That was a publishing test. Blogger is sucking today. Hey google...what the hell are you doing?

pickles

Must must must say something.

Anyone here read the local rag? Specifically that stupid column where they pit the super conservative woman against the super liberal woman and give them some dumb thing to debate? I’m not naming names, since I find that terribly rude, but I’m sure you can figure it out if you care to try.

Last week, one of the topics was something incredibly topical like "are romance novels ruining women's expectations of marriage".

As was expected, the conservative lady (in her little lavender sweater set) said "of course they are, they give women the wrong idea, and of course they are all about S..E...X" (Now, I'm paraphrasing here people, so don't go get all literal on me). Then she goes on to say that she thinks these kind of books ought not to be published.

Well clutch my pearls!

I think, really, just maybe, quite possibly, that the collective intelligence of women across the world has just been insulted.

Are we so lacking in grey matter that we are unable to determine a work of fiction from a work of non fiction? (I mean, whose bosoms heave? Ever met a man named Nigel Greystoke who lived in a manor home called Broadriver? Ever met a woman named Penelope Smithingale? ever danced a waltz? been abducted by an Indian? been attacked by pirates? foiled a plot against the crown? Been struck on the head and awoken in a foreign country? Been sold to a harem? Stolen from a convent? just running through some popular themes here)

Evidently, we ARE lacking in said grey matter; so much so that we are unable to think for ourselves. Since we can't think for ourselves, we shouldn't be allowed to have access to anything that might cause us enjoyment, or might be about (shhhhh) S...E....X.

Hey, I like these books. They are...mental popporn. Good for passing the time. Good for a giggle. Sometimes even good for reminiscing (remember when you thought oral sex was kinda shocking?) . They certainly never gave me irrational ideas about what relationships should be like. I recognize them for what they are – housewife porn. I don’t think men look at Maxim for serious marital advice (at least, I hope not).

What makes me uneasy is that someone else would even say the words out loud "I don't think these books should be published".

Darling, you simply must tell me where you got that that lavender burqa!!

To dump or not to dump, that is the question?

Do you dump a cheating partner or do you give them another chance?

If you’ve given them another chance, how do they go about regaining your trust?

If you were the cheatee…why?

Just curious.

Ok, so I'm behind the times. (late correction! Waaayyyy late!)

Watched "The Essex Boys" (sorry, too lazy to link to IMDB's page for it) last night on BBCAmerica. What a fabulous movie! Y'all know I have the attention span of a gnat, but I watched the whole freaking thing! And it was great! I still love Sean Bean, and have since I first saw the Sharpe series.

Anyway, back to work.

To My Dear Angel,

I was thinking further upon our phone conversation today, and I think it is enough that you are aware of Mr. Brazil’s background and inclinations. This knowledge alone should make you very wary. You should know that he would never be relationship material until he addresses those issues. How old is he, with no real relationship, no marriage, no children to his name (yet)? At some point, I think, one has to have the sense that one has to get one’s life in order in order to move forward. You know, address the baggage in order to have a sense of progression?

And maybe he does need that…grounding we spoke of, and perhaps he knows it and is uncomfortable with having a female in that kind of permanent role in his life. I think he needs to come to terms with it, or he’s going to flounder around forever.

The ex has a friend like that – another fellow who is pushing forty, never married, never a serious girlfriend and no inclination to settle down, have kids, and whatnot. He’s pretty well off, but a real ass munch. Women love him. Go figure. I always completely hated his slimy guts. What does he have? Sure, he has a good job, and a nice car, and a big house. But he’s alone. Women look at someone who has hit forty (with no serious relationship on the radar) and the creep meter tends to go off. Maybe he just wants to roll in tail until he is too old to get it naturally, and has to pay for it. Isn’t that a lonely life? He’s not close to his family either….

Did I mention that I always hated him, and found him predatory and slimy and that he was losing his hair and had a weak chin and that I hated him?

