The Other White Meat, as I sometimes lovingly refer to her in my head, is definitely somebody you'll be proud to have in your corner. I'm pretty sure she throws down with the eldery but cannot blog about it in detail for legal reasons. But let's just say I'd feel safe in a public shower with her... um... not like that... So go say hello and make an awesome new friend!!

Now I have to give the award to some unsuspecting soul(s)....

1. Coffeypot the loveable redneck that always makes me laugh with his jokes at  http://johnjudyc.blogspot.com/
2. Ok in UK whose quirkie tales of adapting in a foriegn land make me grin ear to ear at http://mollieisokinuk.blogspot.com/

Alright now the hard part. I gotta give away seven things about myself that nobody here knows:




I take REALLY long tubbies with bubbles and sometimes I play with Girl Child's Mermaid Barbie when I'm in there.



I really like bacon - a lot. I used to eat it raw in my teen years. It's amazing I lived to tell the story.

I painted this mermaid on the bathroom wall in my last apartment.



I'm pretty lonely despite having a family and wonderful friends.




I love scary movies. The scarier the better!



I used to be a Dead Head. I went to the one of their last concerts in Highgate VT right before Jerry died.

I have a black cat named Magic that my best friend gave me on Halloween.

Yup. That WAS hard.

Passing Thoughts - Day 3

I feel like Day 3 of the Mediation Challenge went well. The lesson taught that we should be aware of of thoughts and not to (paraphrasing again) crush them like little bugs. The trick you see, is not to linger on the thoughts. Just say hello and get back to your breathing. Not paraphrasing - "let your thoughts pass through like moving clouds..."

This didn't really prove to be a problem for me yesterday because my head was quite empty as it usually is. So there I was - no thoughts, but I started having a vision. My vision was of myself floating through the clouds. Now the thoughts started: Does a vision count as a thought?? If so, was I merely a passing thought in the mind of the universe?? Ooops, thinking too many thoughts.

So I decided to just go with it and there I was floating around in the sky somewhere not trying to not think about it. And that was it. I guess I did good??

Since I've started meditating, I've noticed a few physical changes: One, I'm not hungry very often. In fact, I'm losing weight! I'm only two pounds away from 124 (the number hubby says is my "ideal weight" - yeah he says stupid things sometimes but what guy doesn't?) Two: My feet have started to exfoliate themselves!! (I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried folks!) I'll spare you the details, but seriously the soles of my feet are peeling and that's just not normal!!

Meditation Challenge - Day 2

I'm beginning to see why they call it a challenge. Yesterday, I got home from work and the Minute Man was actually home!!! (This is a rare occurrence.) We loafed around on the sofa and I listened to him rant about the challenges he faces in his new position as the manager of a night club... and I listened, and I listened. I threw in the occasional "mmm-Hmm" or "Oh! Really?" or "Uh-huh" all while staring at the clock wondering if I was going to get in some quiet time for meditation before Girl Child got home from school.

He mentioned that he was going to go to the gym... but yet he kept talking!! Oh, I know it sounds bad - especially when I complain that we don't spend enough time together - but I really just wanted him to leave so I could get to completing Day 2 of the Chopra Meditation Challenge. I tried being patient. I tried looking busy. I tried feigning sleep, but he just kept on talking!!! Finally, I snapped.

I grabbed him by the ears and stared into his big blue eyeballs and said, "You need to leave now."

I think he was a little surprised.

"WHAT!?" he said as if he just got slapped in the face.

"I've been waiting for you to go to the gym so I can complete Day 2 of the Chopra Meditation Challenge," I explained.

He doesn't get this stuff at all. So I got another....

"WHAT!?"

He didn't even know that I had decided to do this, so I guess I can understand his initial confusion.

So I patiently explained who Deepak Chopra was and then I patiently explained what meditation was and then he laughed and agreed to leave so I could have mumbo jumbo time.

Finally!

Now that WAS a challenge.

Day 2 was an attempt at trying to teach me how to breathe. Huh? I don't think I did it exactly right because I found myself getting light headed half way through the meditation. However, I was quite "aware" of my breathing so I guess that's a good thing.

What I learned: Most people inhale and exhale between 6 and 10 times in one minute. I inhale and exhale 11 times in one minute. Fascinating.

After the meditation I went to pick Girl Child up from school and I ended up saying something I think could either be really bad or really good, but I'm not quite sure which. I'm feeling a little bit guilty about it, so I think it might be bad.

Girl Child was super cranky when I picked her up and I could tell she was obviously very tired. One of her friends left without giving her a hug and that sent her into tears. I tried explaining that she could get her good-bye hug in the morning but that was clearly NOT an acceptable answer because then I got the ever painful answer of: "I just miss my REAL mommy!!"

