Cloudy, Conflicted, Confounded

I have been haunted today. I have been haunted with my feelings on the Internet and our limitless ability to communicate in a way we never could before the explosion of the cyber universe.

You can hide being a false name and pose as someone you are not. You can say things you would never have the courage (or decency) to say if you didn't have your monitor and mouse to hide behind. You can bridge the distance of geographical space and talk with those who are worlds away. You can unload the contents of your soul for strangers to read, judge, and contemplate. You create a surreal universe that mirrors reality.

I don't know if I think this is a good thing. Does it prevent us from holding a real and lasting connection to a breathing, living human being? Does it turn your life into a masked ball and no one takes their masks off? Does it disorient you in such a way that you become inadequate for something real?

I feel blinded.

No, No, No

This is going to be a quick one, because I fear if I go off too far on this topic it will undoubtedly spiral out of control.

I went to Krogers today because they have cheese on sale this week-10 for $10 for all shredded, brick, sliced and cubed cheese. You can not pass this deal up, especially when you are a)unemployed and b) a lacto-ovo vegetarian. During my trip, I unearthed a fine deal for Gatorade-same price. You can't beat those deals with a stick!

Man. Do you ever actually look around when you are at the grocery store? Sure, I don't usually get all "dolled up" to pick out cheese, but there are some fundamental standards that should be followed when entering into a public arena. I will start a short list of things that make me say "No, No, No".

**Racerback tank tops with regular bra straps
**White slacks with white underpants (you know, they do make nude underpants) (and wearing a white thong does not work. Your pantyline is just transformed into an ass-crack highway of white)
**Any pair of pants/shorts that have something printed on the seat
**Housecoats (unless you are too heavy to wear normal clothing or you are recovering from surgery)
**Slippers in public
**Pajama pants as a fashion statement
**Tube socks pulled up to the knee with black dress shoes
**Soiled clothing

I feel the need to gather up these folks and provide them with tips to better grocery store fashion. Sure, it isn't a runway, but people are shopping for food. You need to consider that your choices in apparel might turn them off of food.

ps- just a note...the word "underpants" is not in the blogger dictionary!

I am a Clementine

Hopefully my dear readers are familiar with the film Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. If you have not seen it, I suggest you do, and then allow yourself to read this entry-because it is a spoiler.

Joel and Clementine have broken up. Their relationship was a lifeless existence where they were sucking the life out of one another’s souls. In a fit of anger, Clementine decides to undergo a procedure that will erase every memory and association she has relating to her partnership with Joel. Once Joel discovers what Clementine has done, he decides to undergo the same procedure to spite her. In the process of his memory elimination Joel realizes his memories are precious and he doesn’t want to lose Clementine. The procedure does work and his memories are erased. But, even after his memories have been erased, he seeks out Clementine and they rediscover the spark that joined them in the first place. In a cruel twist of fate the truth is revealed to the couple-they had once been in love and came to a stagnant and fermenting state. In the face of this discovery, they decide to give it another try.

I would argue the fundamental question that the film poses is- If given the opportunity, would you erase painful memories of a failed relationship?

I think most people come down on the side of one camp or the other. You would erase the memories that hurt you most, or you hold those memories dear and know they shaped you into the person you are today.

Well, I am a member of Clementine’s camp. I want to erase them all. I want to erase all the hurt along with the joy because I can’t seem to appreciate the joy enough to counteract the hurt. In nearly every arena of my life I like to call my self a hopeful optimist, but in relationships I think I am a magical optimist. I have an intuitive feeling that I can help that person transform into what they might like to be, or what I see them as. This has back fired a couple of times. Truthfully, it has failed every time. And, if the memory machine came rolling down my block, I would be the first person to sign up. I would prefer my memories cast no shadow on my daily life. I don’t want to see what is behind me, or what is in front of me, I only want to see what is here right now. I would erase my memories with the knowledge that maybe they could happen again-like they do in the film-because I would rather be haunted by my present choices instead of my past mistakes.

A strange stance from a seemingly sentimental girl.

The Stream of Consciousness

I was speed reading Mrs. Dalloway for class tonight. I wasn't really all that excited about reading the book, because I find that I am not a fan of stream of consciousness novels. But, after finishing it, I have to say I was surprised to find that I didn't find it all that painful.

