Embracing My Sybil

Early mornings are good for thinking soft, quiet thoughts.


Or for venting.


And you guessed it- today I'm venting...
Here's how my brain is working this morning:


In my opinion, there are about four distinct kinds of people. 
1. Cookies and Milk people
2. Beer and Hot Wings people
3. Lemons and Pickles people
4. Spam and Whiskey people

To some, these titles may be self-explanatory, but here's a quick review in case you are clueless:

Cookies and Milk people are soft spoken, slow to anger, sweet without being sappy, and they avoid confrontation at all costs. They are naturally positive, usually smiling, and get along with just about all of the other types.


Beer and Hot Wings people are fun-loving, self-confident party goers who love to have fun, take risks and push the envelope. They are sometimes loud and obnoxious, but have a good soul. They prefer to surround themselves with friends, but are also comfortable sitting at home alone watching Nascar.

Lemons and Pickles people are never satisfied, always in a bad mood, hold grudges, find it difficult to smile, and they blame the world for their problems. They find joy in complaining, discussing their health, selfishness, and finding fault in others.


Spam and Whiskey people are sometimes known as white trash. They are both lazy and sloppy. They are content with their big screen TV and old four wheeler. They love makeup, cheap cigarettes, drama, and trailer fights. They indulge in leopard prints, camouflage and they adore bumper stickers.


So...
Maybe I'm being presumptuous, but I've always thought of myself as a Cookies and Milk kind of gal.


Until today...
Today I'm a Pickle-Spammy-Hotwing ball of I-hate-the-world kind of person!

Let me explain:
First of all, dear readers, I did not abandon you yesterday. I was up bright and early writing my Goodwill Wednesday post. I had several projects to share with you.
But guess what? My Lemony-Pickle kind of internet service sucks! I wasn't able to upload any pictures at all! And what would Goodwill Wednesday be without photos?
Especially when the title of the post was: Goodwill Wednesday: Turtles and Naked Men.
Now- when you have something like that to share, people naturally want pictures to go along with the story. Especially women with their mind in the gutter like mine who are curious about the naked man.
But- the knarly Spam/Whiskey/Beer people at my local internet office can't pull themselves away from their tetchy-induced comas for a moment to come out and track down the  problem.
So- (insert a photo of the Hulk right here)- I am slightly leaning toward the alternate personalities today!


Another thing:
Trash day is Tuesday. Why do I always have an overflowing bag of trash by Wednesday night?? It's almost as if the Trash Fairy came in the middle of the night and stuffed the thirty gallon bag with crap just to annoy and confuse me. Great job, Trash Fairy! It never fails! You are gooooood.

Also:
How come when it gets warmer and sunny outside, it also gets muddy? I was anxious to pick up limbs and sticks from the yard yesterday because it got 70 degrees here (Whoop-whoop!!) But, after picking up the first two sticks, I was wearing ten pound mud boots and sporting a wind-induced mullet!
And, besides- after the sticks were picked up- what was I going to do? Too early for gardening and mowing. What was I supposed to do? Sit at the picnic table and pretend my wet pant legs, soiled socks, giant mud soles and the yackyity-yippy dogs from next door didn't bother me? Yeah, right...


More venting....
Why can my husband and I sit for hours straight watching TV and not speak a word, but the minute I go in the other room to fold laundry or fill the dishwasher, he prepares some kind of speech directed to me that sounds like hair choking the tub drain. 
I can't HEAR you!! Got it?
_____________


If I was a Catholic, I guess I'd be at confession this morning. (In my mud boots.)
Because I want to let you all in on a little secret. Diets cause me to lie. Yes, I said lie- as in: to tell untruths; to be dishonest.
I went into the smoke shop yesterday to buy my husband his nasty-habitual-macho tobacco- and right there on the counter were fresh creme horns the size of my upper arm. Well, maybe not that big- but take my word for it- they were gigantically huge.

