So, Lawrence Gowen left me feeling as though I've ignored myself and the risks that go into making a life worth living. I dragged the 'ole keyboard out, all the way up to my third floor bedroom. I then noticed that the humidifyier was empty and there were wet towels left on the carpet by the Mole and proceeded to clean "my nest". Who can be creative when there is nought but mess around you?

I then realized that I needed an extension cord and went about the process of rummaging through the basement to find one. NEVER, EVER go to the basement unless you have previously planned on it or there is a bomb raid. I almost didn't make it out again. It is the receptacle for all things that I don't want to deal with or simply do not have the time for, and it is a "black hole" that sucks me in and won't let me out unless called out by someone. This time it was the "Baby Mole" who yelled "Mum...phone". Thank God for telemarketers..right?

So, tonight I play. Yes friends, I will perform a solo on the keyboard and accompany it with vocals lubed by the aid of some Sangioverse (only 2 glasses) and will embarrass the hell out of my kids. YEAH!!!! Maybe they will be so disturbed that they will run from the house in search of someone to share their misery with...I can only hope.

Stay with me folks. This could be the painful birthing of a star! You never know, now do you?

Epiphany!!!

Saw Robin Williams on The Artists Studio tonight. He always makes me think about how "in the moment" people are. You can be talented, real, self assured and creative, but if you are not "in the moment" you miss everything. I am missing everything. And nobody is to blame but me.

Time and conditioning have everything to do with how this happened to me. Yet, I have to do something to change this pattern, because if I don't, I DIE. I mean that I , the real me, the me that always comes out when opportunity allows and the right combination of personalities allows, will go away for ever and ever, because I am on a percipice of middle age responsibilities that span two opposing generations who both demand everything of me. And the real ME is slowly receeding into a dark and angry place.

Robin Williams is a brilliant, immediate, creative man, but he is also the ONLY child of wealthy parents. I am not any of those things. I fought and continue to fight for a small place to be real and ME. Its a very difficult struggle because every gain is someone elses loss and I've been trained to put everyone else above me. I am, however, starting to believe that this was a mistake. Not just for me, but for anyone who has a relationship with me.

Not to be all esoteric, but....,I have to be good to me to be good to everyone else.

Going to play the keyboard now.

Goodnight

I used to cut everyone’s hair. It all started with my Dad who was too cheap to pay a barber and handed me a blunt pair of household scissors and told me to “do a decent job of it”. And I did, which was thoroughly amazing considering, I thought I was going to chop off half of his ear lobe.

Then it was my older brother, who gave me long, detailed instructions backed up with threats of bodily violence. I did fine again, although he had the requisite complaints.

Then my younger brother and sister joined the ranks and everyone was cool with the newest talent bestowed on the family. Except for my Mother, who continued to go to the “stylist” in town who did everyone with the same cut. We are talking rural Canada here people, so you can just imagine the clones running around, bumping into each other at the bank (which smelled like someone’s silo or manure pit) or the grocery store, or the drug store…..

Everyone got his or her haircut, but me. I tried to trim it in the bathroom mirror and did a “not bad” job, but with crappy scissors and no way to check out the back of my head, I would have done better to go with dreds. But my own cut was the only cut I got so sometimes I did some crazy shit like when Farah Fawcett was the big bomb! Oh yeah, I did the Farrah look, and it looked pretty close considering she spent a few hundred for it and I spent about 25 minutes with my head upside down, chopping straight across. NO JOKE!

So as you can well imagine haircuts are not my thing. I have, in fact developed a very real phobia of other people cutting anything off my head.

Where is this going? You ask? I desperately need a hair cut and have done so for about 12 years. I am about to make the big jump and I am terrified by the thought of it. I just know that I will feel foolish and like a “poser” as I will be instantly remarked upon by anyone who knows me (and a lot of people know me). I will want to hide in shame for being so vain and will fight the urge to run back and have my head shaved.

This is so bizarre and yet I cant help it.

Dreds seem like a brilliant plan right now. Nobody would even notice them!

Some things just should never be attempted. There is "White Out" as cover-up, there is my Mum in fish net stockings and then there is taking the Mole shopping to an outlet mall on a Saturday.