A few years ago, I read Michael Cunningham's Mrs. Dalloway inspired novel The Hours. I loved that novel right from the very beginning. Both novels take place over the course of one day in the characters lives. The difference between the two is that The Hours seems to have a plot and you learn enough of the characters that you feel invested; you want to know what happens to them. I didn't find this same joy when I read Woolf's novel, but it got me thinking.

If some poor student found themselves immersed in my thoughts all day, they too would discover a pretty boring read. Sure, there are little morsels throughout my daily thought pattern that could be considered remotely interesting, but normally it is a pot full of circular thoughts bubbling to the surface in a random fashion. In Dalloway, the reader has the opportunity to enter more than one person's mind frame as the narrative structure invites us into various passer-by's and acquaintances of Mrs. Dalloway. That being said-the book was still pretty boring. I think that it is fitting because really, life is pretty boring. There have been a slim number of days that strike me as truly monumental. Sad to say I would be hard pressed to fill a single page with days that would titillate a reader. It is fitting that Mrs. Dalloway was actually not all that spectacular. I find the adding up of days and the outcome of choices to be the real story.

Lyrics That Speak

A few months ago I went searching for a sense of identity. My search led me to my some of my favorite songs. I started to compile a mix of songs that I felt defined who I am, or who I was at some point in my life. The unifying theme in many of the songs was a certain lyric that resonated and spoke to a part of my unconscious. Some silly, some sad, and some just plain destructive-but somehow, over the years, I felt like I lived a moment in time that was best explained by a few words that some other person put to music. Here are a few of them...

The Captain-by Kasey Chambers
"I've kicked myself at times because I've lied. So I will have to learn to stand my ground. I'll tell him I won't be around. I'll move on over to your town and hide."

Least Complicated- By The Indigo Girls
"What makes me think I can start clean slated? The hardest to learn was the least complicated."

Spring Street-By Dar Williams
"Can I blow this town? Make a big sound- like a star of a film or a postcard. Can I just forget the frames that I shared with you?"

Snow is Gone- by Josh Ritter
"I'd rather be the one who loves, than to be loved and never and even know."

12 Bellevue- by Kathleen Edwards
"I'm not gonna smile. All this shit's that's happened is gonna take a while. And I don't wanna be your friend-just take off your clothes and get into my bed."
"I put a hole in your heart and then fed it to you."
"I'm gonna choose, cuz in the end either way I still lose. And I'm not gonna wait. I was thinking about drinking my way through today."

High and Dry- by Radiohead
"Drying up in conversation, you will be the one who cannot talk. All your insides fall to pieces-you just sit there wishing you could still make love."

Anna Begins-by Counting Crows
"This time, the kindness falls like rain-it washes her away. And Anna begins to change her mind. The seconds when I am shaking leave me shuddering for days."
"Maybe I should snap her up in a butterfly net, pin her down on a photograph album."
"This time, the kindness falls like rain-it washes me away. And Anna begins to change my mind. Every time she sneezes I believe it's love. O lord, I am not ready for this sort of thing."
"Her kindness bangs a gong."

Thunder Road- by Bruce Springsteen
"Roll down the window and let the wind blow back your hair. Well the nights busted open, these two lanes can take us anywhere."
"Come take my hand, we're riding out tonight case the promised land."
"And I know you're lonely, those words I ain't spoken. Tonight we'll be free, all the promises will be broken."

I Don't Wanna Talk About It- Emmylou Harris
"God knows how I love you-like a user needs a drug. And I'll never be free of it, you are poison in my blood."
"God know why you don't want me-no one would do the things I do. But to my grave it's gonna haunt me-how I got down on my knees for you. You're my obsession, and the reason that I live. You already got my soul- there's nothing left to give."

The Only Thing- Nine Inch Nails
"I'm drunk. And right now I'm so in love with you. And I don't want to think too much about what we should and shouldn't do."

Lodestar-by Sarah Harmer
"Listen, the darkness rings"

Forgiveness- by Patty Griffin
"It's hard to give-it's hard to get-but everybody needs a little forgiveness."

She-by Over the Rhine
"What's so special about you? You're ache she's learned to crave-you're a blade to dull to raise. But she cuts herself on you every night. She's just dying to lay down the knife"
"She clings to what's familiar. She thinks the change-will kill her."