Just checking :-)

At some point, Mr. Brazil is going to figure that out. He can’t fix his familial issues – that is a pattern established long before he was born. The only thing he can do is address himself. The best thing you can do, my dear, is steer clear until he figures things out.

Love ya, and don’t fret about it!

Limerick Gal hit it dead on last night.

To paraphrase,

When someone doesn't want to be alone, and yet they don't really want you, they'll offer you whatever they need to in order to not be alone.

So in other words, it's not about you...it's about their fear of loneliness.

Interesting.

I had one of those weird, flash like revelations while driving to the Publix this morning.

Sometimes the things you say out loud, other people fixate on as the way to solve a problem.

That doesn’t sound quite as profound as it did an hour ago.

I was thinking of my relationship history, and in the three that I left myself, when I expressed some sort of dissatisfaction, each of those three people offered me something they knew I wanted desperately. Do people really attempt to buy each other’s affections that way? If you are dating a girl, and you know she’s ready to get married (presumably to you), and you also know that she’s going to leave because she’s unhappy with something….do you ask her to marry you to make her stay (even if you aren’t ready?)? If you know someone, say, really wants to move to another state, or go back to school or raise goats (even if you really don’t want to) do you capitulate and give it to the other person? Is that sacrifice or stupidity?

With Miss T, we hadn’t been sleeping together for a year. Well, sleeping? Yes, sex…no. If it was…it was generally one sided as in yours truly providing and someone else going to sleep with no reciprocity. She knew I was incredibly unhappy with the state of things. What did she give me that Christmas? Something I had wanted ever since I was a little girl – a pearl necklace like my grandmom’s. I ended things anyway shortly thereafter (and returned the necklace). Ironically, the ex husband did the exact same thing the last Christmas we were together. I also made him return that necklace, and then went the following year and bought one for myself. No more bad pearl necklace karma.

And don’t make ONE freaking joke about a pearl necklace or I will reach through this monitor and smack you!!!

I’ve noticed with some of my friends (and our perpetual state of dissipating relationships) that they are more into the whole….I don’t know “surrendering” thing. Like…”If you’ll only stay with me I’ll (insert whatever here: stop drinking, stop smoking, lose weight, get a job, stop robbing banks, go to church, brush my teeth, stop picking my nose, stop going out with my girlfriends all the time, stop seeing my ex, etc.)” You get the picture. Isn’t that another form of…well, bribe? If you let me stay I’ll change for you???? Shouldn’t you want to change for you? (maybe I shouldn’t have used the nose picking thing as an example because now that is rather grossly stuck in my head…ewwww!)

I think if someone said to me in the course of a relationship that at some point some behavior/mannerism of mine was going to cause a problem, if I wanted the relationship to continue, I might want to look into that myself.

Maddy just turned off the surge protector with her tail, plunging the whole room into darkness.

That's a first.

Maps. Handy things, aren’t they? A useful means of getting from point A to point B, in whatever fashion suits you best. Maybe you prefer the most direct approach, or maybe you prefer the scenic route (you meandering thing you).

We’ve talked about this before, you and I…but wouldn’t it be handy if there was a map for life? You’d be able to see your destination, obviously, and you could pick whatever path suited you best.

Well, perhaps we do. Our destination is ultimately death, and how fast or how slow we get there is largely a matter of our own determination.

But that isn’t what I’m referring to. I mean the other things that make a life worth living. Seriously…does getting up and going to work every day really do it for you? Does being surrounded by…things do it for you? Having nice clothes, or traveling, or a fancy car, or eating out? Does that really (and be honest here) truly, deep down satisfy you at all? Does sitting in yet another tedious meeting or on a conference call resonate within your soul? Does driving your Beamer put you into a Zen state?

So why do we bother?