And that's when I said the thing which may or may not be a good thing which may or may not have bad consequences.

I asked her if she knew what the difference between her real mommy and me was and she said she didn't know so I told her:


"You grew in your real mommy's tummy, but you grew in my heart."

She stopped crying and a moment later she asked, "So what's the difference?"

"There is no difference," I said. "We both love you very much."

Now my intentions were good, but the more I thought about what I said the more I realized this has true potential to turn into something bad because if she repeats that to her REAL mommy there's going to be REAL trouble.

Maybe Day 3 will teach me how to keep my mouth shut. 

18 Below from the Seacoast of Maine

The month of January has been one snow storm after another here in the seacoast of Maine. In the last two and a half weeks we've gotten over 30 inches of snow! Yesterday and today the temperature has been hovering right around zero. Although with the windchill factor it feels like 18 below. I have to admit I'm starting to go a little numb. However, I realize there are some of you out there that may appreciate a little snow, so I'm bringing it to you live through the Internet.

This is the view from my place of work. Snow on ocean rocks is rare for those of you that wouldn't know.

It's too small to see but this is sign indicates "CAUTION - Drop in Elevation" 

I find it amusing because it's a bit of an understatement.

More accurately it should read:

"Step over this line and you will plunge 20 feet into the icy sea below."

And this is my abominable snow family!!

In other News: 

I decided to follow the 21 days of mediation Challenge from the Chopra Center. My first day of mediation was yesterday. It wasn't as hard as I thought it would be - mostly because I had a misconception that meditating meant clearing your mind of everything. Not true!! More accurately it means being aware of your present surroundings without thinking of anything else. If you do think of something else by accident it's not like you fail you just have to "acknowledge the thought and let it pass" then come right back to the present. 

The only slight difficulty I had was finding only one "intention" (AKA: goal) I guess what I want most is to feel balanced. I'm still struggling learning how to be a mommy and a wifey while still finding time to just be me. So I just asked for balance. I hope that wasn't too vague. I would also really like to publish a book, but I know I won't be able to do that until I can get balanced, so first thing is first I guess. 

P.S. For those of you following my blog, I've decided that this is not a place to hold back who you really are. I'm going to stop setting boundaries for myself - and I'm sure some people will be offended in the process but oh well I gotta be me. So without further delay: #10 - When the new maintenance men here fall victim to my overwhelming sexuality and suggest we sleep together I tell them to go to room 230 and get naked and wait for me. Then I tell Mr. Big that there's a loose screw in 230 that needs his immediate attention. This has only worked twice so far, but I'm hopeful that I will execute the plan successfully a few more times before an official warning is posted in the handbook: DO NOT TRY TO HAVE SEX WITH THE HOUSEKEEPING MANAGER. SHE WILL SCREW YOU!!

Hitting Mr. Dog with a Stick....

This post is for a new friend of mine who has fallen victim to self loathing, something I think we can ALL relate to. It's a story I like to tell every once in a while when it applies to the situation.

Years, and years ago, in a different life time I was at a kids birthday party. It was a warm spring day and the adults had strung up a donkey pinata. All the kids lined up and took turns whacking the suspended object with a big stick.

Side bar: The idea seems a little barbaric to me. However I guess it doesn't seem that bad considering less than a hundred years ago a game called Hot Cockles existed where children would take turns beating another child that was blind folded until the blinded child could correctly guess the name of the of their assailant. 

I watched from the porch as the youngest girl, Molly, was blind folded and spun. Six year old Molly stumbled out beneath the pinata on unsure feet struggling to regain her balance. Steadiness found Molly's feet and she took her first blind swing at the pinata. Her aim was painfully off target. One of the adults steered her a little closer. She swung again with a litle more confidence and knicked the donkey's foot. A smile formed and Molly geared up for her last chance to win the prize.

Just as she put her mighty swing into motion Mr. Dog came bounding into the yard ready to play. The end of Molly's stick made swift contact with Mr. Dog's nose and the animal let loose a pitiful yelp of pain.

Moly ripped the blindfold off just in time to see Mr. Dog run whimpering into the woods. The look on her face was pure horror. Big fat tears welled up in her eyes and she began to cry.

I watched as her parents tried to comfort her. Then her uncle tried. Then a few of the other kids patted her on the shoulder as she balled. Molly could not forgive herself for what she had done. Eventually Molly's turmoil was forgotten and the game continued.

She came over and sat down beside me on the porch and hung her head and cried.

"Everybody knows it was an accident," I told her.

