Imagine's Journal

Interesting Things I Noticed Today

Tue, 01 Jul 2008 23:31:57 GMT

No pictures! Today I wanted to actually live my day and not just be a witness to it. I rode to the big river and I saw lots of water fowl. There were the pair of swans that live near the dam, and today they had a cygnet with them. Just one, but he was grey and annoying and everything a cygnet should be. I saw several old men fishing on the riverbank and it made me wonder if they got the memo about not eating fish from the Huron. I saw loads of families teaching kids how to ride bikes. I wonder if there is some genetic mandate that suggests a particular amount of sunlight vs. darkness that will bring out the teach-the-small-girl-how-to-ride-a-two-wheeler imperative. Back near the old mill, I rode beside a branch creek for some miles. It was like a cool green tube of a trail. Quiet and filled with hidden things. It smelt like salamanders, but I didn't stop to look for them. Once home again, I found bunnies *inside* the garden fence. They were looking very fat and guilty, I might add.
My fenced-in garden is probably like lawn porn to bunnies. So much there, all different flavors, enough to make a brown woodland bunny swoon. The chipmunks can now tolerate me for short periods if I hold still for them.

The morning was teh suck, kinda, but the afternoon was golden.

Good News!

Mon, 30 Jun 2008 19:44:13 GMT

So I went to the Eye-doctor today and he told me in no uncertain terms that I have neither glaucoma nor macular degeneration. Yay, me! No, but really. I have 20/20 vision with corrective lenses, so I'm totally good. I heart having the U of M resource right here for me.

Whatever. Now mind you manners.

Sun, 29 Jun 2008 14:04:17 GMT

Here’s my thing; years ago when I was in college, I dated a super-sweet guy. He was funny, enjoyably bright and killer handsome. I liked him enormously. One weekend day we were at his house (at his request; he practically hijacked me) cooking, reading, listening to music and making love. We were, in fact, upstairs in bed when a knock came at the door. He threw on a jacket and hurried downstairs to see who it was. He left my side mid-sentence, I might add. Well, he left the person at the door after having seen who it was. He raced upstairs bid me bye-bye (I knew my way home from there, didn’t I?) and left. He. Just. Left. Before outrage sets in, you may want to understand the backstory. There is always backstory, even if it doesn’t completely correct for the rudeness.

We were never going to marry, we both knew that. Our friendship was a loving one and we enjoyed each others’ company, but he was thirteen years my senior and I expect that I’d have been a bit much to explain to his conservative family. I *was* legal at the time and I could do the math, realizing that his 65 would be my 52. Kinda dot dot dot. By about three months, legal, I was, was I . . . Besides, I was still in school and he had no intention of partnering with a person who was not yet on her own two feet. The woman he did marry some years later was just about his age and well established (which turned out to be it’s own tragedy that I can save for a time when we have more facial tissue in the house). But I digress. The point here is that I was totally and completely aware that this guy was seeing several (several) people and, as I was myself unattached, had no problem with that. My problem then, as now, is the rudeness. Later he gave me some bull about the nature of our relationship hasn’t been quantified in the world as we know it. No? No, really? Well, I was raised by a no-nonsense woman who was married to the drunken local Farrier. That last being neither here nor there. One thing for sure; she lived like she wasn’t kidding. She taught me my values (and I altered them to meet my more modern needs). I can’t imagine for the life of me (see I’m channeling Mrs. Deagnan right now) how it would be okay to be in the middle of a date, conversation, movie, weekend, what-have-you, with a person that you either invited or practically kidnapped for the purpose of enjoying their company, and discover another social opening and, well, just take it. If I’d scheduled a play-date (they didn’t call it that then) with another child and a neighbor child came to the door, I had to politely decline. . . well, politely is in the eye of the beholder, but I’m sure she made me decline as I had ‘a houseguest at home just now, thank-you.’ It’s really that simple. Think of it this way. You make a date to meet a friend at a cafe. You meet and chat a bit. Unexpectedly, another friend walks by. You get up and give your date a peck on the cheek, explaining (or not) that you’re done talking now and you walk off to catch up with your other friend. I think not. Or, as Mrs. Deagnan was wont to say, “what’s the problem with ya child, I know you weren’t raised in a barn, now. Good manners don’t cost a thing”!