I’ve been thinking a great deal about simplification lately. I’ve let my own life become way too complicated; I’ve become a wage slave by allowing myself to become a slave to my house. Had I any sense, I’d have sold this freaking thing and taken a loss when I’d gotten divorced. However, we’ve already established I have no sense. Simplification for me will be selling this house, and moving somewhere that is closer to my parents and sister. Simplification will be living in a place where the cost of living is less, where population density isn’t so…well, dense. Where traffic isn’t so horrid. Where daily life is not a competition. A tiny little bungalow with a tidy yard, or a small farmhouse on some land in the middle of nowhere – now that is my idea of a perfect place. Somewhere that I could have a real vegetable garden. Somewhere that I can be myself and not have anyone around to make fun of me or what I wear…and if I want to have purple or blue hair, damnit, I will!

As much as I love this city, I’m coming to the conclusion that it’s time to go. One of the two reasons that I moved back here from Raleigh (never move there, ever) was to spend more time with my grandparents before they died. I’ve now only one grandparent left. The other was that there were no jobs in Raleigh at the time. Times have changed. And truly, if I ever dump this albatross it would be possible to take a more satisfying job that pays less because I would need less.

Doesn’t that sound good? To need less? I think it does.

But there’s not a map to get from A to Z. I’m 33. I’m divorced, I have no kids. I don’t think marriage is for me. It bugs the hell out of me that I don’t know where I’m going, but fuck it, I’ve got to learn to let go of some things and just go with the flow.

The dogs are right. They eat, they sleep, they play. They don't give a fiddler's fuck about any of the shit we silly humans worry about.

Simplification, right? Maybe I should take a page out of my dogs book...

I did think of one more teeny tiny little thing that I find really annoying...and this applies to folk of either gender.

If you know I really like something...say a movie, or a book, or a song, or an artist or whatever, don't proceed to mock it.

If you come into the room and say "what are you watching" and I reply "oh, old so and so, one of my favorite movies" and you sit down and after five minutes start ridiculing it, I will get pissed off. I will probably turn the movie off and go do something else. Something far far away from the person that is pissing me off. I do not do this to other people. I think it is rude...so why do people do this to me?

This is why the ex husband and I never went to movies or even watched television together. I could never make him understand that just because our tastes were different didn't mean that mine were wrong. Go figure.

Courtesy of the Farmer's Almanac!

Scatter Solomon's seal on the floor to banish serpents and venomous creatures from the room.

To protect your house from lightning, gather hazel tree branches on Palm Sunday and keep them in water.

Add caraway seeds to chicken feed to keep poultry from wandering. Feed the seeds to homing pigeons to help them find their way back.

Stuff fennel in your keyhole or hang it over your door to protect against witches.

Never carry a hoe into the house. If you do so by mistake, carry it out again, walking backward to avoid bad luck.

Never walk under a ladder, which is Satan's territory. If you must do it, cross your fingers or make the sign of the fig (closed fist, with thumb between index and middle fingers).

If you give a steel blade to a friend, make the recipient pay you a penny to avoid cutting the friendship.

Never give a knife as a housewarming present, or your new neighbor will become an enemy.

Never pound a nail after sundown, or you will wake the tree gods.

Nail an evergreen branch to new rafters to bring good luck. An empty hornets' nest, hung high, also will bring good luck to any age house.

When you move to a new house, always enter first with a loaf of bread and a new broom. Never bring an old broom into the house.

For More Interesting Tidbits, Go Here!!

Qualities

People often ask me what drove me nuts about my ex husband...really, they do...well, it's mostly women and one or two random guys involved in some kind of emotional crisis. Anyway, enough digressing.

The little things really don't bother me. People get upset about a lot of little things without stopping to think that their constant irritation is a symptom of a larger problem. I do not care which way the toilet paper goes on the holder, as long as it is on. I don't care how you load the dishwasher, or fold the laundry, as long as it gets done. I don't care how you mow the grass, as long as it is mown. Get the picture?

