November 27, 2003
It must be Thanksgiving 'cause there's nobody out there.
I needed some alone time from the houseful today so I trudged up to Lake City to attend a thanksgiving yoga class.
It was strange walking through town with all the shops closed and Lake City Way(usually a constant drone of whizzing traffic) so dead.
There were a lot of other people seeking the restoration and reassurance of Two Dog Yogas gentle class on this cold Thanksgiving day.
Annie lead us through the stretches, her soft voice gently encouraging our bodies to relax, to extend, to feel, to be. My chest and neck have been pretty out of whack the last few weeks and I could feel my muscles pulling and protesting painfully against all the bending. I eased up and ran my hand along my levator(neck muscle that raises the scapula). It relaxed slightly and basked in the attention, telling me how much it was hurting... I imagined it purring like a little cat rescued from the cold, luxuriating in the warm tenderness of a loving hand.
I think that's what massage therapists do for people. People are running around in their stressful lives, all out of whack with nobody listening to them. Nobody to stop and hold them, take their hand, cradle their head. It's amazing how good it can feel, just to have a hand touch you, let alone two skilled hands gliding across your muscles attentively, finding those aching tense places and soothing them, smoothing them. Bodies have their own stories to tell, their own unique twists and curves, likes and dislikes, their own needs... Our bodies are us. We often forget it, dragging them along like an inanimate object, something seperate from the thinking core of us, our mind and spirit. But I think no such simple division exists. Our spirit coexists with our bodies, just as much in our fingers, toes, livers and kidneys as in our heads and hearts. Our bodies get twisted with our emotions, with our spiritual struggles as much as they do by physical obstacles.
I guess that's why I'm a massage therapist. I want to reach out and touch people, help them understand what their bodies are struggling with. I want to blend the physical with the spiritual, unearth the connection that is yearning to be acknowledged in all of us. Or perhaps just soothe someones pain for another day.
We all need help, don't we? Even the strongest of us.
Sometime, somewhere in their lives, every single one of us should be able to lay down their burdens and grief, cry out their pain and be held and listened to.
Good Lord, I'm blathering on so, I've forgotten why I started this post. Ah, yes, a quick scroll up and Thanksgiving is the answer.
So, thanks, for listening and thanks to all those who've held me, touched me, massaged and cared for me.
Touch, it does a body good.
November 23, 2003
new stove blues
I finally got tired of lighting the burners with a lighter and guestimating at oven temperature because the dial on our old gas oven was all screwed up. I took the audacious step of complaining to our landlady.
Within a few days she surprised and pleased me with a phone call saying they'd be delivering our new stove the next day. I was all excited to cook up the lambroast Ben had bought us, to welcome Daniel back from New York with a feast.
It made me a little nervous when she showed up with her friend, the same jocular fellow who put in the new bathroom floor and 'fixed' the toilet-now you only have to flush it two or three times postdump. But they did a fab job of toting the old monster out and hauling the 'new' stove in.
I was all excited to be getting a working oven and so when she told me she was leaving the cleaning to me I didn't beef about it, it didn't look TOO bad anyway.
Until I opened the door.
Two hours and a lotta elbow grease(well, actually noxious chemical cleaner) later I finally found myself looking at
a pretty spic n span new stove. I was too tuckered out to launch into a roast yo. Luckily my lovely mom showed up, played with the kids whilst I finished the cleaning, and ordered pizza for dinner. Hurray for mamas!
There was even some left for the boys when they trailed in from the airport later that night.
They thought the new stove was great. Little did they know I saved the broiler drawer for them.
November 19, 2003
just a suggestion
If you're feeling snacky and you go to the cupboard and see nothing but a box of crackers, a jar of soynut butter and a bag of suspiciously old chocolate chips, I really don't recommend slathering the cracker with the nutbutter(beanbutter?), loading on the ol chips and melting it in the toaster oven.
But, if you're unstoppable, like me, then please don't get busy blogreading and burn the shit outta them.
But, if you do, then throw them away, don't turn the toaster oven down and try again, do the same damn thing over again and end up with crunchy, blackened hellsnacks.
But if you do, I definately don't recommend attempting to eat them anyway out of snacky desperation, because if you do, you will probably burn your tongue.
Like I did.
November 16, 2003
Insomnia strikes again
Just could not go to sleep last night. Maybe 'cause I was all alone in a big empty bed, no warm sweet beastie of a man to curl up on(what sort of primal instinctual need is it that makes that feel soooo good, so warm, so SAFE?).
Or maybe it was the black tea... Or just my usual dose of good ol' insomnia.
My mind is restive, like a nervous horse it shies about and won't quiet down to allow me to sleep the sleep of the righteous.
No, I have to think about EVERYTHING under the sun first. and that damn clock, why can't it ever report some nice normal time, like 11pm, 12pm... Hell, even 1am would be nice! Why's it always gotta say some gawdawful thing like FOUR am?
Despite all that. I've had a loverly day. The kids have been playing like lil angelcats all day long, Ben and I had some nice talks whilst I sculpted(I'm working on a Green Tara) and there's plenty of leftovers in the fridge.
So, really, I'm not complaining. But, could someone somewhere send me some really really sleepy vibes tonight?