I should have had second thoughts when he suggested it and suspected ulterior motives. But no, I assumed that because he had completely forgotten Valentines days, without even a Mars Bar to commemorate it, he was trying to do something totally without selfish purposes.

We headed out and I noticed that he was a little impatient when I wanted to stop for coffee. I said nothing and thought that perhaps he was excited at the prospect of buying me things, so on we went.

Then "THE MAP" came out. Copied from an internet site, a map of places that sell maps, "we have to stop here fist, Sweetpea", was the first indication I had of a diversion from the plan.

Being "game" for anything new and exciting, I went along with the map puzzle and gave out instruction as needed, leading us to the address we were searching for....(A-1 Maps). What does this have to do with lavishing attention on me, you ask? NOT A GODDAM THING..is the answer. It was a well planned detour, to obtain a map for a trip to some hidden, hard-to-find cave location to be sought in a day or two.

A-1 Maps closed 15 minutes before we arrived (explaining the panic when I stopped for coffee) and much anxiety and frustration ensued. Oh...but the possibilities dont end there...there are other places that sell maps (and GPS's) in the near vicinity. Off we go in search of another spot that I had no idea we were headed for, where the Mole bought a map and a GPS!!!!!!!

The money is running out here, I'm thinking. The Mole is not known for his free spending habits and this kind of wonton spending is pretty scarey. "Do you still want to go shopping?" , I ask. I think that guilt kicked in then and he said "Of course, Sweetpea!", and away we went.

We came home with a new winter coat for the Mole (he really needed it), a new winter coat for the Moles Dad (he really needed it too), scissors for hair cutting (the Mole needs a new hair cut) and some perfume for me.

You gotta love the reasoning and sentiment behind these acts of kindness. I do, I really do.
People can always be expected to do the thing least expected.

I smell good and I am really pleased about that. Next time I go to an outlet mall, I go alone.

I just went to my "Happy" place again. I've been ther at least twice a day for the last week which tells me that things are a bit unsettled at the moment. This is not that surprising really when you consider that my "empty nest" aint empty no more.

The "happy place" for me is the Bath Tub filled to the top with firey hot bubbles. Its a place where I can go, think, not think, reflect (or not) and be ALONE!!!! I seem to be squeeky clean these last few months since both kids have returned.

I really do love them...let me be clear on that. But they are simply difficult to live with now that they are older and more sure of their place in the world. They brought with them work problems, debts, personal problems and goals that they are frustrated with.

I was so sure that I was going to have a new beginnng with the Mole and we'd have all this glorious time to spend together doing things (not mud related) together. But, things are not like I'd planned. What do you suppose Dr. Phil (-astine) would say? My Mother would love to quote the good doctor to me but knows that it would result in an explosion of insult, so avoid its.

Thank goodness for hot water, bubbles and locking doors!

After two days off I have to go back to work. Its not so bad, but when I get into the creative mode, I just want to stay there. Here is what I did this past weekend

1. Did some more painting on my ceiling mural
2. Made Father-In-Law a birthday book
3. Made 6 Valentines cards, gave away 5
4. Knitted 10 more rows on my "one day" sweater
5. Beaded another 12 rows on my latest peyote wrist band
6. Baked, cooked, etc.
7. Walked Snuffy approx. 6 times
8. Visited with Mother, Brother and his partner Shelby
9. Did an acceptable amount of housework and laundry
10. Watched TV

So, now its off to work again. Must put away toys and be serious and make money.
See ya on the next run

The Mole is away on yet another "Journey to the centre of the earth", Night Shift boy is sleeping, Princess C. is spending the day with boyfriend and others, I've walked the dog, visited my mother and NOW I'M playing with my new toy...all the new stuff BB loaded onto my computer.

I'm not the most savvy high tech-type, but I'm learning and finding it both fun and frustrating.
Frustrating cuz I can't remember everything he taught me, and fun when I remember enough to do something new.

Its freezing here in the Great White North today, but the sun is shining brightly so its not as bad as it has been. Still, 5 minutes outside nets frozen fingers, toes and nose.

I'm now going to soak myself in a hop bath, dress in the most comfortable clothes I own and watch some TV. I might even make the Mole a Valentines card!

