Time descends on me

In conjunction with the full moon, the heat is all Tennessee Williams and shit. It's the kind of hot that makes you want to talk with a drawl, and sit in a flowery dress amongst the gladiolas and Lilies. Okay maybe not, but it sure doesn't give me any desire to get my vegetable garden weeded, or do anything that would make my skin stick to a surface.

When I was young, I had horrible insomnia, especially in the summer months. I would lay awake, sometimes watch TV if I could muster the energy to go down and watch the slim pickings that were available late at night.

Last night Jack, who is once again experiencing a fast and uncomfortable heartbeat, could not sleep, so I gave him my most secret weapon for attempted peaceful slumber. I told him to switch positions and sleep at the other end of his bed, nary a sound was heard after that, because it is the last resort and it does work, but you can't do it early in the game or it looses it's value and effect.

About that place

I've been dishonest; with myself and readers. I don't want to work with the public anymore, the unknown element of what is in store with each encounter is becoming increasingly negative and basically unnerving.
I'm tired of being called names, sighed on scowled and leered at. Sure it happens to all of us here and probably everywhere people come together, but the scales have tipped with the encounters that are negative far outweighing the ones that are normal or routine. The new normal is not at all commonplace or standard, it's fucked up and crazy, which leaves us all feeling a little worn and chafed. Jack said to me, when I told him I was thinking of a career change, "but what about all the cool stuff you bring home?" And my response, "we are still allowed to go to the library, even if I don't work there." But of course, we will be civilians which changes the dynamic and means saying goodbye to the velvet rope.

Unidentified third world athelete

I don't want to do this sometimes. Sit out in the open, in a public setting being vulnerable to everything and anything that people want from me. It's not so much my physical safety as my mental health and well being. It could be just a passing thing, and probably will fade, but for now I keep checking my back, wishing I had a big round mirror above my head and to the left for me to eye.
Eamon slept in Jake's room last night, I've been punching him when he snores which is every time he breathes. So, I of course felt lost and stared off into the blur of the window with contact-less eyes knowing I had wished for the quiet but not for the empty space which Echo promptly filled, snoring the night away.

Echoes of things

When I've joined groups, such as book discussions, politically minded, or therapy oriented assemblage, I always find myself doing an awful lot of talking, I have a compulsion to fill in the silence, hours before it could ever become uncomfortable. Okay so as a self admitted talkie, I still don't understand how it is that people come to discuss yet sit there silently.
There was a class that I took in college, it was a workshop which meant it was worth many credits and it was two hours there times a week. After the first week where three other people showed up, I was the only one that attended, so it was myself and the professor for two hours three times a week for 12 weeks. NOW that, is uncomfortable to the millionth power.
Last night as I led a book discussion with three people, of which one had finished the book, and I was pulling out entrails to get people to participate in some way, I thought to myself, all I want in the world is to go home and have a tootsie roll pop and read Michael Chabon's new book and listen to the voices in my head rather then the ones that aren't talking here.

And the big black birds gathered in the sky

I can be impulsive and at times stupid, but when I manage to access those two facets at the same time, that's when I know it's going to leave a mark. I have done it in the past, when I was pregnant with Jake and we were casually looking for a new vehicle, there was a car dealership selling off repossessed trucks, and giving away hot dogs and pop; needless to say we drove out of there with a pickup truck with jump seats which is not the best choice when you're becoming a starter family, but hey the dogs were smokin good.
Recently, I've noticed that because things are seemingly on a comfortable plain, I'm unconsciously looking for a way to sabotage the relative ease of the day. So, I've caught myself when I thought I would add a yard sale to this next week when Bill and I have walls to paint and other various jobs to finish up, but there is always that need or desire to fuck things up just a little; it's lurking along the edges, and as we know with age the peripheral vision goes first, so any minute I should be bringing home a new dog.

then you really might know

There are a number of people who think it's the natural course of events that if you have a dog or cat with issues, you "put them to sleep." I asked Eamon last night, right when he was on the brink of sleep and awake, did he think that killing a dog that didn't live up to our standards, was something he felt comfortable with. It seemed that I may have asked too late because the answer was a few minutes coming, and frankly, that response was going to mean a great deal to me; the person who washes the carpets endlessly, takes all canines to appointments, pulled up aforementioned nasty ass carpet, spent the last two weeks prepping and readying the floors for round two. He said, and I was pretty sure that his answer would be thus, he said, " I don't think people should"; snore. There is one thing I have besides for a short attention span and high hopes, and that is......timing.