"The dog doesn't know," she said.

"Yes, he does." I assured her.

"It doesn't matter," she wailed. "I'm a bad person for what I did!!"

Then I found myself uttering these words of wisdom:

"A bad person doesn't feel bad about hurting others. A bad person wouldn't be here crying about hitting that dog even if it was an accident. A bad person just wouldn't care. Do you feel bad about hurting Mr.Dog?"

She stopped crying and nodded through her tears.

"The reason you feel bad right now is because you're a good person. God gave you a big heart and I think you should feel good that you feel bad right now because some people wouldn't even care."

My words hit home. She wiped the tears from her face and gave me a hug. Together we went to go find Mr. Dog and gave him a formal apology... and a doggie biscuit!!

My Ruby Slippers

Given the recent comments regarding my bright red wedding shoes, I was inspired to tell their story.

I tried going traditional, I really did folks. I looked for white shoes and I searched store after store but just couldn't find the right fit - so to speak. See, I wanted a small simple wedding. The Minute Man was looking for something a little more traditional because his family is a far more formal than mine. (Wow! That was a really nice way of saying it! Sometimes I impress myself... )

I knew getting the right shoe wasn't going to be easy because I have freakishly ugly feet. I've actually had more than one person  look at my feet for the first time and say, "Oh my goodness! What happened to your foot?" And then I of course have to initiate the dreaded moment of awkwardness when I show them the other foot that looks just like the first one they spotted and tell them, "Nothing happened, I just have really ugly feet." It's like asking a fat girl when she's expecting, you just don't make that mistake more than once.

So finding the right shoe to make my deplorably ugly feet seem less freakish wasn't going to be easy.

Then on a cold and rainy day in a Target department store I saw these shoes like a bright red candy apple seducing me from their perch on the top shelf. I knew the minute I stroked their shining red exterior that I had found my ruby slippers. I remember thinking exactly that - ruby slippers!! And you know what? The more I thought about it, the more the shoe fit.

I had often told people that I sometimes felt like Dorothy when she gets swept up in a tornado and lands in Oz because the Minute Man totally swept me off my feet and brought me to a land of well.... The Lollipop Guild. All the sudden, I was in strange territory surrounded by.... munchkins!! And one munchkin in particular enchanted me.

I tried them on and the sound of joyful singing filled my ears....

We represent the Lollipop Guild
The Lollipop Guild, the Lollipop Guild
And in the name of Lollipop Guild
We welcome you to Munchkin Land!



Oh yes! I was on the yellow brick road straight to the cash register!!

I loved the shoes and an idea so wicked and so completely outrageous began to form in my head. These weren't just my ruby slippers!!! They were my wedding shoes!!! I wasn't in Kansas anymore!! It felt so wrong, but oh so right!!

Suddenly I felt a lot more comfortable with the big formal wedding because I realized no matter how much my environment changes I'm still always going to find a way to just be me - freakishly deplorable feet and all!!

Am I Missing Something???

Okay so remember when I asked if anyone ever felt like the universe was trying to send them a message??? That's okay. I don't even remember half the stuff I write. I certainly don't expect all of you to!

Anyways, it hasn't stopped!! If anything the message keeps hitting me in the face over and over like a Tyson knock out!! Except now I'm wondering if its really getting through... because why would be keep being delivered like spam on a hotmail account over and over again??

So the message, which may or may not be in its entirety: Live in the Moment

Now let's recount the messages:

1) My sister tells me to enjoy Girl Child's childhood while its here




2) I start reading Deepak Chopra whose book is about accepting the present



3) Last night I turn on the TV (which I rarely do) to a documentary about Buddism and its teachings: live in the moment...



4) I receive an email from my guru (two actually) with a simple message quoting Gandhi: Its better to have a heart without words than words without heart - which relates directly to my recent decision to stop writing for the paper, which relates directly to living in the moment... (okay maybe I'm reaching here???) But she knew nothing of my decision to stop writing for the newspaper. .... ...



5) Then, Guru sends me an email to sign of for the Chopra 21 days of mediation challenge which again themes living in the moment!!



So I ask you, am I reading too much into this?

Wall of Opposition

I have several topics running through my head tonight, all chomping at the bit for release, but I'm going to have to surrend the prize to my Wall of Rejection tonight.

First of all, I would like to start off by saying I finally got paid for that newspaper article I wrote back in July!! Yay Me! And I must confess, although part of me will miss writing for the paper I strongly feel that I've made a good decision in leaving.

I get FAR more enjoyment out of this blog than I ever did working for the paper... well... for the most part I guess that's true. I had a few shining moments there in my career as a freelancer but overall it blew chunks.

