Hello there, friends!!!

Oh, what a week it has been!
I am in desperate need of sleep, and have a kitchen full of boxes,
but I am smiling and loving this world!
I know this is all probably a little bit hard to understand, but it's like the weight has just been plucked from my shoulders and tossed into the ocean.
Both of us are comfortable with this decision, and happy with it.
I have not felt this free and this filled with joy in years.
There are very sad moments, from time to time...but it's all a part of the process.
The bottom line is that we are both setting out on paths to our destinies and we both agree that our time together was well spent, but that time is also up.
We will both be happier this way.
And I know in my heart that the kids will end up having a better relationship with him this way.
That may be hard for you to understand, but it's all I'm willing to say on the subject.
He is a good man, and did his very best to be a better husband and father than his own.
He succeeded.
Anyway...
I have had the most incredible support this week from a handful of amazing women,
without whom this move would not have been possible--either that or it would be only 1/3 of the way complete instead of 95%.
I feel so loved, so free!
It's the strangest sensation and I'll have to write a better post when I've had more sleep...
3 nights this week have been 2-hour nighters, one of which was last night.
I have so many great stories and I know I can communicate better if I sleep, so I'll write again tomorrow.
This is the 3rd night of sleeping in my new(old) home and it feels incredible!

Moving day--

Well, as it turns out, the time has come to truly ramble on.
What?? Another blog move already?? What is this girl, NUTS?

Nope.
Try again...
I'm moving out of this big lovely house.
And back into that smaller lovely house.

No time to talk, but I'll look forward to greeting you all with a smile when I sit down in my new home tomorrow night.

Tomorrow the movers come and everything's packed (well, almost everything) and the best part is that He and I are both ok.
It's hard and scary and sad (just ask my tear-soaked pillow or the tissues littering my floor) but it's what's right for all of us.
Yes, even the kids.
I'd rather not mudsling, so please take my word for it.

I am as shocked as you are, and have had about 42 hours to plan this move, amidst attempts at studying for tests at school so I'm beyond frazzled at the moment.

Will check in tomorrow.

I think it's safe to say

I'm plum wore out!
...ok, maybe it's never technically "safe" to say such a dorky thing in public, but still.
It's a safe assumption to make.
TIE-
ERD.
That's me.
We've undertaken the arduous task of rearranging our entire house.
Well, that's not true...
the kitchen's still the kitchen and the bathrooms are all pretty much staying put,
but the guest room, the kids' computer room and each of our offices are all being flip-flopped,
swip-swapped
(I've never heard that before, but it rhymes and I LIKE IT!).
I am currently installed in my new office, and the boys' computers are set up in their new location, but the guest bed is in the middle of the (basement) family room and my office is completely empty and His looks like it got hit by a tornado.
Of course, it has looked like that for months.
Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh.
Did you hear that?
It wasn't a gust of wind at your sill, it was my continent drifting exhale.
I'm tired but I'm happy,
I'm brave but I'm chicken shit...

I love this location.


I will have less peace and quiet at certain times of the day,
but I am centrally located again,
and my painting is just above my desk, so I can glance up at it and feel inspired
invigorated
ignited
illuminated
at any time I want.
My book case is just beside me, carefully organized this time--
top shelf: school
second shelf: all my crazy favorites like Confederacy of Dunces, Chuck Palahniuk, Bukowski, etc
third shelf: sets, like Anne Rice's Vampire Chronicles, Narnia, Ender, and of course the Harry Potter books*
fourth shelf: reference stuff, and first-run-at-college text books
bottom shelf: stuff I can't bring myself to dis, because I did enjoy them, but they're just less noteworthy, like Mary Higgins Clark and Clive Cussler...
I'm sure you were all just dyyyyying to know...
Sorry.
Turns out I have an almost-compulsion to list stuff.

