Another Day, Another Dollar, Another Disappointment, Another Desire, Another Dollop

My babies are sick - they both have fevers that tucked them under blankets on the couch all day yesterday.  I changed out movies, made them soup, brought them water to drink and coaxed them into eating popsicles and warm chocolate chip cookies.  They hardly ate anything.  I'm not sure how it happened or why, but I pray that their little bodies are better today.

Kitty hasn't had much better luck.  Obviously a truck cannot get a fever, but she was in rough shape.  I blew a tire on Sunday.  I'll summarize without much detail:  me and the kids were on our way to my friend Bryan's for a pool party/cookout.  The tire blew just around the corner from Bryan's house.  I called him and said, "I need a hero."  Him and Jake, another good friend, showed up strutting their manly stuff.  They set out to get the spare and change the tire - "We're going to show you how easy it is and next time you can do this." 

They couldn't get the spare out from under the truck.  It had two separate, anti-theft locks, and one of them was rusted.  They worked on it for over an hour.   Finally, I told Bryan to go back to his party.  (The kids had already gone ahead with Jessica and her friend Kristy and were probably having a blast).  I'd say 30 seconds after he pulled out and 10 minutes before the tow truck was to arrive, Jake got the spare tire down.  He came up with black hands, and a ruined, sweaty shirt on his back and a "I conquered the world" smile.  After that, I changed the tire. (Did you hear that?  I changed the tire!  Cross that off my bucket list...).

Kitty went to the shop yesterday.  She needed all new tires and an oil change.  In the past year I've probably spent $65,439.54 on getting her fixed.  (Not that much of course, but anything over $500 might as well have been that much).  I'll probably spend another $65,439.54 on her and get her all fixed up and then put her into semi-retirement for the remainder of her life.  She's getting tired. (She drove me nearly 5,000 miles since March).  She's been a champ, but she's going to have to move over for my new vehicle soon.  (New job begins at the end of August - decent money, honey.  Mama deserves a new car).

The entire filter and pump for the pool needed to be replaced yesterday.  (Had the warranty though so no cost to me).

A storm blew through the state on Sunday and I have 54,000 huge tree branches in my front and back yard that need to be picked up.  The electricity was out for an afternoon and night, and sent the dogs into a frenzy.

I finished draft number 2 of novel number 1 and it needs a lot-a lot-alotalotalotalotalot of work - new scenes better ways to say and better transitions than "I stood up". If I were to count how many times that phrase is in there, I'd be counting all day.

I have a blind date on Saturday that I have no desire - not even an inkling of desire - to go on.  (I'm not against men, just freaking dating.  I'd much rather stay home with my book and notepad and write about dating.  At least then I can imagine it to be much less disappointing).

And so on... life is going on.  The kiddies and kitty, the pool and the storm, the dogs and the writing, and disappointing dates...

... the beach tomorrow with my sister-in-law and nieces ...Buffalo in a couple weeks with the entire family for a stuffed pepper recipe contest ...my 20th class reunion

...my babies are awake.  Time for a new day to begin.

My Humbled Pride

I just finished reading my brother Cliff's blogpost.  He talked about illusions driving your existence.  I want to say that it was a peppy post but in reality, it was downright depressing.  (Thanks Cliff).  I've had the whole "illusions" thought process.  I used to like the word.  I used to think that having an illusion was what brought about change.  Now?  Not so much.

Illusions seem to be the cause of so much heartbreak.

A few nights ago, I attempted to write something about love.  The title of the blog was True Companion.  I wrote it, posted it, slept on it and at 5am, I re-read it and deleted the post.  (Thank God nobody saw it).  Who was I to write anything about love, about a true companion?  I am the living proof that I don't know shit about shit (thanks again Cliff) when it comes to relationships.  I share my kids with someone every other weekend and I entertain their questions about the divorce - why did you get divorced?  When will daddy come back?  Didn't you love each other?  Why can't you just live together and get remarried? - every other day.  (I recently read a line from a book called If You Want Me to Stay (Michael Parker) and in it was a line that went something like this:  Defer the question and hope that they forget to reask it.  After I read it I thought, "Yes! That is exactly what I do!").