That is all.

Diana Ross (long time ago)

Wed, 25 Jun 2008 04:13:12 GMT

We may be hitting the Summer Video Festival Time

Tue, 24 Jun 2008 19:32:36 GMT

When I was a little girl, I secretly (very secretly) wanted to grow up to be just like Diana Ross. My father would have locked me in a room and thrown away the key, had he known. I can't sing like Diana. . .

and I'm seriously still trying to develop a butt like that - but I *can* dance in heels.

Upside Down

I said upside down
You're turnin' me
You're givin'love instinctively
Round and round You're turnin' me

Upside down
Boy, you turn me
Inside out
And round and round
Upside down
Boy, you turn me
Inside out
And round and round

Instinctively you give to me
The love that I need
I cherish the moments with you
Respectfully I say to thee
I'm aware that you're cheating
When no one makes me feel like you do

Upside down
Boy, you turn me
Inside out
And round and round
Upside down
Boy, you turn me
Inside out
And round and round

I know you got charm and appeal
You always play the field
I'm crazy to think you are mine
As long as the sun continues to shine
There's a place in my heart for you
That's the bottomline

Upside down
Boy, you turn me
Inside out
And round and round
Upside down
Boy, you turn me
Inside out
And round and round

Instinctively you give to me
The love that I need
I cherish the moments with you
Respectfully I say to thee
I'm aware that you're cheating
But no one makes me feel like you do

Upside down
Boy, you turn me
Inside out
And round, round
Upside down
Boy, you turn me
Inside out
And round and round

Upside down
Boy, you turn me
Inside out
And round and round
Upside down
Boy, you turn me
Inside out
And round, round

Upside down you're turnin' me
You're givin'love instinctively
Round and round You're turnin' me
I say to thee respectfully

Upside down You're turnin' me
You're givin'love instinctively
Round and round You're turnin' me
I say to thee respectfully
Upside down You're turnin' me
You're giving love instinctively
Round and round you're turnin' me

Weird Week

Thu, 19 Jun 2008 01:34:31 GMT

Okay. I've got a sort of anti-date on Saturday night. Little red-haired boy and I and my kid and his kid are going to inhabit the same general space at Top of the Park. Well, except my kid will probably be off with his friends. I'm starting to kinda like this bony elf. Last email he made sure to clarify that this isn't a date per se, but a hanging out. Well, okay. I could choose to be mildly insulted, but I think I'll go with honesty and say that I'm a bit relieved. It rather takes the pressure off. I mean, who knows how things might fall out? He may like bacon (shudder). There's no telling how he may seem to me (or me to him) after a bit of getting to know each other. My thing these days is that I want to be as comfortable as possible in my actual community. The rest will happen in a natural way. It always does. The community thing; it's happening, but slowly. I still find myself wanting to cocoon and not get out and be social. But still, this is the most network I've ever had, I think, ever. It can be a bit disconcerting that I can't go anywhere without running into somebody that I either know or know of, but it's a comfort too. Next steps include not only knowing a few people, but knowing a few people with whom I have some (more) things in common. Like values, for one. Tamlin (among a few others) comes into play, I think, for that. He seems to be a lefty with earth-concerns. . . Bonus points for not being a conservative christian. I don't hate on teh christians, I just get tired of the way they seem to overwhelm with sheer numbers. At least around here. Ah. Very tired, me. Sipping green tea and thinking about becoming. Wondering what I'll be when I grow up.

No Outstanding Warrants

Sun, 15 Jun 2008 17:36:14 GMT

Ah, Middle School Graduation! Wait. What? We never ‘graduated’ from Middle School. . . we just finished it and went on to High School. But now they ‘Graduate’. Um. Okay. No diplomas were awarded, thanks very much, and the crowd was considerably less dressed up than at a typical graduation. All to the good, I say.