Eh, whatever.
We brought the books up in armfuls and I loved how they looked on the table:

*I just bought the 4 I didn't have in paper back so it's complete, baby!!! Can't wait to read it from the beginning some time. Little known fact about your favorite bored star: I almost NEVER reread books. No matter how much I loved a book I am always too eager to chew up and swallow the next story to fit in rereads. I plan to change this...

The desk and bookcase are both in a reddish tone,
there is a large mirror with a reddish frame,
and the rug has reds in it,
but the best part of my non-Shining-esque Red Room is that when the sun comes in through the soon-to-be-annoying unshuttered windows at the top of the room, the light hitting my hair shows a curious red color!
My hair looks like a tangled ball of yarn, but whatever.
You'll see that I'm either multi-colored or that the camera only captured the red in a certain spot:


Anywho.
All that furniture lugging and organzing tuckered me right out.
So I grabbed the two handsomest redheads I could find and we ate ice cream and popcorn in my bed while watching Ghost Rider.
That movie was awesome!
I love comic book movies.
I had to keep pausing it to answer their questions...
they didn't even know who or what a devil was!
How negligent of a mormon-raised girl am I???
Sheesh.
I am kind of glad that they aren't aware of that stuff, but that was still a weird moment.
Still, it was when I explained that the fiery skulled guy was good that they said they wanted to be like him--not just because he was powerful, but because he was a BADASS MOTHERFUCKER and was also trying to help people.
They loved it.
...am I a bad mother...?
Eek.

After the movie I shuffled them to their beds and finished preparations for the arrival of my overnight guest.
Get your minds out of the gutter--
I have a friend from home who lives a few hours from here and had a date with a Salt Lake guy tonight so she's crashing here.
If only we had finished our grand rearrangement, I wouldn't have had to clean my kids' bathroom...gah--it needed it, though, so I'll be glad I was forced to do it.
I really tend to avoid that bathroom.
Like the plague that's probably growing there.
Nah, it wasn't that bad.
I just really don't clean it as often as I clean the other bathrooms because I know their habits and behaviors.
Anyway, I got everything squared away for her arrival and now, here I am,
happy in the semi-dark of my new location with Journey playing
and a busy weekend leering at me from the next square on my calendar.
It's going to be a good one.
Just busy.

My first round of exams is coming right up.
I am not quite ready, but I should be by the time they hit.
I hope I don't forget to study...
Speaking of being ready, I think I'm ready for some serious snoozology.
Peace out, my ninjas.
(ha! I sound like such a POSER saying that! I'm no ninja--I'm a fucker, not a fighter...)

My foot is just an extension of the gas pedal--

As I ride in this sleek machine.
The car feels like magic--
bending the continuums of both space and time to its will,
to my will as we surge through the dry, crisp air.
The car lunges, the car purrs,
the car holds me close to its chest as it leaps through the air.
We are not late, we are not even early--
we simply drive.
Sometimes, when I'm stuck behind a slow car,
I feel the car echoing my discomfort.
Its engine seems to whimper at me, Why?
Ssh...we'll fly again soon, baby, it's ok...
And we do.
Did I mention it corners on rails?
Did I mention I feel ten years younger driving that car?
(That would make me, like, 14, so quit checking out my rack, you dirty old men/women!!)
Heh...I don't know why I'm pretending to hate my age lately; I love it.
I will love 33 even more because it's a double.

Last night I was getting settled into bed, so ready to be ready for sleep.
It was nearly midnight.
When suddenly, I was overwhelmed with the need for peanut butter cokies, the kind with the Hershey's kiss on top (in Maine we called them Mt. Katahdins, but I'm sure it's just a local thang).
I simply HAD to have them.
I fought the urge for a while, then made my way to the kitchen, drenched in resignation and drowning in exhilaration.
Indicentally, my dad calls the accelerator (on the car) the exhilarator...not on purpose.
So, the recipe was found, the cookies made, and the mess cleaned up in just under 30 minutes.
And the cookies scratched my itch, so I could sleep.
Fortunately my therapist said this morning, "So tell me about the weight loss."
He had noticed I was losing weight (!!!!!) and was concerned that it was due to depression or something.
Yeah.
RIGHT.
I happen to eat my way through depression, thank you very much!
I assured him that I would never
EVER
be "too" thin.
Peanut butter cookies, anyone...?