Also, in my recent readings of Chopra's book on acheiving success I found something that really made me stop and think. The book talked about the reasons that motivate your decisions. Here it said if you're motivated by anything other than love you will (okay I'm going to paraphrase here a little) suck the life force out of your success and meet a wall of opposition.

So I started thinking.....

Hmmm.

What motivated me to write for the paper for as long as I did? The answer I got was an ugly one. I did it to fulfill a need of self importance. Basically I was a glory whore. Whenever meeting with new people that asked me what I did for a living I told them that I was a freelancer before I told them that I managed a housekeeping department. Glory whore! But I started writing for the paper because I thought it would help me acheive my goals at becoming a professional writer. And I guess it did, but not in the way that I wanted.

Writing for the paper did give me the confidence I needed  to pursue my ambitions of publishing a book. I wrote a children's book about a little girl that meets a mermaid when she learns to swim. I thought it was a pretty good book. I mean, I was proud of it and stuff. So I compiled a list of publishers I thought would be interested in that type of book and I started sending out the manuscript.

Before long, my mailbox was filling up with rejection letters, which for some reason I felt compelled to hang on my bedroom wall... yes folks. It was my wall of opposition! But the more letters I got the more determined I became. It was a downward spiral actually.

Then I got one letter, one letter that was Different than all the others!! It said my idea was pretty good!!! Yay Me!! But my grammar sucked. Boo! Although this guy actually took the time to edit it for me!!! YAY! That meant like Everything to me and I was So filled with joy and happiness and self gratitude and... and...

wow this is really depressing the crap out of me right now. I totally should have blogged about my cold medicine induced dreams...

okay... but the show must go on!

And... and I'm not going to sugar coat it for you either folks... I gave up. There I said it. I gave up.

No! Worse!!! I decided to SETTLE!! Oh no, it's true. I settled for writing for the paper. Why? Because I lost sight of my motives. I was no longer motivated by the sheer love of writing. I was motived by the need to feel important.

Oh! Well, there you have it! There it is!!

So I guess that's why finding this sight has been such a GOOD thing for me, because I'm no longer writing for the glory, I'm writing because that's what I love to do.

Thanks for bearing with me. This was truly the most painful blog I have written yet, but I think I just figured out something really important - and I hope it was a little less painful to read than it was to write.

I'm Fond of Gay Men!

Not to be confused with I fondle gay men, because that would just be wrong! I work with a gay man, a VERY gay man. I say very gay because I do believe there are different levels of gay. He is gay to the fullest extend possible... okay maybe not the fullest extend but he is quite gay. Anyways, I absolutely adore him! So much so that I have compiled a list of things I like about him, and not to stereotype, but some of these things can be applied to gay men in general.

1) I love they way he says paper and sexy. If I could get him to say "sexy paper" I would grin ear to ear.
2) I love the way his eyes light up when I say choo-choo-train.
3) I love how he talks about baby birds with the affection of a six year old.
4) I love that we can check out a straight man's ass and know that only one of us stands a chance.
5) I love that when he tells me my butt looks cute it's not creepy.
6) I love his little lunch box collection of different animated cartoons.
7) I love the way he delicately pushes his glasses up his nose when he laughs.
8) I love that he has manners better than my own.
9) I love that he's not afraid to use words like pretty in a way that doesn't mean extremely.

I think I'll stop at nine seeing my last list stopped at nine too. It's a small attempt at being consistent.


 

Accept the Present

Ever feel like the universe is sending you a personal message?

I started to write a blog last night about some words of wisdom my dear sis imparted upon  me a few weeks ago, but I got distracted - happens to the best of us! Then, while reading Deepak Chopra in the tubby tonight I found myself receiving the same message just in different words. Accept the Present. I feel like... okay don't laugh its going to sound corny.... I feel like I've made a spiritual break through. There I said it.

So shortly after the holidays I found myself venting to my sister about how our house got turned into a Princess Museum over the holidays. My living room is still over run with barbies and crafts and other various instructments of play. To me, it all still seems so new.. and well overwhelming at times. Girl Child is chomping at the bit to play with all her new toys and with no other siblings her only other playmate is me. (The Minute Man is no longer allowed to play barbies with her after that near manajatwa episode with Ken) And quite frankly I don't wanna play barbies. The frigging shoes are so frigging hard to get on and don't even get me started on their frigging hair and all their frigging accessories!! (Sometimes I run short in the patience department.)

So coming back now from that little rant I was venting to my dear wise older sister and she told me, "Enjoy it while you can. It's over before you know it. Just go play with her while you can."