November 15, 2003
the story unfolds...
I couldn't resist this.
The challenge: Take the paragraph to your blog, linking to my post and the first paragraph, of course, and expand on it. Then someone will link to your post and mine and continue on, a paragraph at a time, to see what shape the story takes.
It was a dark and stormy night. Having just finished the newspaper, Jake walks back to his desk and takes a seat behind it. He turns to look out the window. Lightning dances across the horizon, and lights up his dark room. Then, at the door he hears a knock. He turns to face the door.
The knock is repeated, more firmly this time. "Dad!" his teenaged daughter calls. "I know you're in there! "
"The moment he opened the door, Jake knew he wouldn't be able to dodge Belinda's wrath again.
"NO!" Silk and naked womanflesh flashed as someone leapt in front of the colts barrel. Belinda was startled, but stood firmly, prepared to shoot her father down like the heroine addicted dog he had become. "No, don't please, you can't, you mustn't!" The woman fell to her knees, abandoning her attempt to wrap the hastily grabbed kimono around her and gripping Belindas jean-clad legs, sobbing and pleading though Belinda couldn't hear her muffled words anymore.
"Get off me, you goddamn whore!" Belinda shoved the tremulous woman away. Another of his stupid junkie bitches, she thought scornfully. But something about the hands grasping at her legs stopped her short. A glint of gold and diamond... A feeling of recognition, of mutual pain and longing shot through her.
Her gun hand suddenly limp, Belinda stared in uncomprehending horror at the familiar, tear-stained face of someone she hadn't seen for seven years. Seven years of abandonment. Seven years of struggle, abuse and survival. Seven years of hell.
Somewhere hot fury was gathering, replacing the cold steel behind her eyes.
November 13, 2003
trees don't have panic attacks
Trees are really good company. They don't judge, provoke or pass you by. They just sit there in that immense silent equanimity.
You can say anything to a tree and it will still hold its lovely shady branches above you, cradle you in its embrace, let you feel its roots running deep below you.
Trees... Maybe they know how hard it is to be a human.
"This existence of ours is as transient as autumn clouds.
November 12, 2003
Daniel just pointed out(in the comments on the previous post)that Loverzan is several months past her first birthday.
It's been way fun. Many thanks to all my readers-'specially all you lovely commentors!
I LOVE MY BLOG!!!
May a thousand kisses rain down on the head of the great and tiny pocket genie.
November 10, 2003
Kaya is certainly fullfilling her mission to search and destroy the rats around here.
Yestermorning, very early, the bedroom door opened(she's quite good at that) and I heard small fussy noises. I sat bolt up in bed saying:
"Kaya's got something again!"
"Wha..?" Daniel, groggy and surprised. "How do you know?"
But it became obvious pretty quickly that Kaya did indeed have a little rat as she proceeded to toss it about joyously. It was still very much alive and kept running away from her.
Not wanting to witness Kayas favorite little cat game, the brutally playful demise of a small creature about to be shaken, bitten and beaten to death, I found a paper bag and looked about for something to grab the wee beastie with while Daniel, like the tenderhearted buddhist he is, shooed Kaya away. The rat ran under the enormous pile of dirty laundry that currently adorns our bedroom floor(see mom, I REALLY am trying to relax and not do too much housework).
I looked at Daniel-I guess it must have been one of those raised eyebrow, 'now what are we supposed to do?' looks...
"I guess I should have let her catch it first" He said, a mite sheepishly.
"Yeah." I agreed, gingerly lifting up bits of laundry, half expecting the rat to be clinging to each one as I tossed it on the bed. I got to the bottom of the pile and saw that unmistakably rattie tail disappear under the bed.
"I think we better let her get it out from under there..."
Kaya promptly set to work, but her prey skittered under the dresser, I pulled the dresser out, but the frightened critter was already gone.
The only place it could have gone was under my heap of clothes in the closet. THIS heap is clean and nicely folded. It's my overflow-have I ever mentioned I have far too many clothes?
Anyhoo, I decided I'd have to deal with this myself. I put two socks on my right hand, paper bag ready in my left and proceeded to lift the pile of clothes. There was rattie, pushing itself as far into the back of the pile as possible. I took a deep breath, hoped those nasty little rat teeth weren't long enough to penetrate two thick woolen socks, and grabbed the lil sucker. It didn't even try to bite, it clung to the laundry, desperately trying to scramble away from me, all four legs kicking. It looked so scared I felt sorry for it and plopped it gently into the bag, wadded the top and took it out to the backyard.
It took a few good shakes of the bag to get it out. Poor thing was clinging to the inside of the bag pretty fiercely. Then it took about three super large hops and crawled off into the tall grass.
I bet it will tell its grandratties about the day it bravely fought the great and terrible deathcat, was swallowed by a sock-handed bagmonster, and then got spat out again. Hopefully this will impress its descendants so much that no rat will dare enter the dreadkitties lair again.
Daniel was pretty proud of me, but Kaya was just nosing about confusedly in the closet.
Poor thing, we always ruin her proudkitty moments.
November 06, 2003
I got a message from my doctor yesterday.
She said the EEG and the EKG were negative.
Presumably that means they found no abnormalities in my brain and heart.