Touch Me With Your Love-by Beth Orton
"I dreamed of you last night-you had a different face or maybe just a haircut."

Blues Run the Game- written by Jackson Frank
"Where ever I have gone-the blues run the game"
"Living is a gamble baby-loving is much the same."

Away-by Kathleen Edwards
"Memory is a terrible thing....when you use it right."
"Do you pick up your phone? Do you check your mail? Do you answer your door, even if it's late? Cuz I don't know who to call, I don't know who to write. And I think I forgot what your face looks like."

River-by Joni Mitchell
"I wish I had river I could skate away on-I made my baby cry."

Everything is Free by- Gillian Welch
"Everyday I wake up, humming a song. But I don't need to run around, I just stayed home. Sing a little love song-my lover, myself. If there's something you wanna hear- you can sing it yourself."

Nobody's Crying- by Patty Griffin
"May you dream you are dreaming in a warm, soft bed. May voices inside you that fill you with dread, make the sounds of voices of thousands of angels instead-tonight where you might be laying your head."

In Your Eyes-by Peter Gabriel
"When I want to run away, I drive off in my car. But, whichever way I go, I come back to the place you are."

Farewell- by Rosie Thomas
"I never asked you for a sailboat and an island, that fancy dress to wear, a ceiling made of stars-all I got is this broken heart from you."

The Dangling Conversation- by Simon and Garfunkel
"And we note our place with bookmarkers-that measure what we've lost."
"I only kiss your shadow, I cannot feel your hand. You're a stranger now unto me. Lost in the dangling conversation, and the superficial sighs in the borders of our lives.

Something I Can Never Have-by Nine Inch Nails
"This thing is slowly taking me apart. Gray would be the color-if I had a heart."

Come Pick Me Up-by Ryan Adams
"When they call your name will you walk right up with a smile on your face? Will you cower in fear, in your favorite sweater-with an old love letter?"
"When you're walking downtown-do you wish I was there-do you wish it was me?"
"I wish you'd make up my bed, so I could make up my mind. Try it for sleeping instead-maybe you'll rest sometime."

All I Want Is You-by U2
"All the promises we make, from the cradle to the grave-when all I want is you."

Forgiven-by Deb Talan
"You make rift inside me everyday-that you chose to stay"
"It's time to go-I can not stay-you cannot know. My love, so dear-will it be faith, or fear?"

The Darkest Season-by Deb Talan
"I just feel the empty space-I just feel the wind blow through-I just thought in any case, I would always know you."

Reasons To Lie-by Whiskeytown
"Then there wouldn't be somebody else that you would grow accustomed to."

Tenderness-by Deb Talan
"But we made a mess and that is how we will be remembered here."

Good Things-by Kathleen Edwards
"I got a long, long list of things-no one needs to see."
"Don't get down-good things come when you stop waiting around. Good things come when you stop looking. Don't get down-you've just gotta stop looking."
"There are some things I used to be-won't you find the will just to remind me? Because you are so safe inside my memory; and the scar underneath my knee."

Useless Desires-by Patty Griffin
"Every day I take a bitter pill-it gets me on my way. For the little aches and pains the ones I have from day to day. Helps me think a little less, about the things I missed-to help me not to wonder how I ended up like this."
"Somewhere beyond the bitter end is where I wanna be."

Where Does the Good Go?-by Tegan and Sara
"Look me in the heart and tell me you wont go. Look me in the eye and promise no love is like our love. Look me in the heart and un-break broken."
"How do you live so happily while I am sad and broken down?"

The Little Pink Card

This weekend I found myself over at Vanessa's for a bonfire, one that began after midnight. In a comfy cocoon of new people and interesting conversation, I stayed past dawn, and left after 8am. My sleep is messed up now, to say the least. Thankfully Sunday night I fell asleep at 2am and woke at 1pm on Monday. I did wake at 8am to use the ladies and then found myself in the deepest and most wonderful sleep session I have experienced in months, and maybe even in years.

I woke up, rolled over, grabbed a pen and a little pink note card and wrote this: It is not what's happened, but it's how you have lived. I did write a sentence that preceded it, but I can't make out what it says. I have taken to keeping a small notified, or note cards at the empty space beside my side of the bed. I find that right before I fall asleep I seem to have revelations that feel very important. Sometimes these nuggets are recipes, the first line of a poem, an idea for a short story, or simply an item I need from the store. But, I feel empowered by this new habit. I found previously I felt paralyzed by the thoughts that plagued my mind as I drifted to a sleep state. It actually prevented me from sleeping. After I fashioned the note taking supplies beside me, I regained control.