I thought about what she said. There was a truth in it that rang soundly in my heart. I fear the day Girl Child will grow up into a raging teenager, throw a high heel at my head and tell me that she hates my guts and I'm not her REAL mother. Right now, she adores me. Right now, she wants to be just like me. Right now, she wants to whisper childhood secrets in my ear. Right now, she wants to help me in the kitchen. Right now, she wants me to brush her hair. Right now, she wants to have a tea party with me. Is it overwhelming sometimes? Yes. But right now, there's a little girl that needs me.

So last night when I was giving her a bath, I played with her Mermaid Barbie. We washed Mermaid Barbie's hair and we sang "Mermaid Barbie Troll Songs" and we took turns telling each other outrageous stories. I listened patiently to her very antimated and very looooong rendition of the Three Little Bears and I didn't rush her through it and I just listened very patiently and I realized I am her REAL mommy. That child is just as much mine as she could possibily be. Only MY child would give a detailed description of the feathers in Mama Bears bed pillows. Only MY child would make animated faces as she spit the too cold porridge with ten and a half ice cubes that made it only one degree warm into the trash. Only MY child would give Papa Bear big muscles that ripped his green overalls with one gold button missing. She is a story teller just like me. She is my daughter. And Right Now, I'm being the best REAL mommy I know how to be because I'm learning that: The present is a gift that needs to be accepted.  

9 Things I Do to Amuse Myself...

1. At lunch time I sit in my car with sunglasses on and point a hair dryer at passing cars to see if they slow down.
2. On all my check stubs I write "for marijuana" on the memo line.
3. I skip down the street rather than walk.
4. I order a diet water whenever I go out to eat with a serious face.
5. I sing along at the Opera
6. When I get money out of the ATM I scream "I won! I won!"
7. When leaving the zoo I always run to the parking lot yelling "Run for your life! They're Loose!"
8. I place a box of condoms in an old lady's shopping cart when she's not looking and follow her to the check out line to see her reaction. 
9. I wear dark sunglasses and bring a cane to the movie theater and tell people I'm there for the special effects

Samara's Progress

Nobody from my real life gets a real name here because I talk about a lot of very personal stuff. My suicidal friend got pegged with the name Samara because when she goes into her seizures she looks like the girl that crawled out of the well in the movie The Ring - her name was Samara.

Samara had a very restful stay in the hospital where two uniformed men kept a watchful eye on her for three days until the drugs they believed were responsible for her suicide attempts were completely flushed from her system.

They put her on a whole new colorful set of pills to control the seizures but they don't seem to be working very well as she has them every day now. I'm so worried about her because her family has been... less than supportive let's say.

She stopped being angry with me for kicking her door down and saving her life that night and she even has forgiven me for having her dragged away kicking and screaming to the hospital that following day when she tried once again to burn her house down with her and her dog inside.

The problem: I'm not entirely convinced her suicide attempts were a reaction to the medication she was taking.

The other problem: She told me today that her doctor wanted her back in the hospital because he believes she may have suffered a small stroke during one of her more recent seizures. She hasn't told her husband because he keeps threatening to leave her if she runs up any more medical expenses. I believe there may be some merit to the stroke theory because she hasn't been acting herself lately.

The final problem: I think I'm in over my head on this one.

Looks like we're up the river without a paddle this time Samara....