As the youngest of four siblings, I was exposed to more school ceremonies than you can shake a stick at. Awards nights, inductions, and actual graduations were had in my family with painfully boring regularity, at least up until me. I wasn’t much of a joiner. That history in mind, my son’s ceremony wasn’t too unique on the face of it. A respected teacher was the MC and she started out by introducing the eighth grade band. I listened to that with my teeth clenched and a fixed smile, then clapped with real enthusiasm when the entertainment portion of the program concluded. The MC came out again and delivered hugs and awards for the two students with the best GPA and citizenship merits; a boy and a girl. Mothers cried. It was very nice. Then the MC started to call out the remaining awards by group; Honor Roll Students, Honor Society Students, Students who participated in sports, students with perfect attendance. . . students who adopted a pet. . . students who never were given detention. . . students who never were suspended. . . Um. Maybe it’s just me, but I don’t remember those last few categories from when I was a kid. I mean, what next? No outstanding warrants? Voted least likely to become a parent before the end of the summer? Just wow. I hung my head in despair when I realized that this is the new reality. Stand up, kids, and let’s give them a big round of applause, all the kids who have never been arrested for a felony! Oh, Charles, honey, that one isn’t you, dear. You may take your seat.

till the ductile anchor hold;

Sat, 14 Jun 2008 03:25:17 GMT

Walt Whitman (1819–1892). Leaves of Grass. 1900.

208. A Noiseless Patient Spider

A NOISELESS, patient spider,
I mark’d, where, on a little promontory, it stood, isolated;
Mark’d how, to explore the vacant, vast surrounding,
It launch’d forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself;
Ever unreeling them—ever tirelessly speeding them. 5

And you, O my Soul, where you stand,
Surrounded, surrounded, in measureless oceans of space,
Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing,—seeking the spheres, to connect them;
Till the bridge you will need, be form’d—till the ductile anchor hold;
Till the gossamer thread you fling, catch somewhere, O my Soul. 10

With Friends Like These . . .

Sat, 14 Jun 2008 01:11:44 GMT

I actually used to have a woman 'friend' who basically was all about this kind of thing. Strangely, she was shocked that I simply wasn't interested in spending time with her anymore. Heh. Problems with small pores.

Wake Up or What Did I Think That Meant

Wed, 11 Jun 2008 21:44:40 GMT

Ever just not notice the impact of events until somewhat later? Like a delayed reaction or something? Maybe it's the natural result of a shock. . . Seems I've had several, all converging at the very same time and I just opened my eyes and noticed. Wheeee haaa. Somehow, even while I could see it all playing out right in front of me, the actual practical impact as applies to *me* was somehow lost. I mean, you don't notice seat belts until you need them, right? Looking back at my blog, I guess I just didn't think to write about any of it either. Not really, anyways. Or, not in terms of practical impact. Along these same lines, I went to this seminar on Job Loss. Amongst other things, seems I have mislaid my employment, well, me and a couple hundred of my peers. Anyways, the very pretty presenter spoke about 'anchors' and how our lives are anchored by several different lines and how that keeps stuff from floating away. Of course, he was pointing out how our job (and loss of job) was the loss of a major anchor. For some people the most important anchor. It's probably not that way for me. The job was just the job. I depend more on my friends. So. Perhaps in my case the Coast Guard might be helpful?

Post Script:

I know what my problem is today! Jeebus Cripes, we are now approaching the anniversary of the car wreck. It always creeps up on me, feeling really weird, until I remember what's happening, what day is approaching. It's all okay. It's okay to miss them. Things always change and people always die. It's normal. A few tears don't hurt anything and do not signal, well, anything more than what they are.

Me Little Red-Haired Boy

Sat, 07 Jun 2008 23:36:02 GMT

Well. There we are. I met a lovely man who actually appeared to be the real deal on several fronts and, yes kids, he doesn't seem to be terribly interested (back). Fine. Like anything else, our heroine (as opposed to heroin) must move forward. I'm sure there are an abundance of attractive sustainable-living types around Ann Arbor. Who might like me, even unemployed. Riiiiight. Hope springs eternal.