First, I thought to myself that I shouldn't spend the money on such yumminess. (A mere 98 cents plus tax.) Then, the whole diet memory kicked in and I told myself that never in one million and fourteen years- would that humongous flaky roll of calorie-laden happiness EVER be part of a diet.
But- then that Cookies and Milk kind of gal morphed into Lemon-Pickle territory. I said to myself- "Self- how can you spend eight dollars on unhealthy, unnecessary tobacco products for your husband, but deny yourself the 98 cent (plus tax) cream horn that has your name engraved in the mound of overflowing fluff?
So- guess what? They put that tasty baby in a neat, white sack and I drove it home like a winning lottery ticket.
But then this is where the lying part came in. 
I had just barely finished licking the creamy tips of my sweetened fingers and washing my eyebrows and forehead of tell-tale signs of flaky bakery crust- and dusting my black sweater free of powdered sugar residue- when my husband came home.
"Hi, Honey", I said smiling- still feeling that lump of sugar-love in my belly.
He looked at me kind of funny and said- "Are we still doing this diet thing?"
What???? Had my head blown up like a carbohydrate blimp? Had he noticed the forth roll of love handles under my sweat pants? Had I carelessly left a glittering of candy-fluff at the corner of my mouth?
"Well, of course we are, Dear." I assured him with a smile...

There's a good chance I'm going to Hell, isn't there?
______________________________


So- today you get another version of me. A blog without pictures. A negative rendition of Cookies and Milk that have crumbled and gone sour.
I guess I'll just curl up with my naked man ( that you can't even see because my freakin' internet is being all crazy) -and call it a day...

Victory is Mine

Every year when the skies grow dark and the air gets bitter cold, I wonder to myself if I can survive another winter. 

I sometimes think that the chill will saturate my bones like a malignancy- that the wind will bite at my face till I'm no longer human- 
and that the darkness will smother my heart till it can no longer feel joy.

I've always felt at odds with winter. 
As though it is an enemy- bound and determined to destroy me- to weaken me to the point of unconditional surrender. 
A brute and an evil that tests my fortitude and faith.

But I gaze out the window this morning and see the sun rising in a pool of lilacs and pinks-
its promise spreading across the hazy sky like a veil of mercy. And I smile- crack this membrane of winter 
and breathe in a hint of days to come.

 I pull open the blinds- wince at the sight of sharp, icy layers still floating on the pond- of snow heaped at the base of the pine trees- like a pile of white shirts that winter left behind.

But beyond, I see grass- brown and comatose, but tingling at its roots with new life. I see birds- soft and fat- bursting with the need to sing- to fill the trees with the music of spring- to fly through warm breezes and touch the blueness of the endless sky.

I imagine green spreading over the yard like emerald honey- like a gentle coat of flowers and clover. 
I close my eyes and feel the sun touching my face with an invisible hand and lifting me up from this winter bunker into the freshness of new days.


Soon daffodils will push their way out of frozen earth and stretch around the porch in tiny yellow dresses and the buds of trees will rip from their pods and dance with the honeysuckle.

Winter retreats. Spring grows stronger. 

I've survived.

Love Just Is.

(This is a Valentine's Day post from 2009. But it still rings true today... )

I want to go back.

I want to remember the story of my life.
Of how I met this man who has shared my days-
Of these children I bore and
how they have amazed and delighted me.
Of the places and people and time
that shaped my present.

The summer I met my husband
was especially hot and humid-
the days uneventful -
and the only proof that I actually lived them
was my tattered journal that I wrote in every day-
A notebook that had swollen
into a summer of words.

My sister Linda had a VW Beetle
and we would hop in on Friday night,
grab some beer at the drive-through-
and zoom into the lights of town.

Her best friends had a house that
soon became the "party house".
There we'd play our favorite record albums
like: Slade, Three Dog Night,
Roberta Flack, BTO, and others...

It was about the time that
the "hippie movement" began to decline,
but there remained an easy going attitude.
I drank a beer or two back then,
and some party-goers would get high-
but I never did.
(That is a fact, not a fill-in-the-blank.)

Most times a hot breeze would
blow through the open windows
and we sweat our way through
beer and pot and loud music that summer
like a slow motion dream.

(At least that how it
seems to me now.)

What is so mysterious about Fate
is that it's unpredictable.
A person can be going through life-
content and carefree-
when Fate suddenly intervenes
and changes the entire course of events.

Fate was waiting for me that summer...
It walked right in the door of the party house.

He was tan and lean.
Wearing button tab jeans, Earth shoes,
and a fuzzy pony tail.
Your average kind of guy back then.

But suddenly he smiled-
and every written course 
and map of my life-
and fear of the future, dissolved.

