Holly and I went to Houston this weekend for a Turkish Cultural Festival.  I have to say that Holly is a traveler without equal at her tender age.  She could lead a hike up Mount Everest, and probably find a mall at the summit.   This trip was sort of a dry run, to see if we could travel together without killing one another before we embarked on something really ambitious, like spring break in Istanbul.   If anything, Holly is better than I am, and I think I'm pretty good.

I failed to follow my own rule for traveling: It doesn't matter when you last had your period.  You will always get it in the middle of a long bus ride, and long before any scheduled stop.   Corollary: You will always stop at a truck stop, where female things are few and far between. 

I think there's some kind of purgatory involving 100+ teenage girls, excrutiating pain in the abdomen, Looney Tunes on the bus TV, and dinner balanced on your knees.  Add to that the fact that there is no direct freeway route between Little Rock and Houston, and you get seven hours of snaking through town after town through "scenic" East Texas.   I contrasted this place with San Antonio a few months ago; San Antonio was more like the Wild West.  East Texas was more Southern than the old South-and as I heard, not for all the good reasons.    There is such a freeway proposed, but it's tied up with protests and court, I hear.  Who knows if it will ever go through?

That said, the festival itself was a blast.  I enjoyed the graceful dancers and singers, and explored booths full of rugs and lovely headscarves.  The next day, we visited a huge mall (largest in Texas).  I felt like an ugh, but I'm glad I went.  So tired this morning, though!

gui

In today's news, I found out this morning that the accident ruined my gas sensor, so it read wrong.  How do I know this?  Running out of gas in the middle of an intersection with three kids in the car, in pouring rain, of course.  A kind cabbie came along and put gas in the tank for me. Opinion thus far of this day: ugh. BUT, if this group ever comes to the States, I am so there:

I'm assuming it's "help them conceive a child", lol.

I'm sure no one wants my battered old eggs or useless uterus now, but let's say I was 15-20 years younger. Before I had kids, I didn't know how attached I would feel to the baby growing inside me, but now I know. So I don't think I could do it without getting ultra attached. Too difficult emotionally, and pregnancy did a job on my health anyhow. As for donating eggs, that's a wringer with hormones, etc., I thought.

As for a hypothetical partner-that would be her choice. It's something we would discuss VERY carefully.

It's a sad world when there are 5 billion people in the world, and we're reduced to snuggling with this:


I can see the headlines now: "Local Woman Crushed By Robot Sluggo". I could see some applications for Sluggo, but I don't know if I want to hug it or bake it.

gui

1) I believe there are people with whom we "resonate" so strongly, that your souls sing together. It might be romantic, maybe not, but there is definitely a "vibration" between you that isn't just the hots.

I don't believe in the idea that we are "completed" by our soul mates. I'm already complete as I am. I think these special people lift us somehow, make us more alive and open but it isn't like something is missing before. They compliment life, not fill a void. A person can't fill a void that's meant to be filled from within.

2) I don't believe in just one soulmate per person. A lifetime is long, and we change so much from year to year. So, there is no "him or her", in my thinking. I've met a few people who I've resonated with on a soul level, and in fact none of them were a romantic relationship (not ruling that out though-that would be ecstasy!)

3)Again, I don't believe in "the one". Well, sometimes I say that the one person who could put up with me is probably in Outer Wherever living in a yurt, but I am jesting, and it's out of loneliness that I do feel. There are people who have moved on-literally, or just grown apart from me, and that's OK. What I won't do is live with any regrets.

...well, I'm out, anyway. Car still in for a few days.

It started this morning at 7:30, when Holls realized she'd forgotten her lunch. I should have insisted that she take some cash and buy today, but no, I went home, grabbed the lunch and started back. I live off of a divided highway, so I had to go westbound, turn around, and back east. Right into the sunglare.

I saw brakelights up ahead, so I slowed down, and WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! The car behind me rear-ended me so hard that I ended up on top of her car! Two others hit her from behind, but not nearly the same damage. Anything underneath my car ended up on the road. The car behind me was smoking, so I thought I'd better pile out as soon as possible.