EDIT on the 8th; He may not get points for promptness, but at least he still wants to stay in play, as it were. Yay, little red-haired boy! He's kinda like an iceburg anyways. It'll take a bit to discover the underwater parts. If he chooses to allow that. Interest piqued.

Yes.We. Can.

Wed, 04 Jun 2008 01:29:26 GMT

Ladies and Gentlemen; the next president of the United States.

Now, don't mess this up.

Today and Death

Tue, 03 Jun 2008 23:26:07 GMT

People should probably get more comfortable with death. Not that we are wanting to race to the conclusion or anything, but just to recognize that it's out there. I mean we hope it won't hurt you, but of course, it will kill you. That and making friends. I mean, what exactly does that *mean* anyways? What defines friendship? Why do I behave in a certain way to some people and differently with others? I'm thinking about stuff tonight. I think the rain brings it out in me. Why and at what point do my feelings about someone change. What creates the change and what influences it. Just pondering.

Memes Can be Fun

Tue, 03 Jun 2008 02:12:16 GMT

I've been tagged by http://jennyruthyasi.blogspot.com with a meme. I can't remember the first time I met Jenny Yasi. We go back so far it seems like forever. Check out her homey blog that delves into things both domestic and arcane. She holds forth about kids and dogs and sailboats. Well, when she's not taking on world peace and such. Here's the meme.

'List eight little-known facts about yourself'.

Hmm. Let me try.

1) I've had my gall bladder surgically removed. Only about five people in the world knew that other than the surgery people.

2) I'm not quite as keen on cats as I am on dogs. Keep that one under your hats, gang, 'cause the felines for whom I work would only use it as an additional excuse to pee in my shoes. Like, they do that enough anyways.

3) My two older sons were killed in a car wreck when they were thirteen and sixteen. Not many know that one. It happened in June, by the way. I'm always just a teeny bit off my game now in June. No more days-long crying jags, thank goodness, but it makes me extra thoughtful around that time.

4) I've been semi-seriously considering converting to Judaism - probably would if it weren't so danged complicated to do it. Not just lots of study, but a boatload of bureaucracy.

(wow, this is getting HARD to come up with. Stuff is either RATHER personal, or way too well known to qualify)

5) I secretly (but not secretly anymore!) think my hands are my best feature. I have a blend of my mother's long fingers, but more heavily boned and sturdy (and olive) like my dad's. Thanks Mum, Thanks Dad.

6) Okay. Just the people I work with and my closest neighbors know this one. Over the past thirteen months or so, I've lost about 48 pounds. Um. Of weight. I noticed one day that I didn't feel so great and that all my clothes were too tight. So I fixed it. I'm funny that way. I have to recognize something as a problem and then decide for myself that I want to fix it. Then I fix it with relatively little fanfare. I started at about 165 and am now about 117. My original goal was 115, so I'm almost there.

7) I'm half mixed British Isles by heritage. No one who hasn't met my family would guess that about me, I bet !

8) I have a crush on Barack Obama. So shoot me. I mean, girls, don't we ALL have a crush on him? Smart, funny, with the long legs and that lanky all over thing going on. Please. I'm only human.

No Regrets

Mon, 02 Jun 2008 13:16:12 GMT

When I was a kid in Hamilton, Massachusetts we were pretty much allowed to run wild. The area was safe as houses and the forests and fields surrounding the cottage my father built for my mother held an amazing infrastructure of bridal paths that we were able to use. We could move very effectively all over town, virtually unseen. This was pure paradise for we four brave and adventuresome children. I remember that our mum would sometimes tie a note on the dog's collar and put him out to find us. As long as he had no particular agenda of his own, he'd good-naturedly seek us out for company and we would in turn find our message from Mum. One of the places we discovered out adventuring was a glade with an gigantic rock in the middle. The rock was quite personable, as rocks go, so we named it 'Elephant Rock'. It was extremely iconic. I mean, no other rock could ever be mistaken for our Elephant Rock. The glade was lovely as well. We would climb the rock and bask in dappled sunlight and listen to the wind in the trees. Plans would be hatched and stories told. It was a lovely spot overall. I have some of the sweetest memories of my life set in Hamilton area.