Nocturnal son of a gun

How is it that so many bad movies get made that cost millions of dollars, use a lot of talent and suck beyond words. Catch and Release was last nights joyfest. It featured Kevin Smith, as the fat guy who was contracted to eat in every scene, oh that is so funny when the fat guy is always eating, he just keeps eating, he's the fat guy. WTF! Kevin smith makes reasonably good movies, he's funny and should have better sense then to subject himself to acting in the worst movie of the year, but apparently, he was paid in pizza, cause he's the fat guy.
Eamon was home from work today with a messed up neck, I bought him the movie Rules of the Game to watch. It's the best movie ever made, there's a fat guy in it, Jean Renoir but he's also the director and son of the painter, he doesn't eat much in the movie, he just makes everything okay and or even better.

Put your lights on

I don't know if it's actually an affliction to be addicted to my ipod, but it's all I want to do. I'm more than a teenage mom when I have it, I'm a zombie teenage mom, who just wants to look off into the distance of my wallpaper border and get lost in the music. I've got a pile of movies, books, magazines children, dogs, husband, boyfriends, friends, countrymen, all sorts of things that I just leave to their own devices while I auscultate. Music makes me want to be still or dance and or walk fast with much pronounced gait. I'm happy it still floats my vessel after all of these years, but in some ways I admit to being socially retarded and yet still full of expectation and hope.

Love for real

Bill and I carried 600 pounds of laminate, twice, no three times today. So I guess that means we had 1800 pounds of choice DuPont chemicals in our mitts. I've been pulling up carpet, padding, staples and all to the tune of dog pee stink for the last three days.
What now am I going to do with the Griffin, I can't justify spending tons of money, carrying tons or almost that, of fake wood and paying for it, and for it to be put down on the less stinky floor now that I've painted it with Kilz ,for the canine to do it all over again.
He knows the proverbial shit has hit the fan, or at least that his days here are perhaps quantifiable. I love the dog, know that the boys would never be okay with finding him a new local. I am totally helpless and in a quandary deluxe; a rare day indeed. No way to manipulate , shape or come up with some far fetched but manageable solution. Yikes.

Scheme Scheme Plot Plot

Jake had me on the phone Saturday, telling me that I had never supported him, loved him or been there for him. I of course tried to reassure him that none of that was true, and I'm sure that had absolutely no effect on how he feels about me. I do know that most of what he said is not reality based, but by protesting I substantiate his argument. So, I held my tongue and commented when I he paused long enough to let me defend myself just a little. I'm reminded that I blame my mother for everything bad in the world, but in my case it's actually an authentic and bona fide truth.

Circumstance beyond our control

There is awkward and then there is AWKWARD, the latter of which I had a lovely experience with this week, and this brings to mind how candid am I really, with my blog readers and myself.
Join me will you; Every two weeks, I have my house cleaned by a service. I used to have Nellie and Art come out when we lived in the country. They had a farm, raised horses and goats, made cheese and soaps and cleaned houses on the side. Then they kind of began to feel a little more diversified than was desirable so they decided to give up the cleaning portion of their show. So, I found "a service". Most of the time it's two gals, one who comes regularly with a myriad of partners, because I'm guessing they don't take home a large portion of the huge sum I pay for the mediocre job they do. Wednesday morning I was getting ready for work and I saw them arrive and park in the driveway, I ran down so I could ask them to move the car before they got all settled in, and I got outside and froze just like the little squirrels do before people roll over their heads, and there was my sister-in law, equally frozen, more like a deer because she is quiet tall after all, and she said "Did I tell you I got a second job?"

It was all for power

I've listened to people give massive quantities of erroneous information and say it with such assurance and complete authority, that it not only is believable, it becomes fact of the matter. Of course it's said with the seriousness and gravity of an expert, and sometimes it's shared as an aside, or let me let you in on the real thing, this little secret of why and what for. I know that the people sharing it begin to believe in all earnestness that what they say is true and the recipients are so grateful for the imparting, that the lie becomes as valuable and weighty as the truth could have ever been. It's astonishing, nothing less, and it happens every day, in tons of settings, not just in the library where it would be nice to only hear or see people telling the truth.