Also talked to my beloved Sh. today.
We shared each others joys and stories and she even made me cry once.
It was gooooooooooood.
Today was therapy day, it seems!
Mr. Teddy Bear Therapist, then Sh. The Glowing Ball of Love, and then even a dash of retail therapy--because I needed....a...couple....of...things....ahem....
Not to mention the best therapy of all--
Mr. was gone for a one-night business trip, but he'll be back in an hour or so and I'm going to surprise him with the cowboy hat I bought for him...and, given my intended presentation I imagine that'll turn into some delicious sex therapy!

Woooooooooooo-eeeeeeee!
I tell you what, when powerful souls send you powerful energy it tends to shake your whole world into orbit.

Ok, time to go pretend to supervise my kids' hyperactive friend who's here playing...

Good morning, sunshines!

It is a beautiful day in my neighborhood; how about yours?

I just read the last lines of the last post
and my chest felt like fabric in an angry fist.
I had a great weekend, though and life moves haltingly forward.

The India Fest was pretty cool--a little slow-moving for my kids,
but the dancers captivated them and the fireworks were lovely.
I enjoyed the food, they enjoyed the llamas.
There was a sliver of a moon, shining deep red as I stood on the terrace of the temple and looked out over the mountain-hugged valley.
They couldn't have chosen a more serene and breathtaking location for their home.
I have some pictures to add later.
Most of the pictures turned out like heaping piles of llama manure (Llamanure, for short) so this is all I have for ya:

Lovely building, isn't it?

Today I am home from school with a sick child.
Poor little sweet.

I think that tomorrow when I see my most awesome counselor I will ask him how
in the bloody hell
I'm supposed to know when I should have what I want and when I shouldn't have it.
So many conflicting desires.
It's like there are two of me, and each of us wants something different.
And, sadly, the two self's desires are mutually exclusive.

But, like I said, the world still spins and the sun still shines and,
with thrilling fortuity, the lightening still crashes.
I've often tried to hold the sea
the sun, the fields, the tide
But somehow they all slip through my fingers like grains of sand.

See...the problem with me having a blog right now is that I am so afraid of being myself that I can't think of anything to say most of the time.

Maybe I'll go make a pumpkin pie or some pumpkin bread for little pumpkin-loving punkin'.
And hopefully he'll wake up and want to watch movies in my room at some point, cuz what's the good of having a sick kid if you can't even snuggle them and be LAZY??

Just lemmee get my homework finished and that pumpkin-whatever made and I'll be ready for some moooo-vies! Woot!

Hope you all are happy to see another Monday in the mirror.

****Update****

2:33pm

I promised myself I wouldn't so much as peek,
but I did,
because, well, I'm weak
(and comma-prone, which is not so tragic as coma-prone, but I digress)
and I did, I peeked.
(Which is also far less tragic than peaking, if we're referring to sexual peak or career peak or widow's peak...ahem!)
The point is, I cried my little hazel eyes out but they were tears of joy, at least mostly joy, and just overall unleashing of pent-up emotions and why is this so fucking difficult for me???
Because friends like that don't grow on trees, man, that's why.
They don't even grow on bushes,
(although the sight of a bush might make them Grow--
but that's a different story.)
The point is, friends like that are rare in this ugly, barren world and maybe I could be less of a drama queen now and then, cuz frankly I couldn't be MORE of one--the laws of physics don't allow for it!

So, to sum up:
1. I'm a weak peeker
2. I'm a peak wrecker
3. turn down the drama, mama
4. this was supposed to be poetic but my brain couldn't sit still!