Poop in the Pool

With Girl Child content in front of the television and the Minute Man fast asleep on the couch I find myself perched in front of the pellet stove with my lap top seeking... seeking... what am I seeking? Wow first thing that comes to mind here is... an outlet. I'm seeking an outlet, yes. And I suppose with writing being my number one option of escape it only makes sense that I would find myself here. However in the dead of a dreary New England winter there are just oh so many things a simple gal like myself can find to write about and oddly enough the one thing my mind keeps circling back to is Poop in the Pool. Ah, not exactly the highlight of my day, but powerfully beckoning all the same.
For those of you just tuning in, I work at a resort - a nice one. Upscale in all of its seaside glory, but alas something was amiss today at the usually prestine and classiest of all establishments known in Wonderland.
I was making my usual rounds on the first floor seeking diligently for specks of untidiness as I usually do in the early morning hours of the work day when behold I smelled the distinct odor of Poo. It seemed to be coming from every direction, permeating the air and violating the nostril with every reluctant whiff. I soon began to track the scent to the indoor pool. Oh dear! This is certainly by far the worst place you can track such a smell!! And sure enough, laying on the bottom of the hot tub floor like a sunken submarine was a suspiciously lumpy brown object.
I backed away slowly, trying to comprehend the horrific and offensive situation. Very quickly I returned to my office and made a make shift sign stating the pool was closed, called maintenance for back up and ran to post the sign on the pool door. Mr. Big arrived promptly and confirmed the suspicious brown package to be a significant contaminate to the pool.
He asked me to located Mr. Balding while he went back to his office to collect the necessary tools to retrieve the sunken submarine.
I ran and found Mr. Balding tinkering in the boiler room as he usually does and informed him of the unfortunate situation. We both returned to the pool to assist Mr. Big only to find an even greater horror awaiting us.
A young couple had entered the pool and were comfortably seated in the hot tub!! (Apparently they had not seen or had disregarded the sign I had posted)
Mr. Balding jumped into action and I braced myself for the impact.
"Excuse me, but the pool is closed at the moment," he told the young couple.
"Why is that?" the young man asked.
"There's a problem with the water," Mr. Balding answered choosing his words carefully.
"It seems fine to us," the cocky young man argued. "What exactly is the problem?"
And that's when Mr. Balding ran out of carefully chosen words.
"There's feces in it," he told them in a grim matter of factly manner.
The woman released a midevil scream of torture and both jumped from the hot tub with turbo speed. The man started sputtering threats between evenly spaced profanities while the woman blubbered and began to cry.
Oh it was not a pretty sight! And it took hours to shock treat the pool!
In hind sight, I suppose one of us should have stayed to ensure nobody entered the pool. However if we had, then this story would be lacking a moral and that would be to never take lightly a Pool is Closed sign.

From Rags to Riches

So still being somewhat new to this great online community here, I've still got some tweaking to do to my page and still finding my way around in general.
Last time I was on I noticed that my About Me section was kinda... BLAH. So I decided to tweak it up a bit with a more detailed description. However, the more I wrote the more I realized a lot has changed About Me in a very short amount of time.
For instance the last time I wrote an About Me section was for Myspace and the lady I described there is much different from the lady I would describe here.
Just a few years ago I was living single in a little beachside cottage in Ogunquit. I had a cat and a hammock and a lot of watering holes where everybody knew my name. I had no family that lived closer than 200 miles away so I was pretty lonely most of the time. I was on again off again with this guy that quite frankly broke my heart in a different place every time I gave it to him.
Then somebody set fire to my place of employment and I started to lose my faith in love and kindness and well good people. I remember standing in the rubble looking up at rain that was falling through the blackened hole in the ceiling and crying. It felt like... like I hadn't just lost my job where the people there are like family. I felt like I had lost everything, the foundation that made me who I was. I felt like somebody had ripped out the cornrstone of the beliefs I had based my whole life around.
Then I became an arsen suspect for a little while there because I blogged about a dream I had about fire a month prior to the Inn burning down. So they strapped me, along with several of my co-workers, to a lie detector and started asking questions until they were convinced we had nothing to do with the crime.
They never made any arrests although they do believe they know who is responsible. Turns out 90 percent of arsenists are never caught.
Anyways after the fire I sorta shut down. I ended it with the heart breaker dude and I stopped dating altogether. I spent a lot of time in cemetaries making art from historic grave stones. I was more than a little obessed with death.
But something incredible was about to happen. Mr. Fish decided not to let the fire destroy him and he started to rebuild. Suddenly instead of counting inventory to submit our losses to the insurance I was also ordering replacement materials.
From the ashes, the Inn was rebuilt bigger and stronger than before. Something inside me softened and I started treating people around me a little kinder than I had before.
And that's when it happened. I was walking down the hall a few months after the fire with a load of laundry in my arms and I saw him. It was the Minute Man. He was standing on a ladder installing a sprinkler. He happened to be right in my way and I was about shuffle by him, but then he smiled at me. Don't get me wrong folks. I've been smiled at before, but his smile was something so beautiful it was like a rainbow shining through the storm. I think I actually stopped breathing for a minute. He said hello. Of course I said nothing because I couldn't breathe so I just smiled and shuffled past him as quickly as I could.
It didn't take long before there were new sparks at work and on Valentines Day I was sitting home alone with my cat and he called me up and asked me what I was doing. Honestly I was torn between telling him I was such a loser that I didn't have plans on Valentines Day or fibbing and telling him I was going through a stack of invitations to dinner and trying to figure out which one I was going to select. I found myself confessing that I didn't have plans and he asked me out to dinner. The rest is history... and maybe one I'll share on Valentine's Day.
But what I didn't know about the Minute Man was that he had 50 percent custody of a precious little 3 year old girl. This proved to be a challenge whereas I had never dated anyone with kids before and was unable to have any of my own... and I have lots more to write on this too but I must remember this is About Me.
Things between Mr. Minute and I progressed very quickly and we just got married less than a year ago - at the newly remodeled Inn!
I still have a cat, but I also have so much more. I have a step daughter that adores me and I have become part of another whole family who thinks I'm pretty okay. Instead of watering holes I have friends and family I can visit. And the graveyards have taken a back burner to parks with bright red swings and little kids that want to play.
Bedtime now consists of storys I tell little girls and not freakish horror skits I write on the computer for fun. Meals are made for three and more often than not they consist of Mac & Cheeese instead of wine and cheese. Clothes in the back seat of my car have now been replaced with a car seat and stuffed animals. And the cornerstone of my beliefs have been rebuilt bigger and stronger before.