When we lived there, it was before my mum stopped singing. In those years, we sang all the time. We sang in the car as a matter of course. It wasn't 'would we sing' but rather 'what would we sing'. We sang when it was just we four out on adventures, and we sang when we helped our mum clean house. The singing years were the best years. Sadly, in the summer between my third and fourth grade school years, the family moved from Hamilton to Pembroke and the singing stopped. My parents both had fairly long commutes and my mother started feeling unwell. Long story.

Fast forward to the present here in Ann Arbor, Michigan where the great forests trend downwards toward the prairie. I suspect that the glacier activity in this area in prehistoric times was quite a bit different than what was going on in New England. One doesn't see great boulders dropped in the melting moraine here. Yet still. Just the other day I was walking in the woods not far from my house. I absent-mindedly chose a frequently traveled path. . . and wandered along for bit. I took a right turn (down a bit of path that I'd never walked prior) in the forest and saw what looked to be a mirror twin of Elephant Rock! Standing quite still then, and looking out a the image that had come to symbolize all that was warm and right and good from that time in my life, I had the strangest and strongest reaction. I got very, very angry. Anyone watching this particular performance would have had something to bring home to the family. I stood staring and I started to shout.

"I HATE YOU", I screamed, shaking. "LEAVE ME ALONE!" I ranted and actually stamped my feet. It was pretty funny in retrospect. The squirrels were able to take in the theatre of this grown woman pitching a four-alarm temper tantrum in the middle of nowhere at a *rock*. They no doubt disapproved. But I had to ask myself later - what the heck was I so angry about? My memories of Elephant rock were so, so nice - where did the anger come from? Well, I think it's because it's gone now you see. The place, the feeling, the rock. If the rock hasn't been blasted or otherwise removed, then it must by now reside in a suburban yard, which would be worse than a zoo. We moved away from the woods and fields. My mother got terribly sick and died. The singing stopped. I mean, I certainly have no regrets about having had the happier bits of my life, but still. While I sometimes feel sadness looking at old images of my childhood, I sometimes just plain get angry. What can I say. Many things and many feelings can all be true at the same time. I once had a friend who claimed that it's always okay to acknowledge your feelings. I think he was right.

Finally Free or (Thank you for Not Smoking)

Sun, 01 Jun 2008 07:20:10 GMT

So. Have you ever smoked cigarettes? Well you shouldn't have. They are not good for you and I'll tell you why. They'll frickin' kill ya! I know, I know, smokers say how good they make you feel. But that doesn't mean they aren't working on killin' ya. Cigarette smoking is probably the king of all addictive behaviors. It's not illegal, it's not particularly expensive. Smoking doesn't feel like an add-on behavior to the addict, it just feels like regular life. Even if you KNOW sure as G-d makes little green apples, that smoking isn't good for you. . . (drum roll) you still smoke. I used to smoke. Really. In retrospect, it is extremely embarrassing. I know and knew precisely what cigarettes are. I knew, but I still smoked because I couldn't stop smoking. Maybe compare it to eating Ho-Hos? They taste great when you start, but if you make a habit of eating them they commence, more and more, to taste like crap, but yet - you keep eating them? It has the comfort of being mildly self-abusive. That's certainly part of it. Like, in the back of your head you're thinking, "I really deserve no better than to wallow in Ho-Hos, so I'll just keep on doing this." Okay, so with all this in mind, how come I'm not a smoker now? How did I quit? What's my secret? Talk about embarrassing. I never did quit. I ran out of money. Yep. I was in my early twenties and doing a art internship and, to say the least, had no money. I had no intention of quitting. I wanted to smoke (in the back of my mind, I still want to smoke and always will). The choice was removed. Smoking didn't want *me* anymore. Weirdly, though, or maybe not so weirdly - as soon as I realized what had happened, that I simply could not afford cigarettes anymore and the choice was out of my hands, and that really was it - a huge wave of relief washed over me. Free. Finally free. I don't depend on cigarettes anymore. Hell, I don't smoke. Addiction broken, Just Like That. Oh, sure, I still backslide. I mean if somebody offered me a cigarette right now. . . well . . . I can't promise that I'd refuse. I'd like to *think* that I would, but I know myself well enough not to promise either way. Moving forward (and what other way is there to go?), not smoking opened out time and resources for other, better, things in my life. Things that not only aren't killing me, but that are actually *good* for me. Much like when I quit eating crappy junk food over a year ago. The space that left made room for healthy food that actually makes me feel better not worse. I still to this day am amazed at the human capacity (my capacity) to do self-abusive stuff because, well, because in my heart of hearts, I suspect I deserve no better. Snap. Pull yourself out of it, girlfriend!