Believe it or not, no serious injuries. I sprained everything in sight (and a few things not in sight), but aside from feeling banged up, I shall live. In the car behind me, the driver had a bloody nose from the bag, and her daughter sprained her wrist. The other two drivers were not hurt.

I'm more angry than physically hurt. I can't tell you how many times I've been tailgated on Chenal before by drivers who think it's the Indy 500. The lady who hit me HAD to be going at a hell of a clip to end up underneath my car. She's going to be cited out the wazoo. I'm one of the pokiest drivers you'll ever see-firmly 3-5 seconds between me and the next car, darn it!

But, my wreck was famous! We made the radio, on account of the massive traffic jam it caused. I made the doctor who saw me, and his nurse, late for work. The rental car place asked, "Wow, did you hear about that wreck on Chenal? One car on top of another...". How convenient, by the way, for a rental car place to be located near to the body shop?

Thank G_d for no kids in the car, mine or any others. And Thank G_d for whoever created Vicodin.

a banged-up gui

Today I probably finished up the season of swimming laps outdoors. It was a bit brisk out there, but not unbearable. I did find that my body just can't swim much when it's a little cold and I did much less than usual. Still, 20 minutes is 20 minutes and I'm about to go record that fact )).

I realized that the only way I'm going to exercise regularly is to have money behind it. So, I signed up for a years membership at our city-run health club and pool. Because it's mostly backed by the city, it's far, far cheaper than say, Bally's. Usually, I pay day to day, but then too many days go by when I'm not there ))). Now I have the pool, treadmills, handweights, and classes. Plus, the kids can swim indoors or go to the gym every Saturday. Best of all...it's drop them off and "see ya later".

I feel good tonight. I always feel better when I'm taking care of myself. Since that's true, why do I get off track? I'm motivated to make this my habit. Next tomorrow is a big food-shop and purge. I'm ready to do more than just not hurt; I'm ready to feel great.

I think I've had an epiphany about what I'm supposed to be doing. Unfortunately, I had to be at work to experience it.

I just spent all morning at one of those "team-building" meetings. We split up into four groups and our exercise was that we,the group,worked for a TV station and was a hiring committee for the six o'clock news. Our job was to hire an anchor. We were supposed to consider seven parameters: height, age, weight(!), nationality, hair length, hair colour, and gender.

Believe it or not, 3 of the 4 groups came up with something like "5'6 to 6'0, 35-40, 150 pounds (someone actually said that), white or African-American (so much for my Chinese coworker), shoulder-length and natural coloured hair (looks up at tinted spiky hair on my head), and male (looks down)".

The group yours truly was in threw out those parameters and came up with "charismatic, experienced, intelligent, professional, ethical, reassuring, and curious". The other groups took us to task for "not following directions" and assuming we could "make up our own exercise". The leader told us that when he had the exercise the first time, he refused to do it at all. I wish we'd thought of that. I happen to think the parameters we came up with describe a hell of a good teacher.

Then the discussion veered off into-buzzword alert!-teaching "outside the box", and-here it comes again, a buzzword!-"cooperative education". I sort of checked out, exept for anything the leader of our group had to say (she's the one who threw out the parameters).

Anyway, the epiphany. In a year and a half, I'll have my masters in teaching and I really don't want to quit that. But-and I've been thinking this for awhile-my calling is really teaching people who want to be in my class, for the most part. And to do that, I'll have to face facts, I need to go back and get my doctorate. I'm going to finish the masters and while I'll have to teach during the day (no use wasting it), I'm going to finally get that doctorate in physical science like I wish I'd done from the get-go. It's where my passion is, after a few missteps and dead ends. We're talking no time and a lot of work, but at the least I finally have a plan. Yay for seminars!

gui

OK, so you've never heard of the Polgars-they are, or were,women's world champions in chess. To say that my chess was like theirs would be like comparing Kraft dinner with Julia Child, but yes, in my own way, I was a decent player and held my own.

The legacy continues: Holls joined the chess club at her school ))).