I want to hunt a unicorn
through a forest, in a daze,
Wanna ride a sea-horse fast
into spray, where spirits graze;
I'd like a watching saucer to reveal itself to me,
I'd like to crawl into a bottle
and drift back out to sea.
--Author Unknown(ish)


(I'm all red cuz I was in the bath when I took that shot, many years ago.)

The world may never know

(how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop)
And I may never know if I'm insane or just a whiner.

I spent my entire Philosphy class writing out my feelings today.
Trying to sort through my life because frankly I'm scared.
Scared that I will never be happy--satisfied, I should say.
Scared that I have been walking around in someone else's shoes for so long that my feet have changed shape.
Scared that even if I could change the things I think need changing that I still wouldn't like my world.
I feel like I am the branch of a tree, lying on the shore and the waves have crashed over me so many times, so forcefully, that I am smooth and soft and my bark is all gone (but fortunately I still bite. ha.) and I am lost.
Because...being Me hasn't really worked out so well.
"Me" doesn't stand a chance against this raging storm.
"Me" gets lost and muted and smudged.

I'm fine.
I've been fine for weeks now.
The problem isn't that I'm hurting or sad or even scared, really.
The problem is that I am doing the best that I can and sometimes it's still not good enough and I just know that it never will be.
Square peg, round hole.

Meanwhile, the sun is shining and the weekend is here!
Oh, glorious, early fall weekends!
Tomorrow the Krishna temple is having a big celebration that I'm taking my kids to.
I've always heard that it's a lot of fun, so I'll let ya know.
(I just wasted ten minutes searching for the pictures I took of the temple a few years ago, but I can't find them. I did, however, find some very naughty pictures that were sent to me by appreciative readers years ago. Boy, those were the days. Look what's become of me!! Siiiigh.)

I am reading a book with some modern interaction with some of Shakespeare's fairies, of which the moral is: our desires only cause us pain.
So true, so true.
I have the tormented soul of an artist, but without the art to show for it.
Lucky me!!

Fuck.
This post blows.

I'm not cooking dinner tonight, either.
I just thought I would share that with you.
(and yes, that was said defiantly)

Why am I always searching...?
Or better yet, what the fuck am I searching for?
I don't even know.
I just want to stop searching.
I want to start over.

I wish I had never met anyone who filled my soul with light and love because then I wouldn't have to live with the knowledge that it is possible and yet...unattainable.

I know I am probably coming off like the bi-polar queen of the world here, but I don't feel like my moods are swinging.
I feel like I am in stasis.
I feel like the giddiness of yesterday's post and the bitterness of today's post are exactly the same flavor.
Same texture, same color, same aroma!
I don't feel different inside.
Just expressing different thoughts.
Or...rather, yesterday I talked about Stuff and today I am talking about feelings.

I want so badly to read myself as a character in a book that I am constantly scrambling to step outside myself for the distant view rather than just Being.
I wish I could take a pill that would make me stop wanting things I'll never have.
I wish someone could look into my world and tell me, absolutely, what to do.
I wish someone could reformat my soul, and install windows on it...so much simpler, so many fewer bugs.

Or maybe I am sad
because once again
I am saying good bye to a friend.
For the last time.
It takes me a while to catch on, but I've finally realized it's what the friend needs.
So the friend shall be released.
I will not bother the friend again.

For richer, for poorer--

(holy shit, this is a long post...good luck...)