A Good Time Was Had By All

Sat, 31 May 2008 23:18:56 GMT

While I'm kinda missing my son (he's on a weekend mini-vacation with some friends and their parents) I must say, I'm having a wonderful time on my own as well. I met young Tamlin and he was almost exactly as advertised. As with most things there were a few small complications. Not a problem for now, though. I talked too much, but what's new there. I enjoyed him very much despite my serious nervousness. I sense that things may be looking up. As well, I spent a ton of good time with my buddy Viscous Platypus (not her real name) and we walked all over the place and ate gigantic salads at Deva. I pointed out the Day Spa that has the heated terlet seat. I still think that's amusing. What can I say. We ran into one of my friends from the neighborhood, proving yet again what a small town this really is. Home again now, and remembering my day with a smile. A good time was had by all. I'm working on my cyber life/real life balance and I think I've done well today.

In other news; I thought I misplaced something, but it turned out I never had it to begin with.

Tamlin

Fri, 30 May 2008 02:05:50 GMT

Okay, so Tamlin emailed me back. There is a date. Ladies and Gentlemen, we have ignition. By all accounts, he appears to be a real person who doesn't live upstairs in his mum's house (apologies to anyone who is transitional at the moment and may feel slighted by that remark). He works, he has kids, he can both read and write. He is witty, but not a clown. He is not married. He is not in a committed relationship. He gardens (swoon). He has a big bunch of bronzy-brown-red hair and he cleanly defines the term angular. Sigh. There are lots of other things that I sense about him, but wouldn't feel comfortable putting into words. You know. Jinx. But I suspect that he's Just My Type. Which is more rare than you might think to meet me. Of course, this may not head in the direction of romance, but you know, WHO CARES? I so love the idea of simply going downtown to meet someone ( especially someone completely unaffiliated with youth sports) and hang out. Just like a real person! After years of raising a child with the only social interaction I had being the other parents on the sidelines of soccer games - well them and my neighbors, I say Whoooooo freaking Hoooooo Raaah! A real conversation with a handsome grown-up male kind of a person. Holy crap, this is great.

Wait.

What am I going to wear!?

The Finger bone connected to the hand bone

Wed, 28 May 2008 23:40:06 GMT

So, anyways. We have to go in tomorrow and get the splint off and a cast on. My son is *so* not pleased with the whole thing. Swim team is messed up, his semi-formal preparation (which we were supposed to be shopping for but were dealing with the urgent care center) didn't get done and so on. No matter how hard I try to do the right thing, ultimately, I've done the wrong thing and am in disgrace. Not to complain (she said complainingly) but it's not like I did this. Nor did I take any wrong action after the event either. For some reason (that only he comprehends) my son thinks I discussed his accident with his friends, and feels embarrassed. Thing is, I didn't. Really. Can't win 'round here. All I can do is keep my council and hope that my proto-adult hasn't told more about what happened than he meant to - youknow, thinking it had been discussed. . . Crikey. As a matter of record, I did not suggest to his pals that he was showing off when he broke his hand -- or anything else. In fact, his name never came up in a conversation outside this family in recent days, possibly weeks. So, innocent as the dawn, me. Not that I'll get any credit for that, and not that it matters at the end of the day.