But true laziness....now, that's my major irritant. Please don't stand in the middle of the kitchen, nary a clean dish in sight, and honestly look me in the eye and tell me that you don't see that the kitchen is dirty. Honey? If there ain't a clean glass in the cupboard, the kitchen is freaking dirty. If your toilet could pass as a scientific experiment in mold cultivation, don't you dare look at me and tell me you see nothing wrong with it! I will think you are both a blind and lying lazy bastard. If all your clothes are on the floor and dirty, don't run to the mall and buy something new...try doing a novel thing called laundry. Really, you should try it some time. Give the laundry fairies of the world a break!

I don't expect everyone to live up to my standards. Shit, I don't even live up to my own standards most of the time. However, there are certain things I'm going to keep running smoothly all the time. I will have a clean kitchen. The laundry will not pile up. The bathroom will be clean at all times. I'm iffy on dusting (it sucks) and the only reason I vaccuum twice a week is because the dog hair looks like a small goat if I don't.

Here's the secret....

Don't sit on your ass and watch me while I clean.

Don't arm chair quarterback my cleaning (honey, you missed a spot on the tv...fuck you!).

Don't expect me to be the one cleaning when your parents are coming to town and you decide to go out with your coworkers for a beer at the last minute. I will regard that as major responsibility shirking, and you will be coming home to a dirty house.

I'm just rambling this morning...really.

He also used to do this thing that was really rather funny. Since he'd stay up all night on the computer, playing games and chatting and whatever else it is that men do on the computer all night, he would have the hardest time getting up in the morning. So much so that it got him in trouble at jobs (you know, rolling in to work around noon or one generally does that to you when start time is...ten). So I'd start waking him up. I'd set both alarms. I'd wake him up when I got up, when I showered, when I left. I'd move the alarm to another room and turn the volume up as loud as possible onto that klaxon setting. I'd call to see if he was awake and keep calling until he answered the phone. After all, it was in my best interests to see that he remained employed, right? Hah! Well, I'm no one's alarm clock, and no one's mama. It's not my job to get someone up and out of bed and fed and out the door. Theoretically, if one is an adult, one can do that oneself. I'm an adult...I do all those things myself...why couldn't he?

Here is what I am thankful for:

I am thankful for all the generations of women who preceeded me, whose sacrifice and struggle and agitation made it possible for me to be an independent, successful single woman today.

I am thankful for the men and women who fought against tyrrany and oppression and created our country.

I am thankful that we all have a protected right to have an opinion, and to express it, without fear of reprisal or death or oppression.

I am thankful that we all have the freedom to believe in whatever religion we wish, with no risk of legal persecution.

I am thankful that I can walk around my neighborhood by myself unmolested.

And lastly I am thankful for all the unconditional love and support my family has offered me throughout the years. Y'all know I wouldn't be the nutbag I am today without you.....

Well....

Just thinking.

You realize that our independence was bought at the cost of the downfall of the French monarchy? (well, at least....strongly financed)

And then we returned the favor almost two hundred years later.

Strange.

Here's a thought for you:

Is necessity the mother of reinvention?

Have you screwed up your own immediate life so badly you have to re-create your own one over again?

I had an astounding thought.

If pain is nature's way of saying "don't do that".

Why do we keep doing things that hurt us?

My oh my, we humans ARE dumb.

Speaking of friends....Scooter Libby gets his sentence commuted? My oh my....they must have a very special friendship indeed.

I guess I know who I'm calling if I'm ever convicted of obstruction.

With Friends like These

Who needs Enemies.

Right.

I think it very rude to repay someone's kindness and courtesy towards you as a newcomer to town by poaching all their friends, their local haunts, their local eateries, and then have the gall to seem surprised when it turns on you.

Shame on you!

Tropical fish have beautiful, vibrant colors.

I have a peculiar, throbbing headache just above my left eyeball. I am fairly certain it has to do with the consumption of too much alcohol, and the late-ish hour, and the guaranteed (a word I can never spell) resultant gain of a pound or two tomorrow.

When did I turn into Bridget Jones?