Yet, yet, not knowing shit about shit when it comes to relationships hasn't knocked me out.  I've been down for the count, sure.  Yet I always stand back up before we get to 10, with my hands protecting my face.  I am worse for the wear - it shows on my face and in my ability to walk steadily with the humbled pride that rests between reason and illusion.

It's all I can do.

Today, the gloves are back on.  I'll defer the questions and hope they're not reasked; I'll daydream about someone I probably haven't met yet; and one day, I'll be able to show my kids what a true companion truly is - and their questions will have been answered.  Someday.

That is the illusion. 

TRUE COMPANION

The measure of each wrinkle, gray hair, laugh, fear, tear, dream (the ones that do and do not forget about the promise) - spanning the years. The hours remembering and recalling. The strength needed to find it in every day. There is loneliness in this candle light tonight, a glass of Chardonnay keeps it at bay, and messages from new friends and old friends blanket its smoke; climbing that mountain, seeing that mountain, being on that mountain, and wandering in the reality, canvassed grasses pecking at the ankles, mosquitos slapping; a veil lifted, a mouth kissed. A true companion. What it is to be in love! What is it to be in love? That spark! That spark? The shadows of the past that need a full ray of light. To shine. Finding you, that will be the day.

A true companion.

It's all an illusion but damn it, it's better than nothing.

Blessed Vacation

It is the hottest day of the year.  If I were my mother, I would be chopping vegetables for a big vat of soup, or a spicy chili.  She thrives on irony.

As it is, I am gathering firewood from my neighbors' stack of it. (He doesn't know it yet but if I supply the Bud Light, he'll have no problem with my theft).  I went to the grocery store with the kids on Wednesday and the first thing we saw on a huge display were supplies for s'mores: marshmallows, graham crackers, chocolate and s'mores sticks (which work much better than twigs from the woods - dug out in the darkness among mice and spiders and those little tiny bugs that leave welts on your ankles).  We will have a bonfire - and it will be fun damn it.  Hot.  Oh, so hot though.

In thirty minutes, after the cake finishes baking, we are going to take our sweaty selves to the air -conditioned truck, sing Justin Beiber or Taylor Swift (the kids are victims of pop rock despite the fact that they know every song that my best friend Bruce sings), and buy a boat big enough for three at the pool supply store.

It is the first day of an eight-day vacation with them, and the pool - my beautiful, round oasis filled with sparkling blue water - will be our companion for the weekend.  We will make whirlpools, wrestle on basketballs, play Marco-Polo and swim.  Swim!  Glorious swimming followed by popsicles and reading on the deck while we dry off.

After the weekend, we are heading for the beach.  More swimming! 

Being in the water makes me feel at home.  Being in the water with the kids makes me feel whole.

Cake's done.  Let's go!

True Companion

The measure of each wrinkle, each gray hair, each fear-filled argument (the ones that forget about the promise), spanning the years.  The hours spent on remembering, recalling the conversations; the laughs; the tears (from it or whatever); the strength to find it in every day.

Loneliness in this candle light, a glass of Chardonnay and messages from new friends;
climbing that mountain, seeing that mountain, being on that mountain,
and wandering,
wondering in the midst of the turmoil of reality, canvassed grasses pecking at the ankles, mosquitos slapping; a veil lifted, a mouth kissed.

A true companion.

What it is to be in love!
That spark!

The shadows... the shadows of the past, needing a full ray of light.  To shine.  In order to shine.

Finding you, that will be the day.

A true companion.

With killer graces and secret places...

... and gray hair, laugh lines, memories of all of it - the willingness to know all of it - a reading, a writing, a word, a song.  Within it all.

A true companion.

Time.  Not on our side.

Why didn't I?  Why didn't I?

Maybe you did.  With killer graces and secret places and gray and wrinkles and laugh lines and a past...

A true companion.

Why not?

Love

I've been awake for a couple hours now.  In probably less than an hour, the kids will be awake and ready to start a brand new day with me and the dogs and the 100 degree weather.

I look forward to it.

Yes, my PC busted and I have to take it in.  Yes, I got another flippin' bill from my lawyer and will have to pay it.  Yes, the house is a mess and will have to be cleaned.  Yes, the garden is overgrown and flopping.  Yes, yes, yes.