I have been thinking about what I wrote down all day. I can honestly say that some of my actions over the course of my life have brought me an insurmountable amount of shame. I wonder if I am a "good person" if I chose to conduct myself in a certain fashion. I know that if I took a moment to give myself a break, I would see that I am human. Humans do make mistakes. Humans have the capacity to forgive. But, I reserve mistakes and forgiveness for others when I need to learn to grant those gracious gestures to myself. I think that might have been what I was trying to tell myself in my dream. I know that when I woke I felt very peaceful, as if maybe I had just coaxed my inner child out of her hiding space and treated her to the worlds most loving embrace.

So, the lesson for the day is "It is not what happened, but it's how you've lived." I am happy to welcome this idea and hope to find a way to incorporate it into my life.

Looking to please...

Calling out to all my pals....

Lately I have been dying to make mix CD's for my friends. So in my insomnia ridden late nights, I've been cooking up some mixes. Sometimes in the morning I can't even remember what CD's I made :-) There is something that seems so special about developing that special setlist to create the perfect blend of songs. I tend to start off strong, get a little funky or funny, and then it slowly winds down with more reflective tunes. It is rare that a big rocker finishes off one of my CD's, I like to find the melancholy to seal the deal.

This post is a shout out to those who are looking for a new disc to fall in love with. Let me know what type of mood you'd like to enjoy, maybe an artist you'd like to hear a little more of, and I can try to cook something up. You know I aim to please your ears!

555-1342

Say Anything is my all-time favorite movie. There is nothing that compares to it. For you folks that love it like I do, you might find delightful little moments in your mundane everyday existence where you experience what I would like to call "A Lloyd Dobbler" moment.

Have any of you seen that commercial where two men pull up to car with two ladies and the woman spouts off her phone number?? Has anyone noticed that this phone number she gives out is Lloyd Dobbler's?!?

When Lloyd calls Diane Court, and gets Jim Court instead, he leaves his phone number... 555-1342.

I guess he must have moved, and this woman in the 2006 commercial took his number.

"hello, lover"

Ahh....sigh....How I miss Carrie Bradshaw.....

Six years ago I was living in Maryland and I was very lonely. I didn't have any friends in my new state and found that I spent most of my time alone. I found I rented many, many movies to keep me company. One Friday night I discovered Sex and the City on DVD. I had heard about the breakout show, but I had not yet had the opportunity to see it for myself. I took a chance, I rented the duo of DVD's and headed home.

It took only an episode. I was in love. It was late that Friday night, and by the time I finished watching every single episode of the season, there was daylight and it was Saturday. I had been transformed into a new woman. I instantly loved high heels, I longed for a trio of girlfriends to share my secrets with and I wondered if I would ever find a man of intrigue just like Mr. Big.

This new obsession started my relationship with cable television. I was raised in a house without cable TV, but I now I had a need to have HBO. The only good thing about the cancellation of SATC was that I no longer needed to have cable. For the next few years, I would subscribe to HBO and those smart little suckers would then introduce other shows for me to love. They were smart enough to piggy-back the shows so I couldn't seem to cancel my cable-there was always a show to watch. Today I am thankful for my Mother's On-Demand cable so I can catch a Soparano's episode at a whim.

During the sixth season of Sex, I had moved to Chicago and I was broke. There were only six more episodes to watch, and my other shows were on hiatus. I couldn't justify signing up for cable (actually my bank account couldn't justify it). Again I was in a new state, without anyone I could meet up with to watch SATC, and I needed to take action to secure my fix. I provided my Father with VHS tapes and 6 self addressed padded envelopes, complete with appropriate postage, so he could send me my beloved program. Because Chicago mail service sucks, it would take three days for my tape to show up. On Wednesday evenings, I would return from work and rush to my mailbox to retrieve my tape. My goodness. I loved those Wednesdays. I think I might have loved my Father even more than I already did for sending those tapes!