I am so excited I am bouncing up and down in my chair!!
Guess what I just did.
Just guess!
I purchased season ski passes for myself, my husband, and his 11 year old.
I am a little bit euphoric.
If you've been reading long, you'll know that I have only skied a few times in my life and have not always had the greatest luck *cough* out of control down the mountain nearly died *cough* so this will give me a chance to practice!!!
It will also give me an excuse to go shopping for ski clothes.
I discovered that if you're local and you buy early and if you're a student you get pretty fantastic discounts.
And look at that--my education's paying off already!
Not to mention I have no classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays so those are pretty much Ski Days.
Let's forget the fact that I am
TERR
I
FIED
of driving up the mountain in snowy conditions.
Turns my heart into a delicate southern woman in summer is what that thought does!
(makes my heart have fainting spells...get it? snort)
I am so fucking excited I can hardly stand it.
Hurry up and snow, already!!!!
Jeeez.
Stupid September.
Hee...
We'll probably take the twinners up for a lesson or two and just see how that goes this year...I can just see them refusing to put the skis on or refusing to go back after one day...stubborn little devils, they are.
But soccer starts on Saturday and this time they're both playing.
Did I tell you how Twin A came to Twin B's games in the spring and was a total backseat driver?
It was hilarious.
So I was not at all surprised when I asked him if he wanted to play this time and he said, "Yeah! Then I'll go out there and chase the ball EVERY TIME." He was practically grumbling, "I'll show him!"
Twin A also wants to take karate, and there's a good little Kung Fu class that I keep meaning to take him to, but it's year-round, open enrollment so I keep putting it off.
Gotta give this girl a fucking deadline, man!

Anyway.
I am on a high from all the organizing and phone calls and motherfucking PRODUCTIVITY.
God, I love it.

And.
THE BABY!!!
I got to go see my dear friend at the hospital and that baby is the tiniest (8 pound) little precious doll on the planet!
You always forget how tiny they start out, don't you?
And she confirmed that yes indeed she did fall in love with him in precisely the manner I had described.
You know....so dreamy...their every blink, yawn and stretch just captivates you, and you can truly spend countless happy minutes marvelling over each finger, each perfect little TOE!!
Oh, oh.
If only I could guarantee a MILD MANNERED daughter I would be all over that.
But since my boys are about as much to manage as 12.4 normal kids, I think I'll just thank my begeebus-scared stars that there are not more than 2 of them!
Dear little fellas that they are...
Ha.
As we walked from the school to the car today, they were cheerfully chattering away to me, each one having grabbed one of my hands without any prompting, and I was savoring the moment and then--totally un-fucking-provoked--Twin B brought the arm holding his jacket and backpack around in front of me to smack his brother.
NO.
REASON.
I caught this mom-of-an-exasperation-inducing-redhead-girl's eye just as Twin B said without a trace of guile, "I had to hit a bee." I'd say it even bordered on both smug and gleeful.
She grimaced back at me, knowingly, and I said, "He had to hit a bee," rolled my eyes, "Suuuure."

It's on days like this that I think--
Life is far too grand, and would be even better if only I had also stopped at the media big box store and replaced my long missing Throwing Copper CD.
And then I wink at you and say, "Oh, but I DID do that!!"
It feels like coming home, in a way.
That was the very first CD I listened to and loved every single song on it.
Blood Sugar Sex Magik was the first tape I loved every single song of...
and Paula Abdul's CD...um...Spellbound? Something like that was my first CD purchased.
It had Rush, Rush on it and that one line, "Even when you're right next to me you're still too faaaaar away, if I'm not inside your arms."
MELT ME.
God, I loved that line.
It gave me shivers.
Because isn't that just the way to describe love in its lusty stage?
Mmmm...

Yes, I'm in a good mood today.

My favorite, sneaky backway to school is having construction, making a breezy little drive along the northern part of the western belt route a congested, ugly mess.
Soooo....
I've taken to the surface roads and there is peace.
No one else takes Redwood because it's the slowest of the 4 main choices for north-south movement in this strip mall of a state.
Bangerter has lights, but they're widely spaced and the speed limit is high.
I-15 is for chumps, because that's the most widely travelled path.
And 215 was my Savior until they had to go and tear the thing up.
Psh.
Fuckers.
I used to glide onto that little fella and pour out into city traffic, skimming along the edge and taking the little travelled 400 south all the way east to my school.
But...it's just like The Raven quoth, ya know?
Quoth the Raven, "Yer fucked, m'am."
Or something.
And so, I break free of the pavement and taillight prison and slip along my Redwood Road, all the way to 400 south, where I shoot through
SEED-
Y
neighborhoods and past the free dental clinic
(with its long lines on Wednesdays) which makes my heart constrict with conflict
ing emotions--
I'm glad it's available for those in need, but being exposed to the breadth of the neediness of some makes me wither, shiver, ache a little.
Then, if I'm not careful, I end up passing the Shelter, too.
Or the park, with its raggedy, smudgy cluster of people waiting for something good;
something tangible, something that arrives while I pass, but I don't catch the words on the trucky-vanny vehicle.
Food? Meds? Dunno.