A romantic day out with the Mole usually includes mud. Not the kind that someone slathers all over your body, but the cold, slimey, bug-infested mud you find underground in some dark, tight, damp and ungodly space that humans are not supposed to go. My kids tell me, on occasion, that I am very "game" for going along on some of these events. But, the older I get, the harder it gets.

Even covered in mud and wearing that stupid looking helmet, he's still cute!

I was in an angry mood yesterday. If this was disturbing, in any way, my apologies. But sometimes I get riled up too and have to spew it out like vomit. I refused to look at the news today and whenever the topic reared its ugly head - I ducked out. So, I'm better. Isolated, ignorant, but better.

Today, the Mole informed me that this weekend, like EVERY weekend since I met the guy, he will be gone one day to burrow into the ground. LORD....what do you say? WHAH? Okay Dear, have a nice hole digging day! I really have no basis for understanding and I've been married to the guy for 15 years. I am no closer to enlightenment now than I was 15 years ago. This caving, draining, hole digging thing is so weird. I swear he has some primitive connection to burrowing animals somewhere in the world. Perhaps he was a worm in a past lifetime, or a dung beatles or something. I know, without question, that that was not one of my past lives as I have no desire to accompany the guy under ground, ESPECIALLY in the bloody winter. It seems a wee bit more than strange, but there are hundreds of these folks out there and they communicate with each other through "alternative channels".

So, as I have every weekend of my married life, I will find something to do with myself. Which means, I'll blog. Hope you will all be around. Especially you ,3T.

I rarely allow myself to become enraged by world politics. I see it as a worthless activity for the most part. Lately I have decided that I simply cannot watch another news cast out of the middle east. I have had all my Leftist-Liberal-Pacifist-Tolerant attitudes challenged as never before. I have friends who are from Iran and Irac, I know others who have married others from the middle east and they are all Muslim and are all decent, hard-working, law abiding people with families, mortgages, jobs and friends. They are affraid. They cannot speak out lest they be lumped in with the radical, no-mind, primitives who go around burning, bombing, torching and shooting anything that OFFENDS their delicate sensibilities. Democracy is a longer road than I believed. I supposed that here in the west, we have had all the growing pains with the Reformation, Inquisition, etc. but we didn'y have much to go on, now did we? Not much to model our behaviour on, if you get my drift. Not so for the Arab world...they just prefer the violent way of speaking. Kill a few innocents and you'll not only be heard, but you'll be revered, and sainted (or made into a prophet). Shit, I hate hate hate it. I cannot stand the primitive, destructive, violent ways of these extremist types. THey try the patience of all of us and give a very bad name to others who DO NOT deserve it.

My idea of healing and the Moles idea of healing are very far apart. I do, however, appreciate the sentiment he brings to these moments. After my UGLY day, the Mole felt I needed to get out of the house and do something fun. "A nice walk in a beautiful spot is what you need", he says. "We'll take Snuffy and he'll have a great time too".

It was windy but dry, even though the sky was grey. We bundled up, got in the car and drove to a gypsum quarry in a little place called Paris. Sounds good so far? A nice walk in Paris!!! HA!

The wind picked up to the point where we could no longer talk without shouting, Then it began to rain a bit, then the rain began to pelt down with incredible force. By now we are a long way into the quarry and soaked to the skin. Wet, cold and still a little steamed from my bad day, we decide to head back to the car. Now the rain turns to ice pellets, snow starts joining in the fun and the wind is howling around us. Even the dog is looking alittle befuddled by our choice of
"walkies". By the time we returned to the car, we were drenched through to the skin, frozen and unable to speak and we had an almost two hour ride home due to traffic accidents all along the way.

A romantic gone all wrong , is my Mole. He means well and his idea did, in fact, work. I was so glad to get home and into warm clothes, I forgot all about my shitty day.

Ran out of wine so found a bottle of vodka in the freezer and decided to make home drinks. Bad idea. One has no source to go to, to find out the results of these home experiments, and I can tell you that they are V-BAD. I thought that I'd walk it off with the dog, who loves to "walk it off" with me normally, but who took a stand and decided that I was an embarrassment. We stood out front of my house, me singing "As long as he needs me" from Oliver, and the dog pissing on the neighbours front yard. This situation lasted about 10 minutes until I realized I was getting alot of attention and retreated into the house. Herein lies my warning.........Never, ever, ever, run out of RED WINE.