I found myself in Michigan the weekend of the final show involved in a less than exciting short term relationship. We had went to the mall on Sunday afternoon, and in our tour of the mall he seemed less than thrilled that I was there. He seemed a little more interested in getting me to his place for a little home cooked dinner and "somethin'-somethin". I was less than thrilled with this idea, but he had HBO and I figured I could take care of business in time for the final 45 minutes of my show. I had to make sacrifices! This was Carrie and Big's big reunion! I heard we would find out Big's first name!

On the ride home, I realized that even with the prospect of seeing the series finale live was not worth spending another milli-second with this ninny. So, once we arrived back at the house, I said I wasn't feeling too swift and I need to start my drive home. It was 6pm and I needed to find a TV with HBO. I began my trip towards Chicago and hatched a plan to see my show. In Battle Creek, I stopped at the Motel 6 and secured one of their luxurious suites. I paid about 40 bucks for this honor. I went out and bought some showtime treats, a bucket of spaghetti (the vegetarian solution to fried chicken) and settled in for the show. The irony had not escaped me that for the price I was spending on this room, I could have paid for cable at home.

I watched the show. I cried. I missed my friends that are scattered across the United States. I loved the ending and was so happy. I felt like I had just hugged my best friends goodbye as they boarded a plane that would never return. I learned so much from the show and tonight when I saw a tiny snippet from the episode on 20/20 where Carrie is shoe shopping for her last "Big night in New York" (the one where she approaches the Christian Louboutin pink pumps and greets them with a "hello, lover") I remembered how much I missed the show. I also realized I miss having reasons to wear incredibly beautiful high heels. I remembered all over again how much I miss my friends being close by. I also realized I haven't met my Mr. Big, but there is plenty of time for that.

In times of trouble, when I am feeling down, or hopeless, or need direction, I consult SATC. I pop in one of the DVD's and it transports me to a place of comfort. At this juncture, I believe I could run the dialogue along with the actors. The familiarity of the show is an old friend that helps to reset any uneasiness I am feeling. I credit the show for allowing me to welcome my 30's with open arms. Those ladies made being in your 30's look like the best decade ever. And, I will eternally grateful for this show, I think it has been one of the most reliable, loving, and fun relationship of my entire life.

The Front Page

When I was in the 2nd grade I used to keep a daily diary. This baby was detailed. At eight I was already obsessed with food consumption and kept track of everything I ate. Sad thing was, I thought lemonade was juice. This is actually a subject for a separate entry, and subsequent entries about my childhood. I will attempt to not turn my blog into "Running with Scissors-Marla Style". So, back to the diary. I was I love with a young man named Andy P. I will afford him some anonymity here, and not use his last name. Andy was a babe. I might have called him a fox at the time-afterall it was 1984. I followed him all over the playground every day at recess. I tried to play hard-to-get, but he didn't really seem to catch onto the "get" part, so I abandoned that strategy. I remember very clearly cooking up a plan in my diary about showing him what a woman I was, and going into embarrassing detail on how I would kiss him. You have to wonder where in the hell an eight year old girl comes up with this crap. I know kids are probably having sex in elementary school broom closets at this point, but things weren't like that back then. I kept track of my plan daily in the diary and never forgot to include that daily serving of juice.

The day came when I chased Andy P at recess, tripped him, and laid a big old smootch on him. He spit at me. It really didn't go as I had planned. He was not impressed by my womanly wiles. I was mortified and confused...How could he not like me! I liked him!! Couldn't he look beyond the buck teeth and frizzy hair and see we were meant to be together? The answer is no. No, he couldn't see our connection. He was the first in a very long line of Andy's who didn't feel the connection. I am always leary when I meet an Andy, I couldn't imagine living through the Andy P. Nightmare again.

Dear Diary was stolen a few days later. An older idiot read it aloud on the playground. I just about died. I might have been more embarrassed since I did have a crush on half the damn school and now they all knew to steer clear, because I wanted to prove my womanly traits by slobbering on each and every one.

I went home demolished. My Mom was kind enough to take me under her wing of knowledge and explain that "You should never write anything down that you wouldn't want on the front page of the Free Press." This is a fine lesson. Funny thing is, I don't plan on sharing this blog with any member who shares a blood relation with me. Is this like the diary? I am scared. How much do you want people to know? Should I create a secret blog for all the crap I don't want people to know?? These are big questions when you have nothing better to worry about...