(for once I titled this post after writing it. Usually I title them with the first thing that pops into my head, my jumping off point.)

Ok.
My mania and I will amble along now.
I will go read an awesome book until it's time to cook dinner.
And maybe we will drive down to The U.C. to put some good dirt in the flowerbeds of the house we're (still) trying to sell.
They are laying carpet today, and the painters finished up last week, so with a few more finishing touches, it should be quite a little gem.

I'm sorry, one more thing--
have I mentioned the weather?
Fan-fucking-tastic!
Nice and cool morning and evening, around 80-85 during the day.
Fuggin sweet.

As if this post wasn't long enough to kill a forest of trees already,
here's a shot of the newly framed PAINTING!

I'm a real blogger, yes I am!

Especially now that my son's computer is fixed so I don't have to choose between peace and quiet and using my own computer...
ugh.
Anyway, I should have more time to spend catching up on all your lives over the next few days and I am excited to be a part of the blogging community again.
I feel like I've been making excuses for at least a year...maybe more like two...and that's going to end!

I'm trying to get all my links added to this new blog, but it's harder than it sounds, so just hang in there.
If I haven't added yours yet, and you're here, please let me know!!

I'm not so sure I have anything to say at the moment, but I wanted to say hello while I was here.

I think I'll go read a few of you for a change!!!
Wooooooot!

The concert was KILLER!!

Styx put on a great show,
and Def Leppard was stellar--despite the fact that their drummer appeared to have only one arm.
Who knew??
(Me, for one...)

Possibly more on that in a minute,
but while I was uploading the pictures from the show, all of which are far too glarey to see anything, I found the picture we took on the way to the show!!!!!
So, we live about 7 minutes in good traffic from the venue.
With a couple of "let's try to beat the traffic" bad decisions and the tremendously shitty traffic, that drive took us ONE HOUR AND 34 MINUTES.
Fuckin LAME!
So anyway, as we were driving along we saw this guy walking...
and erupted in laughter, quickly flipping a U-turn and going back to snap a photo.

I wish I would have had the real camera with us, but you can still see.
The dude looked
just
like him!
He must have been going to a party or something because he had the moon boots,
the jeans, and
the "Vote for Pedro" shirt,
but the hair was ALL. HIM.
Fuckin sweeeeeet!
For a second I thought it was realy him.
So sad.
We also passed this place called "Ab's Drive-In: Home of the Fat Boy"....
It cracked me up.
Abs and greezy burger joints do NOT go together well.

Anywho.
The "small penis" truck conversation from the last post reminded me that I forgot to post the best Moab picture of all!!!!

Heeeee.
Heh. Heh....
I can imagine a thousand-foot woman, made of blue mist and green vine hair descending on that protrusion to satisfy herself with an earthquake of an orgasm.
Giggle...giggle...

There might be a baby born today!
Dear D went to the hospital this morning and I haven't heard word yet if anything has happened.
She's ten days early, so I wouldn't be surprised if it was a false alarm, but dear Sh. has said it's her day, and you can't really argue with THAT!

Ok, I'm off to the gym.

Just a few tidbits to start the weekend out--

On my way to school this morning I was behind this enormous truck.
Now, no offense to any of you who may have one, but trucks like this make me think one thing, and one thing only:
SMALL PEN!S.
I know it's an unfair stereotype, and frankly, I'm sure there are plenty of men who drive trucks like that who are pleasantly endowed, but what the fuck is the deal???
So here's the truck I was behind:

Can you tell how little space there is between his wheels and the edge of his lane???
That was what caught my eye.
He leaves himself very little room for error there!
And for comparison's sake, I snapped a shot of a normal-sized vehicle.