A couple days ago, after Tony and Paige returned, I watched them interact.  They are brilliant.  I know it sounds so cliche coming from their mother, but it's true.  (I suppose it's true of any child).  At one point, I said, "Here comes Enzo, Tony."  And he replied, while tip-toeing, "Is he creeping slowly?" 

Where does a child get these things?

At dinner last night we talked about our favorite parts of the day and we all agreed that "right now" (seated beside each other at the table) was our favorite part of the day.  I said:  "It's weird we all have the same favorite part of the day."  And Tony said, "Technically, it means we love each other."

So incredibly beautiful.

I'm not sure what the theme of this post is supposed to be.  Yet, my heart feels full and warm and content this morning, despite the responsibilities associated with living. 

Wait, I know what it is!

I am in love.

In love. 

Sitting in the midst of it, feeling it, surrounded by it, hopeful of its power, wrapped in its strength, aware of its depth, and discovering that, technically, it is my favorite part of every day.

Peppers Out the Wazoo

I spent two hours in the garden today.  The weeds that got through the black paper are like trees.  The tomato plants are so heavy that they knocked down the cages and so I was burdened with the task of putting in stakes and tying them into an upright position.  I am tripping over watermelons.  (What possessed me to buy four watermelon plants?  The neighbors are going to hate me by the end of the summer). The cucumbers are coming in waves, alongside the yellow squash and the zucchini. 

We mustn't forget the peppers - hot banana peppers, sweet banana peppers and jalapenos. 

Out the wazoo.

I could feed a good portion of China on the peppers alone!

It is not clear why I planted so many peppers this year.  I think it was because last year I was in such a fog of grief that I don't recall eating any.  So this year, I think, I subconsciously tried to make up for it.

I spoke with my sister yesterday about the 2nd annual stuffed hot pepper contest.  I will be a participant this year and I am a sure winner.  If my siblings start talking smack now, they are sure to regret it when they have to eat humble pie and pin the blue ribbon to my shirt.  I say this in jest because we all know that Jeff is looking down on us and loving every second of it, and would probably be the winner.  I've been saying prayers that he come to me in a dream with a good recipe, just so y'all know.

Anyway - if anyone nearby needs some vegetables, stop over and pick away.  And if you need peppers, check the wazoo.

Fastening My Belt

Abdication.
Abdication?
Ab-dic-a-tion??

I awoke with this word rolling through my brain and for the life of me, I couldn't remember what it meant.

It means: to relinquish or give up power formally.  Such as a king abdicating from the throne; or a person of power resigning from the position.

Okay, great.  Now I remember what it means.  Why the hell was I dreaming about it?

Then a song by Sting sang in my head.  It is a song that I might have listened to, maybe, a dozen times over my lifetime.  The only line I know is:  "Let your soul be your pilot, let your soul guide you, he'll guide you well."

I suppose the two are connected.  Of course they are connected.  Why else would my little brain be reciting the word abdicate with Sting singing in the background?

Then there is the separation of where your soul wants to fly you and where your responsibilities take you.  For example, my soul is telling me to hop in the truck and pick up the kids in my pajamas because I am desperate to see them;  yet, responsibility necessitates that I a) put on regular clothes; b) wait for a reasonable hour because 6am is not acceptable; and c) ugh, grocery shop first.

On a bigger level, I am sitting in a house that used to belong to a marriage.  I made it my own - adding a pool, a puppy, flowers in the front garden and a boatload more love within.  Yet, today, it feels like a heavy burden.  I suppose it probably has to do with having been piloted to the top of a mountain for over a week and then landing in the same destination as always.

The difference however, between being here now and being here then is that there has been a shift in my little brain - an urging to continue writing and to watch my step, lest I fall into that same old rhythm of the past year.  It's like eating pizza every day and then finally tasting its zest.  It's difficult to go back to just eating it.

Make sense?

So this is my formal resignation from eating bland pizza; from being in this house and forgetting to taste its flavors.  I am abdicating from autopilot, and will navigate my flight via the directions from my soul.

It should be a fun ride.