Hey, if the Free Press feels like printing me at this date, I welcome the invite.

TMI

i pretty much lack a filter. there is rarely a situation that i can say i subscribe to the idea of TMI (too much information). but, i have just been faced with a serious TMI issue that needs to be addressed. i will express this violation in an open letter:

dear advertising folks,

there is no reason to explain how your tampon is different because of they way it blows up in the body. there is no acceptable time to discuss a burning itch, or unpleasant odor on my television set. and further more, there is no excuse to show any young woman dancing around rejoicing her cycle.

i am a girl. i read girl magazines. boys don't read those. please share the intimate details of your product's ingenuity in an arena that only females will see. i would like to keep unattractive details of my canal shrouded in secrecy. let's all just pretend that neighborhood full of puppies and roses and playground fun. we should leave the decay and discomfort out of the story. it doesn't make for good press. no one will want to visit this garden if you are disclosing its dirty laundry.

thanks for listening,
trixie belden

soulmate shopping at home depot

at target i had run into lady #1 (definition: "the ladies" is a self titled group of my friends my former career. we are all redheads and refer to ourselves in the third person. i think everyone who isn't a member of "the ladies" finds the whole idea obnoxious, but i could care less). anyway, when i saw lady #1 at target, i half jokingly said "i have to run over to home depot because i am shopping for a soulmate." she laughed at me. not really with me, kind of at me. i guess that is what happens when you have already found your soulmate-you think people are foolish for wandering around scouting for a soulmate wearing invisible soulmate fly paper.

i digress.....

i roll into the home depot, forgetting all about my soulmate shopping agenda and make a bee-line for the paint department. i have been working on a craft project that dictates the theft of paint chip sheets from local home improvement warehouses. i avoid any eye contact with anyone in the store because i fear they will catch on that i am piling 20 or 30 of these paint chips into my purse and i will hear some coded page on the loud speaker telling their loss prevention professionals about the thief in paint and decorating.

i notice an older lady (and i mean OLDER) yelling at her husband because he isn't following her closely enough to suit her. the have to be in their 90's. i wonder who drove this couple, because their coordination of foot-to-floor is questionable to say the least. i realize maybe being single isn't so bad. at least i don't have to yell at anyone at the store, (my ex-husband can tell you all about that enticing trait) i always felt crappy for doing that. i have sworn that i wouldn't do that to another person again. i am squinting at the tiny font on each paint chip and i can feel someone invading my personal space. i can also smell that my space has been invaded and i have fear stirring inside me. i turn and discover mr. older lady is standing there, smiling-almost all gums. he is pointing at my skirt. i know that he is about to speak and i really am not interested in finding out what nugget he is about to share. but, i am a helpless to stop him. mostly because i am polite and believe i wear a sign on my back that says "looking for inappropriate relationships and stalkers." in truth- i am asking for trouble by leaving the house.

"sldfjaoei9uroiujlkfmsmg, wiejroiagh aoeiuroihg" was what i think he said. i smiled and nodded and gave up a coy little laugh. i was just hoping he would walk away and we wouldn't really have to start a conversation. but, when one is soulmate shopping at the home depot, i guess one does not have choice of suitors, one just accepts their beloved. moving on.... the gist of what "mr. older lady" wanted me to know was this-he likes skirts. his wife always wear skirts (he pointed to her in demonstration) and that is why he likes them. he went on to tell me that he knows he is going to die soon due to a weak heart and i just proved he would live another day. he told me that i made his heart race, but he didn't drop dead and that was a good thing. i proceeded to do more of the smiling/nodding and thought it was pretty sweet. i figure you have to start somewhere right? first comes the gents on deaths door, and then maybe something a little less perishable? one can only hope.

not to kick a gift horse in the mouth, but, i ask you this...where were the gentlemen in their late 20's or early 30's, who aren't married, or with a girlfriend, without a set of matching baggage, and all of their teeth? those are the soulmates i am looking for. so, calling all soulmate potentials.....check out the paint aisle at your local home depot for a skirt-wearing, paint-chip-shopping gal. and please, don't report her to security for stealing. our life together shouldn't begin with bailing me out of jail.

beware...