A Cure for Sadness (Sometimes)

Tue, 27 May 2008 22:57:07 GMT

One of the things that really works for me in the 'cure for sadness' quest is thinking about somebody else. A buddy of mine - kinda distant buddy, but I've always had the sense that there is a tie - was going to interview for a new job and I sent some words of strength. The trick to words of strength is that they have to be true. I'd been thinking about my own issues both right now (broken bones and the economy) as well as other stuff that reverberates from the death of my father. Point is, though, that as soon as I focused my energy off me and onto someone else -- there it is; contentment. I really hope he gets that job if it turns out to be a good fit for him. If it isn't a good fit, then I hope he doesn't get it. Funny how *that* works. I mean. I want for my friends to have what they want, just so long as I don't see a freight train bearing down on any of them. You know? Now, my buddy with the job? I have no idea how well that position may serve him. I just know for sure that any job he might take on would be well and competently administered. I know it in my bones.

More to the Story

Mon, 26 May 2008 19:56:12 GMT

Well, yes. There's always more to the story and in the interest of complete transparency, I've got some explaining to do. Of *course* there are some rather nice people participating in the okcupid site. I think I've even exchanged email with some of them. There were one or two in particular that kinda made me sigh. One didn't want anything serious as he was getting ready to move, so. . . that was that. The other simply exchanged a few emails with me and then didn't anymore. He was a red-haired boy; like a bronzy-gold. This is the coloring I've always imagined the folk of fairyland to be. Youknow that one? Tamlin? Freaking Tamlin and I exchanged email and I must have somehow ruined it. So. Not all the guys are idiots. Sometimes It's just me. Snap.

Mon, 26 May 2008 00:46:52 GMT

Me Being Somewhat Harsh

Sun, 25 May 2008 03:34:52 GMT

This isn't mine. This is a profile essay from a man who was viewing my profile on the 'Dating' site that I've been experimenting with. Is it just me, or does this guy come off as a judgmental, self-satisfied tool? Here we go. Sing it Baby.

"I believe in leading with the heart. Yeah, sure, intelligence is important, but sometimes overrated. Impulsive, quirky, eclectic are all words that have been used to describe me and I take them all as compliments. That should be a clue.

Do you do something interesting to pay your way through the world? Do you not let yourself be defined by it? Is your path guided by compassion? Have you paused in silence to take a look inward? Can you let spirit guide you?

Will you be bored when I want to go to yet another movie with subtitles? Will you think it silly and irrelevant when I want us to read to each other instead of watching a sitcom? What if I pick Dylan Thomas to read? Would you find it impossible to live without music? Without silence? Without art?

You won’t try to make yourself into someone who pleases me, will you? I want to know what gets you up in the morning, what keeps you up at night, where you turn when the all the hurt and pain and hatred in the world keeps sleep away. I don’t need you to keep me from loneliness, I want to know your dreams, your passions, your loves. Does this sound familiar? "

And from me again here at the bottom.

Inasmuch as you seem to love yourself more than you could ever love anyone else? Well, yes. Sadly familiar. Bless him, at least he didn't mention that he doesn't like fat women.That I am not fat makes no difference to me. I find myself defending womankind in situations like this. Maybe I should tell him that I'm a chartered accountant and I wear only business suits. Even to bed. And that a spirit (who, curiously, looked just like Margaret Thatcher) guided me to answer his post. Trust me Buddy, you are in no danger of having me turn into someone who pleases you. Movies with subtitles. Heh. Little does he know that if he hung out with me, that's ALL he'd be getting by way of movies. A friend of mine once very perceptively noted that one is in constant danger of saying too much and at the same time, not enough. I expect that this fellow is a victim of that syndrome. Big time. Ten bucks he's never read Dylan Thomas, or if he has, he made sure to carry the volume so that the title and author were prominently visible.

To Market, To Market

Sat, 24 May 2008 16:12:49 GMT

To market, to market to buy a fat pig;
Home again, home again, jiggety-jig.
To market, to market, to buy a fat hog;
Home again, home again, jiggety-jog.

To market, to market, to buy a plum cake;
Home again, home again, market is late.
To market, to market, to buy a plum bun;
Home again, home again, market is done.

To market, to market, a gallop a trot,
To buy some meat to put in the pot;
Three pence a quarter, a groat a side,
If it hadn't been killed it must have died

Spring. Mostly.

Thu, 22 May 2008 05:38:01 GMT