I taught her and her brother how to play, but I thought neither was really into it. Turns out, Josh wants to attend the club with her (it is OK'd by the teacher/advisor), and they are both becoming quite strong players. I'm not going to play stage mom here and ruin a fun game; if they want to get into competition, there's a lot of time to enjoy that.

It felt odd being back in the "groove", so to speak. I haven't played officially, for ratings, in years. So here I was, ordering a chess set and bag for Holls, and realizing that I miss those days! I miss packing my set and clock and setting out for yet another tournament. I retired because it's a lot of study and practice to crack even master level, and I wasn't willing to do that at the time. I play occasionally in the land of Yahoo, and that's been it.

When I let slip to the advisor that I used to play competitively, he asked me to come to the club as another teacher/helper ))). I'm very happy. It's only a small step from that to going to a competition here and there. Yay, I'm playing again!

I was so freaking glad when the Giants beat Dallas in that obscene stadium. That's the only word for it-obscene. I have to agree wholeheartedly with jake67jake in that regard.

I have to admit that today I was bothered by something I wrote over a month ago, in that sex survey. I think the question was "Have you ever gone out to a bar just for sex", or something like that. I replied that I felt "tired" just thinking of getting made up or shaving,etc.

Today, I began to ask, "why"? Not that I'd go out just for sex-although my body sometimes tells me differently. I asked why I would feel tired taking care of myself, and pampering myself. Then I began to ask if it wouldn't be more tiring to let myself completely go, and not care.

Reason being, that I used to care-a lot. Depression will suck the motivation right out. I got to a point where I was too tired to care about my hair, clothes, any of it. But something has really shifted in just the last few weeks. I has fingernails ))). I shaved, and feel all softy-like. I spent time on my feet, and did a mani and pedi. I actually felt more energy after this, not less.

I'm excited to think that I might be coming "back" to who I really am, both in caring for myself, in weight, in all of it. Or maybe this is just moving forward, and there is no "back". I don't know. I suppose it doesn't matter. I'm excited that I'm too "tired" to not get myself together. May the opposite become the default.

gui

A happy and sweet Rosh Hashannah to those who observe it )).

Every year for the last few years, something has gone wrong during the High Holidays. Major deaths take the fun right out. This time, my uterus is trying to turn itself inside out. Soon, I'm going to return to the black lagoon where I came from.

I don't really have the right words to describe this, but *that* song-the one that came into my life again in March after a hiatus-is roaring back again. It's that skin hunger again, of course. I am such a cuddlebum at heart and that's what that video is-a huge cuddle. It's like seeing my longing, my need, right there. I think it's soul hunger, too. I even have "mind hunger". I need to make a much bigger effort to join a club, or a reading group, to move my mind again. And Goddess knows, I could use some movement of my body.

This is probably just me being crazy, but I really think there are songs that indicate a big series of changes, or growth, for me anyway. Now I look back and last spring was a lot of external changes-Sammy going away, and my daughter's new school, changes with counseling. Now I keep listening to that song again, and that cuddle is a reassurance to me that things will be OK, yet again. This time, I think it's internal change. That's the kind I dread in a way, because I can't see what's coming or where I'm going. I know I've identified many changes I need to make. What can I say, but "Bring it on!"

gui

This is probably the longest shot of all long shots, but I've had my love for obscure poets AND my love of difficult quests stirred at the same time )). Just like buying a copy of Mao's Little Red Book in Chinese (which I did), I will search out anything. Here goes:

Have any of you ever heard of a Russian poet/playwright named Konstantin Konstantinovich? His pen name was KR. Unfortunately, he lived around the time of Pasternak, Turgenev, and other "big names" that are easily found in any library here, and so was overshadowed. He was also a relative of the last Tsar, so that might be another reason he's so obscure today. I stumbled onto him recently, and have found some of his work online. For instance (I didn't translate this, it came in English):

O child, below your balcony
I will sing a serenade...
Soothed by my singing
you will find peace in your dreams;
may your repose
in the stillness of the night
be caressed by the soft sound of kisses!