the day started off quite nicely. i woke up in a good mood. it was cool and sunny. teeny, my local neighborhood cat, had come to visit me and seemed as if she had never been more happy to see anyone. my cats didn't even attempt a throw-down at the screen door when teeny was getting loads of love in the backyard. so, after deciding i didn't really need a shower today i set off to run errands. the rounds included: target, the craft store, the post office, and the library. all was right in the world and it has been a decent long while since i felt like that. and then....something seemed to take over and i got cranky.

i had made early dinner arrangements with my grandma and had about 45 miles of road to cover before my journey was over. this sweet stretch of land did not include a freeway, so it was all side streets. that was fine by me because i had a little tom petty action singing to me sweetly. i realized i didnt have a penny on me and since i had lost my check card yesterday, (during an unfortunate incident involving messing around with the card in a seam of my trunk, while i pumped gas, sipped a diet coke and yammered on my cell phone) i realized i was kinda screwed because i was thirsty. i wheeled into the bank to cash a check i had in my car and the teller insisted on a second piece of ID. (this was my bank! i had my drivers license! come on lady!) this miffed me-hardcore. i got sassy and demanded to know why she needed it. after witch-ing out at the teller, i concluded that a drive-thru would be a poor choice. i could tell i was beginning to get a little unstable and wondered if maybe dinner with Barb was a bad idea??

well, as i am sure the non-scholars among you can predict....it was a bad idea. little miss cranky-cakes (that is me if you did not figure that out) was a royal brat during dinner. i felt like a two year old trapped in the shell of a 29 year old. after dinner i explained i was feeling sick and thought i should head home and not visit my mother who is recovering from back surgery. Barb asked me 4 separate times if i wanted a mint to settle my stomach. she was lucky i didnt try to strangle her from across the table. after asking three times, she reached in her purse and produced the mint container-why?-i don't really know-perhaps she thought the blue plastic case would be so enticing that i would jump at the chance to suck down one of those minty treats! wrong-o! i literally ran from the restaurant because i feared i might say something so appalling that my grandma would disown me. i could tell i was losing it, and quickly. on my very long, traffic filled drive home, i popped in this cd i had found in my grandma's basement and tried to relax. it was this sordid humor cd from 1994 and it felt good to revisit "light music for dying people". i had forgotten that adam duritz, the lead singer for counting crows, sung backup vocals on this cd. when his voice popped up like a long lost friend- i started to cry..

and then i realized what my problem was.....

i have pms.

crazy, horomonally unbalanced, mean, unpredictable PMS.

i was getting a little concerned and i instantly felt better when i realized my inner demon will only be here for about a day or two and then the blue skies and sweet mood will return. the return might be accompanied by PMS' close pals "mind-numbing cramps" and "the jfk headache" (my mom describes this headache as one that makes one feel as if the back of their head has been blown off) at least i will be in a better mood.

i came home, shut off my phone, and baked some chocolate chip cookies. i am in self imposed lock down to protect all who love me from my evil behaviors. i am staying away from the television, just in case a hallmark commercial is in rotation. hallmark commercials are a girl's worst enemy during this fragile time.

normally i read my horror-scope (i like to call it that because it sounds more fun!) every morning, but i didnt today. when i read it tonight, it cracked me up.

Everything looks great when you wake up today, but situations might start to unravel as the day progresses. You don't have to worry too much about it -- the unraveling is a symptom of the changes and growth you're going through, and it's to be expected. But when things get unstable, you should be prepared. Get your priorities in order so if you need to act quickly, you can. You might have to cancel some fun evening plans to take care of business.

Old Friends

Last week I took a friend over to meet my Grandma. He couldn't wait to put a face to the countless stories that she has inspired. Barb (my Grandma) is a woman that instantly sets a stranger at ease. The moment you meet her she makes immediate connection. Typically it is with a comment on your appearance (she loves your hair, your outfit, the length of your eyelashes) and instantly you love her. She is a special lady and I doubt there is a person in her entourage that would disagree. This afternoon was no different, and after about five minutes, Barb had added another dedicated member to her fan club. It came as no surprise to me.

We enjoyed a little dinner and conversation. Barb proceeded with a full interview and got to know her new friend. I always find it amusing how quickly she gathers information about some of the most intimate details of people's lives. I listened carefully as she extracted my pal's life story and found that even though I already knew most of the details, I gained a better understanding of why we were friends. Barb brings out the best and most vulnerable in people and I think that is why people love her instantly. She creates a safe cocoon and gains your trust. This is a fine trait.