Unfortunately he wasn't in the center of his lane, but you can still see the difference.

Anyway...

I planted raspberry bushes in the early summer and they have been producing some beautiful fruit.
I neglected them for a few days and lost a bunch of berries, but I have picked probably 6 cups full over the past few days, and I only have a couple of small bushes!


Also, our tripto Moab was phenomenal.
The kids loved it, just as I planned, and they are already antsy to go back.
I love it when they're ME!!!
I already posted a couple of the best shots on my other blogs, but I want to write a little about the pictures, so I'll put them here as well.


This is Delicate Arch, my favorite--everyone's favorite.
It's just so monstrous and lovely!!


This cloud formation I watched for miles and miles as we wound our way out to Dead Horse Point and my husband tried to get my kids to believe there would be dead horses there...they knew better!
I love how the top part of the cloud looks like it's erupting out of the lower clouds.
I dunno.
It was awesome.

Tonight: Def Leppard, Styx, Foreigner!!!
Wooot!!!
Happy weekend everyone...
thanks for being here.

Just a little scene from the walls inside my head--

Her heart throbbing in her ears, she clenched her fists and took a deep, if shaky, breath. She sprinted across the last of the grass and was only distantly aware that it was her throat producing the strange growl of terror she heard as if from the other end of a long hallway. Gravel sprayed out each time her bare feet slapped against the ground, propelling her toward the edge of the cliff. With a leap she was over the edge and the world around her went silent and still--just like in the cartoons, she thought.

She squeezed her eyes closed and there, typed across the blackness in 36-point, Times New Roman, "What are you doing?" was searing into her mind.

She felt the wind pushing her up, but not hard enough. For a mere murmur of a moment she panicked. And then her new instincts took over and the muscles in her back found their way to save the rest of her body from being dashed to pieces on the surf-sprayed rocks below. She felt the wind currents shifting aroud her and blinked, startled, as she realized that she was shifting them. She rose higher and higher, soon looking down on the cliff she had used as her springboard, her heart beating wildly with exhilaration, though not with exertion--this she would notice only later.

Lucky soared out over the bay, staying high above the water, hoping that no one would see her, hoping that no one would see the sun reflect off the irridescence of the butterfly-like wings that had recently sprouted from her shoulder blades. She let out a whoop of delight, which terminated with a giggle.

"I'm flying," she said softly.

"I'm FLYYYYYYING!!!!!!!!"

She laughed again and swooped low to get a better look at a mother whale and her calf. They were stunning, awe-inspiring with their sleek lines and graceful expansiveness.

*******

My mission, should I choose to accept it, will be to answer the questions of who is this girl and why do we care.
I hope I make the time to continue this story.

Have a happy weekend, all.

Don't look now...

But (for today, at least) I feel like myself.
Except for the fact that I'm about to hurl from the combination of brownies and fried eggs that constituted my breakfast, I feel pretty swell.
I found this poem on my MySpace blog, and I love it.
I do not feel that angst today,
perhaps overshadowed by my nausea,
but I still love the way it reads.

Dirty Laundry

You take out my soul and.
instead of folding it neatly and placing it in a satin- or cedar-lined box,
you wad it up like a sweat-stained undershirt and toss it at the laundry hamper.
You miss and I can feel-it-more-than-see-it
wilt onto the floor.
It tugs at me.
(Souls are difficult to sever completely)
In a blink you have tossed me aside, too.
I don't land so fluidly.

*****
So the newspaper is finally ready to hire writers for my section again...
The new editor said that he would be doing that, and said that former writers shouldn't take it personally if they weren't on the summer skeleton crew...
So...
I'm wondering if I want to jump down that rabbit hole again.
I loved it.
And I hated it.
There is more to learn, but...from a kid?
Maybe.
I probably won't do it.
But I might.
Something to think about, at least...