Fate had other plans.

I can't begin to say how much
that I still love this man.
We've been across mountains of struggles,
fields of heaven,
(and even stuck our heads in
the door of Hell a time or two),
but our hearts have never faltered.

We are kindred spirits.

I want his head to always be
on the pillow next to mine-
whether it be a fuzzy pony tail
or a thin glaze of gray.

I want his smile to continue
lighting up my life-
his touch to forever cause electricity-
his sweet, enduring love
to follow me till times end.

Love is never how you dream it.
Love is never how you plan it.
Love just is.

Happy Valentines Day.

The Color Purple and Other Thoughts

There were vague moments of restlessness last night. Times when my covers were hogged by my husband, my feet pinned in by my dog, and a rush of the Sahara Desert was Nature's cruel idea of a joke.

But it's times like these that my mind is in its free range state. No holds barred. Raw and uncensored. (Though my mind naturally stays away from the gutter -because, well, that's just me.)

But after the dream I had about carrying around some four year old girl as we visited the slums that were right behind my house (and I didn't even know it )-and we sat in a cafe and ate pork rinds and chocolate milk... yeah- right after that- I got to thinking about other things....

Take for instance: All the primary colors are used as emotional descriptions.
When you're sad, you are BLUE.

When you are scared, you are YELLOW.    
When's you're angry, you are RED with rage.
And with envy, you are GREEN.

So, I decided that we need a color for when we're hungry.
"I sure am PURPLE this morning!' Or "My belly sure is PURPLE!"

Do you think it will catch on?

************

I've spent the last few days trying to work on some art projects. What is it about a fresh canvas that just stops me dead in my tracks and then I go blank? I have so many great ideas in my mind's eye, but when it comes down to the moment of creation, I'm suddenly blind.

Although I've only made a mess, I do have black paint under my fingernails which is  unattractive, to say the least. But then I sorta look at it like having callouses from hard work. My nails are proof that I actually tried to do something.

I'm a little disappointed in myself, though. For the past three years, I've exhibited some art in the local museum's art competition, but I don't have any new things to enter this year.
I try to make excuses that I was at the cabin all summer, but what have I been doing the past few months? Time sure gets away.... (Especially when you're napping!)

***************
Valentine's Day is coming up on Monday and it reminds me of all those years in grade school when we exchanged valentines with our school mates. At first we decorated white lunch sacks with crude red hearts, and in later years, advanced to covering cereal boxes with pink construction paper and silver glitter.
I remember getting the cards ready the night before- taking hours to decide which ones my best friends were going to get- and how I could give the cutest boy in the class a really good one that didn't sound like I was ready to jump his bones. I avoided those with "Love" and "Be Mine" or anything with googly eyes.

In return, I loved getting those expensive cards with a sucker attached. We could never afford to buy them.
I snubbed the neat cards with fancy handwriting. You could always tell those sissy kids who had their moms address the cards for them. That was a huge cop out. Of course, I had a three letter name which made it easy and quick to sign the back, but it sure was tiresome to go through the list and address the envelopes- and make sure you hadn't missed anybody.
Do they still exchange Valentine's in school?

***************

Last night I made stuffed peppers for supper. They were actually very yummy.
I cut the tops off the peppers and cleaned out the seeds. Then I placed the peppers in a casserole dish with a little water and baked them (with their tops)  till they were soft.

Then I tried something new. I browned a small onion and cooked it with a half pound of hamburger. Seasoned with other stuff. Then I made a bowl of oatmeal in the microwave. I added it to the hamburger mixture, stirred well, and added a 3-cheese spaghetti sauce. The oatmeal gave it a smooth texture and took the place of rice.

I then stuffed the softened peppers,smothered them with pepper jack cheese and put their tops back on -and baked till bubbly. (After the tops are soft, the stem will pop right out).

It was a good hearty meal for a cold day!

***************

Doesn't that make you feel kinda PURPLE?

Gotta go! Breakfast is calling!

Goodwill Wednesday: Fifty Cent Find

Ugly. 50 cents.

But I took it home.

Didn't I say 50 cents?

Cleaned off hardware

Painted several coats/colors

Created crackle with Elmer's Glue under paint

Sanded it a bit/ Reattach hardware

Add keys

All done!