Many troubles, many woes
in life await you, child,
so sleep sweetly while you are free of care,
and your heart knows no burden;
sleep your serene sleep
in the darkness of the night;
sleep, ignorent of earthly strife.

May your guardian angel
watch over you, dear friend,
and, lulling your childish slumbers,
softly sing you a song of heaven.
May the living echo
of this divine song
fill your soul with hope.

Sleep then, darling girl, and surrender
to the harmonies of my serenade.
May you dream of a radiant paradise
full of everlasting joy;
may your repose
in the stillness of the night
be caressed by the soft sound of kisses!

-K.R.

Maybe it's just me, but I really love that. I realize it's written for a child, but the same could be said for a lover, too...

I would love to find his work in print. I don't care if it's in Russian. That is my mission.

Well, it's all over but for the playing with toys )). On sleepover night, two girls packed their bags and threatened to go home (one lived downstairs), my son didn't quite reach the bathroom in time and had an accident (he sometimes "forgets" to go when he gets busy), meaning I had to clean that bathroom twice in one day, and during the party itself, at least three girls at one time or another stormed out of the party room to sulk. But, everyone had fun and I call it a success.

Except that, this is the last year I try to do a party alone, by myself. All the other moms had some excuse why they couldn't come. I just feel frazzled, and haven't had any time for my needs all weekend. It pointed out how much my life is out of balance. I don't do things for myself, so I need ideas for cheap fun things for me. Or, what do y'all do for yourself? I think sometimes we get into taking care of others so much that we become last on the list. So I'm calling this the Autumn of First On The List!

I thought of things like going to the gym, checking out the sales at B&N, going to the art museum, or even walking in the zoo (I am a member of all of those, so the cost is already spent). This party thing showed me how I need to slow down and renew myself, hopefully daily.

In fact, I already started by going to B&N and finding a huge book of e.e.cummings' poetry. Always manages to relax me ;).

*sigh* This place is a pit. But, I could think of cleaning as being for me, also-especially if I get some artwork afterwards )).

A note to my FList:

If I ever, EVER, say "I think I'll invite four pre-teen girls over for pizza, movies and girlie things kind of sleepover", I want y'all to come here from the corners of the earth, near and far. Come all ye, and bring your torches and pitchforks and string me up. Hang me high,and torment my flesh until I be a writhing, babbling ball of pain.

It's only 12:51AM, and so far we've had one casualty of an upset stomach all over my bathroom, and a bloody nose (not caused by violence, thankfully).

I am the Mary Tyler Moore of kids' sleepovers.

Sorry about my little outburst last night. Everything looks more bleak in the middle of the night, doesn't it?

I think I heard my message of the day through the People's Court, of all places. It was a case of a long divorced couple still battling it out over some issue. The judge said "You (the ex-wife) have to get through the anger and the bitterness, because those will cannibalize your soul." She was right.

I have to remember for myself that I can put together a great life-I have all I need. I really don't have room for regrets or anger; I have three beautiful children out of it, and one day being a grandma will be a gas. I have a complete opportunity for me, now. But getting stuck in the anger and grief will paralyze me.

Just for shits and giggles, I did a numerology report on myself (I'm a 7). It said "This month (September) will be a time for just you, and you have a profound need to be by yourself. You will be doing intense personal growth and resolving of issues, if you can take the time to put your needs first and not take on others' issues as your own". Wow.

Not so much to say tonight, only that I'm going to take a shower and get ready for bed. After what I hope is a good night's sleep, not interrupted by crying, I'm going to wake up, do yoga, journal, and go for a swim. When I get home for my three-day weekend, I'm going to hermitize myself in this house, clean it to the gills, and figure out how I got so off track. And how the heck I'm going to get back. That is all.

September is not getting off to an auspicious start.

Today I took most of the day to go to the dentist, which would be a bummer at the best of times. My filling went fine; no pain but that came later. Oof!

There's been some drama between Holls and her "friend", "Zaia". It's sort of an off-again, on-again thing. At one point recently, another friend, "Miranda", could not play with Holly (decreed by Miranda's stepmother), because of some argument between Zaia and Miranda vs. Holly, and since Miranda's SM and Zaia's mom are best friends, guess who was in the wrong? Whatever, I believe in staying out of things as much as possible.