I took a whole battery of aptitude tests in an attempt to narrow down my Best Possible Career Choice.
Too bad I scored in the "superior" or "excellent" categories of 5 of the 6 fields.
The one I scored "below average" on?
Heh...
Mechanical.
Fuckin' shocker, that.
My Dad, whose genes I sadly got the lion's share of, is a mechanical genius.
So it does sort of surprise me.
But not really because, like, I'm a girl and stuff!
duh.
But I ROCKED Logic, Cleric, Social, and the other two that I can't remember right now...
It did NOT help me narrow down my career path.
There is still a 12 lane mega highway for me to travel to reach that destination.
I need to spend lots of time convincing myself that any path I pursue will have its ups as well as its downs, and I just need to choose something, fer chrissakes!
But it's hard to settle for any mortal career when you know you're meant to be a God(dess)!!
Ha.
I did, however, start to worry about the presence of my old blog/anything I may write from here until graduation as skeletons in my closet if I do become a teacher...
And how will I censor myself in my writing??
Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.
That's it.
I just need to write the most exquisite novel known to man and retire on my billions of dollars I'll make from its record-breaking sales.
Snort!
Ok, ok.
That's a little over the top.
But the point is, it really is hard to settle for any normal job when
A. hubby earns puh-lenty and
B. all I really want is to write.
Right?
Oh!
That reminds me!
Our newspaper mispelled a word in a headline!!!
It was sad, too...the headline was "Student parishes in car crash"....
My first thought was, "Whoa, how many congregations were involved there???"
And then I realized they had mispelled PERISH.
In the NEWSPAPER.
Siiiiiiiiigh.
I should really be a copy editor, shouldn't I?
It's what I do, after all.
Relentlessly, constantly I edit copy.
Furiously, disgustedly I correct spelling and punctuation.
Oh, not on my OWN work.
Puh-leez.
Like I'm supposed to be perfect or something?
Shuh.
As if.
But it is Super Fun to find fault with others, bitch!!
Hell yeah!!!

Ok, so maybe the sugar from my breakfast brownie is twitching through my veins and adding a little levity to this depressing ole blog, what do you think?
I say yes.

Oh....Oh, I want to work for the newspaper again!
Mostly, I just want to be involved in the new Editor in Chief's production.
That guy is my hero.
I have one of my rare non-sexual crushes on the fella.
See, I tend only to crush in a sexual way, no matter who the object of my lust is.
It gets a little tiring, frankly.

So it's a holiday tomorrow.
Labor Day.
Neither my kids nor I have school Tuesday, so we're very slyly using that to our advantage.
All the motherfucking zombies around here went south this weekend and whoever didn't rush home for church this morning (yes, the 'tards actually do cut their weekend travel short in order to not miss a single second of their precious church meetings and arduous commitments thereto) will be coming back to the metropolis tomorrow.
And WE will be going against traffic and have the fabulous weekend destination of Moab
all
to
our
selves!!!!
Wooooopeeeeeeeeee!
This will be a first visit for both my husband and my sons!
(should I stick an "s" on the end of "husband" to make people think I've taken polygamy to a whole new level? heee...I wish!!)
Anyway, we had such blazing success with our last little roadtrip that I'm hopeful it'll be a good family time.
I'll be rushing home to make an 8pm therapy appointment.
Which is so much more beneficial than sitting in a room being told you're not good enough and you never will be!
Therapy is the antidote to organized religion, in fact.
Heh.

Ok, well, I think I've gone above and beyond the call of blogging duty here, so I think I'll stop while I still can.
That sounded ominous, didn't it? Ha!
Like...if I don't stop typing I my fingers will meld to the keyboard and I'll be stuck here
FOREVER-EVER-Ever-ever-er....(that was an echo)

Ok.
Bye!

(Update: Tonight's Rainbow)