Snowed in at Work

Well, I guess if you find yourself snowed in a work then you should at least be grateful that you work at a hotel where there are beds and showers and 82 channels of cable!!!
If I were a cat I would have lost three lives driving into work this morning. There were times that I couldn't see the road in front of me and with no safe place to pull over it was do or die! I clutched the wheel with white knuckles and pressed my face close to the windshield so I could peer out the one inch circle of glass that my defroster managed to keep from freezing over.
I finally found a gas station that was in the process of getting plowed out so I attempted to pull over so I could clear the ice from my wipers. That went real well. I got stuck in a heavy drift of snow - twice - before being able to maneuver the car back onto the road and by that time ice had already begun to form on the wipers again.
The usual half hour commute to work took me an hour and probably shaved off sixteen years off my life span with the amount of stress my body went through. When I pulled into the little seaside resort that I work at, I noticed a three ice ice ball between my wiper and the windshield. It was impressive enough to stop and take a picture.

Saving Samara

Last night I broke an entry (two actually) stopped a house from burning down and saved my friend's life - except I didn't know all that until today.

I knew my friend Samara was not in a good state of mind. She recently lost her job and got separated from her husband all while recovering from major surgery from having a hole in her heart. I really don't know anybody that could possibly be in a good state of mind under those conditions. So when insisted earlier in the day that she was fine, I knew her well enough to read between the lines. Her words said: stay away, but her voice said: bring banana cream pie.

As I drove over to her house I felt a mounting sense of urgency pushing the gas petal closer to the floor. When I got there I found the house dark and without signs of life. I tried the door but the cold metal wouldn't turn. I knew that she was home because the doctor had just pulled her driver's license for having uncontrollable seizures. Without much hesitation I abandoned the banana cream pie on her front porch and went around to the side of the house and kicked out the boarded up basement window.

I snaked my body through the narrow opening and lowered myself as close as I could get to the floor and dropped the rest on the way down into her basement. Feeling more like a criminal than a concerned friend, I groped my way around in the dark.

I retrieved the pie from the front steps and made my way upstairs to her bedroom. I knocked on the door and was answered by Ranger's protective barking. But no sign of Samara. I tried the door but was again confronted with a locked entrance. However being of the determined sort, I quickly made one of the forks in my coat pocket into a tool to pop the lock. (I had banana cream pie and she was going to eat it dammit!)

I found Samara heavily sedated in bed. I turned on the lights and shouted at her until she woke up. She looked up at me through a groggy haze and said, "Oh I guess my little plan didn't work?"

"What plan?" I asked.

"I was going to burn the house down with me in it," she said.

"So what stopped you?" I asked.

"It didn't catch I guess," she mumbled. "I took a lot of sleeping pills so I would sleep through it."

I stayed with her a while. We watched some Willy Wonka and ate banana cream pie until her mood began to lighten. I hoped that me being there showed her that she had people in her life that still cared about her and would eased her sense of despair.

As I got ready to leave, she told me that I had saved her life because she had planned on ending it later that night. I assured her that was not a good idea and I left her drifting off to sleep.

Haunted by her last words, I called her son today to have him go and check on her. A short time later he called saying that he walked into a house full of smoke and a fire smoldering in the basement. He said if I hadn't called the house would have gone up in flames.

We discovered that one of her medications to control her seizures has a side effect that causes thoughts of suicide and depression. 

Samara is in the hospital, but she's not talking to me right now. She says she'll never forgive me for saving her worthless life. I guess its true what they say. A good deed never goes unpunished.

A Small Victory

We've been having trouble getting Girl Child to eat anything other than Mac & Cheese and Chef Boy. The problem has gotten increasingly worse over the last month and I'm getting pretty frustrated because most of the time I'm left to deal with the challenge myself.

When I told Minute Man that I was having a problem, he suggested that we each take turns picking dinner. I reminded him that he's not often home for dinner. Last night he made it a point to be there. It was Girl Child's turn to pick dinner and of course she asked for Mac & Cheese, but with hot dogs mixed in. Okay. We didn't have any hot dogs. So I made some homemade Mac & Cheese and added some tuna.