We moved onto the living room and I pulled out a few of her old photo albums to show off some childhood photos. Inevitably I came across photos from her younger days, when she was a fetching blonde with the world's brightest smile. There was this beautiful photo of her in a satin ball gown that paled in comparison to anything Grace Kelly ever wore. She began to reminisce about the picture and it spun into a tale....

Grandma worked at the gas company after high school. She lived at home with her parents because she spent every penny of her check-and a few from her mothers pocketbook-on luxuries. The year was 1954 and Barb was at the height of fashion. Every week she had her hair and nails done. She shopped at Hudsons for all her clothes, along with matching hats, shoes, and a lipstick or two. The photo we had discovered depicted a trip she had taken to NYC and stayed with her galpals at the Waldorf-Astoria. One of her friends on the trip was a woman named Elaine. Elaine was pretty much the polar opposite of Barb. She was frugal, saved money, didn't have her hair set each Friday. Although they were very different ladies, a bond formed between them. Long after Grandma's days of fancy dresses and taking a cab to work to avoid the rain, (she traded this lifestyle for diapers and catholic school tuition for her four children), Elaine and Grandma remained friends. They had their own lives as adults, and didn't see one another often, but their bond of being young and careless was a delightful touchstone they loved visiting whenever they had the chance. In their 50's they set Vegas on fire in kitschy rhinestoned outfits and with laughs of old times. The bond was there, even when they were states away from one another.

A few weeks ago Grandma heard from Elaine's daughter, and learned her friend was in very poor health and nearing the end. Elaine was insistent that she did not want visitors to see her in this condition, so Grandma asked if she could maybe writer her a letter. Elaine's daughter thought it was a wonderful idea, and Grandma took her time writing her dear friend a final letter. Grandma is no stranger to losing people she loves, and it seems that it is happening too frequently. But, in her strong and stoic style she sent the letter off in the mail and sealed it with love (and a kiss- I always imagine she seals all letters with kisses)

Elaine's daughter called when the letter came, but, not with good news. Elaine had passed before the letter reached her. Grandma was just devastated. Even Elaine's letter would never reach her, the sentiment was not lost. After her daughter got off the phone with Grandma, she went into her Mom's room to tell her about the conversation. At this point Elaine wasn't able to speak and that was why her daughter had called Grandma. Her daughter told Grandma that she took her mother's hand and told her that Grandma sent her love and was going to write her a letter. When Elaine heard the news she smiled and began to cry. Elaine's daughter told Grandma that she took the letter and placed it in her mother's casket.

Now, there are a million stories I could tell to demonstrate the incredible capacity my Grandma has to make people feel loved and trusted. But, this was one of those times that I felt so proud to have her as one of the best examples of vulnerability and compassion that you could ever hope for. An hour or so after she met my friend, she sat in her chair and revealed a very personal story. She opened up her heart in front of someone most would have considered a stranger. As she told this tale, she began to cry, and I remembered why she is so special-this lady loves like no other.

It is a week later and this story has weighed heavily on my mind. It reminded me of the Simon and Garfunkel song "Old Friends". This was always one of my favorites of theirs because it evokes this feeling of loss inside of me. The song is about two friends and their bond over a life-long friendship. Every time I heard the song as a teenager, I would wonder what my friendship with my best friend would be like as we grew older. Vanessa was my closest confidant and I think she might have loved Simon and Garfunkel just as much as I did, and heck, maybe more. In our years together, I never once heard her sing-and I don't think I ever stopped singing. Time passed, we went in different directions, but each time I hear a bar of S&G it is like she is right beside me. Today is her birthday. I haven't talked to her in over a year and I feel so guilty, because she is on my mind all the time. After I heard the story of Grandma and Elaine, I realized it was time to reach out because the days will keep on rushing by and life is too short to not take the time.

There is a little reprise to "Old Friends" called the "Bookends Theme". The lyrics are-

Time it was and what a time it was
It was a time of innocence, a time of confidences.
Long ago, it must be, I have a photograph-
Preserve your memories, their all that's left you.

So, Happy Birthday old friend. My memories of youthful innocence and your laughter are getting a little faded, we should find a way to freshen them sometime very soon.