Tonight, there was another dust-up between Holly and Zaia, and Zaia told her that if Holly didn't do as she said, Zaia could beat her up. I told Holly that if anyone touches a molecule on her head (or that of Josh's), that I would call the police and they (Zaia or her mom) would be spending time in a charming cell. Well, Zaia's mom came out and told Holls and Josh that she was going to "whup their ass". I stayed out of it, as she was gone by the time I got out there.

The last thing I wanted was trouble with neighbors. Zaia and family are black, and I am white-this could be bad. If she confronts me for any reason though, I will not hesitate to call the police and start a paper trail. And for the record, Holls and Josh are not allowed to play with Zaia. Just too much of a risk of trouble.

While this was going on, I burnt up dinner and created a huge smoke bomb in my apartment.

My tooth is throbbing, and so is my head. Yuck.

I brought Sammy home for a few hours today, and now, finally, it's getting into my brain why I let him go in the first place. He was so "busy"! He needs 100% attention, which I could never give him completely, and G. had by that time disappeared emotionally.

I had lunch with him in his dining hall, and in three months he's made great progress with fork and spoon. Of course, by our standards he's still atrocious, but from where he came from, he could dine with the Queen.

I took him over to meet my friend Marilyn, and he was "busy" in her perfectly cleaned and non-Sammy proofed apartment as well. I would have felt terrible if he'd broken anything.

I only met Marilyn last weekend; she's a new neighbor in the next building. Her son and my daughter are in the same class, so I'm carpooling on Mon-Thurs, and she's driving on Fri.

Holls' school doesn't mess around; I found out I could tap into her records on the school's website, and I found out that she got two detention points for having her shirt untucked. If you "earn" up to some amount (10?), you have to go to Saturday school. She did very poorly on a math quiz already (so we went over the lesson tonight), and somehow missed a science assignment. Holly is not known for being organized. She also wasn't a happy camper tonight! At least she seems really motivated to make good grades and knuckle down. Her ability to go to Spain or Turkey next summer depends on it.

Did I mention that a few days after Rosie's death, someone else showed up? A FOAF had a kitten she was fostering, but needed a home for her ASAP. So it came to pass that Misty, an all-grey Norweigan Forest Cat, adopted us. She is so far a huge lovebug of a kitteh. The only drawback is that NFC's tend to get big...20 lbs big! We're probably not talking purebred here, so that might keep her size down.

While waiting for the vet the other day, I noticed a pile of yellow rubber goo on a display. It turned out that the goo represented 1 pound of fat! Multiply that by...oh, never mind how much, and you get gui shocked into getting healthy! Me want strong arms for hugs, not the batwing thing going on. I sort of lost track of my health for a long time this summer, but I know I can get it back. Tomorrow evening, it's the pool for me.

gui

The interview went well. I would initially be making more money than now, but may actually come out less because of paying for child care. Still, it would be a fun job selling geologic maps, and I already know how to read them. They wouldn't have to train me, which is a plus.

Another choice might be to stay where I am and volunteer at the geological place in spare time. My interviewer gave me a tour of the building, and when we got to the library, she said they were looking for someone to update the catalog, clean the shelves, put a lot of it on hard drive, and just...oh, it's a huge job. It was a mess; boxes of papers, maps spread out all over tables, dusty books from the WPA in the '30's that probably need rebound or protected somehow. The others there were trying to do it in spare time, which meant a big mess and little of it getting done. I volunteered myself ))). I just love challenges like that, and I prefer working mostly on my own. I went and interviewed again with the "boss" of the library, and she seems interested. So, yeah, we'll see. At the least, it is an interesting place and I will watch for opportunities there.

It's funny, to me anyway, that that library is a metaphor for my life as a whole. A big mess of too much weight,relationships that go nowhere, stuff I haven't unpacked in years. So like I might be working that library, so it is that I must work my life. I like that challenge, too.