I held my breath as Girl Child entered the kitchen to inspect dinner.  When she saw that it was homemade Mac & Cheese and not the stuff from the box - and that her hot dogs had been replaced with tuna she began to cry.

Minute Man stepped up to the plate and explained very kindly and with far more patience than I would have been able to muster that we didn't have any hot dogs so we used tuna instead. He reasoned with her, assuring her that she liked Mac & Cheese and she liked tuna so she should like this too. We sealed the deal by letting her choose her drink - chocolate milk.

Somewhat appeased she sat down to the dinner table with us and began to eat. Half way through her dinner, she looks up from her plate with big blue shining eyes and announces, "Hey this isn't as bad as it looks!"

Thanks kid.... I think.



  

The Minute Man

So here I have named this blog the Minute Man's Wife and still no mention of the Minute Man himself. We got married in May of 2010 and although it hasn't been all bliss and bright lights, with marriage comes a sense of security I have never known. With the marriage I also inheritied a six year old daughter who returns my adoration in ten fold.

I started dating the Minute Man when she was three and it was a HUGE change in my lifestyle. Unable to have children of my own I was somewhat of a free spirit let's say. I had no idea whatsoever on how to care for a child.

I quickly learned that if you tell a 3 year old that when she grows up she's going to get married and her Daddy will GIVE HER AWAY she will not necessarily take it was well as you may have intended. I learned that toddlers can watch the same movie 5 times in a row if you will let them. I learned that shutting off the lights is essential to bedtime.

In many ways I feel that I got thrown into motherhood - but then again doesn't every mother feel that way??

The Minute Man and I are actually two very different individuals. He manages a night club. I manage a housekeeping department. He listens to hip hop. I listen to punk rock. He dances to the beat. I dance to the tempo. He likes steak. I rarely eat meat. He is night. I am day. Like night and day we only meet during the minutes where daybreak and nightfall coinside as one. When I am waking up, he is going to bed. When I am getting home from work, he is just leaving. We meet for minutes at a time stealing kisses and secret glances as we each scramble to our destinations trading off responsibility of the Girl Child as we rush about.

Is it what I imagined married life to be like? No. But then again when is life ever what we expect it to be?

So About That First Novel....

That first novel I wrote was pretty good. It was actually probably better than any novel I could... no, no, I could write a great novel now... better than the first. It's just time presents a challenge. Well, time and the ability to focus. Although I suppose I could focus if there were more time.

Yes, yes but about that first novel. It's a tragedgy as I suppose most first novels are, but not in the way that it never got published. Oh no! I burned it. See, I was playing with a friend of mine who thought it would be fun to use a ougie board. And well some spiteful spirit out there convinced me that all the characters in my book were real and in order to "set them free" I had to burn the book. So I did. I was 12 folks! (And more than a little gullible.) I still believed my mother had eyes in the back of her head! I get very attached to my characters. I REALLY wanted to set them free from the pages. Although I've tried a few times, I've never written another novel since.

A Blank Page

I've been keeping a journal since I was twelve, before online versions even existed. I wrote my first novel when I was twelve. I always knew that writing was my calling. What I didn't know if that life had a funny way of making what is supposed to be simple more complicated than you ever thought imaginagable.

I used to think a book full of blank pages was the thrill of all thrills. When I would start a new journal I would leaf through the pages with the excitement of a child on Christmas morning. I would just sit and imagine all the things that were yet to happen. Where would my life be at the end of the journal? What goals would I have accomplished? What friends would I have made? What challenges would I overcome? I suppose this new online version takes some of that thrill away, but it certainly is easier.

Tonight was my last assignment for the weekly paper. I don't know if I want to laugh or cry. Newpapers across the country are suffering. It's the same new age technology that has replaced my paper journal. It's also replacing newspapers. It's becoming harder and harder to hack it as a freelancer for traditional papers because they are struggling and have hence incorporated budget restraints and other BS that makes it hard to breathe. They're draining the passion out of the act of writing, like blood from the unsuspecting vampire's victim. *Sigh* But I will not go off on a rant. Life is too short.

I've learned that when something isn't working for you, it's okay to move on. (This was actually quite a big life lesson for me.) Can you believe that I actually used to read books that I didn't find interesting just because I had already started them??? That's like staying in a relationship that isn't working just because you went out on a couple dates!! Really! (More about that later!!)

However, I've decided that just because I've given up my work at the newspaper, I'm not giving up on writing. That would be like ditching a book and then giving up on reading altogether. Wouldn't it?