Archive for May, 2007


Vernon Robert Wells

May 31, 2007

June 20, 1925 – May 31, 2007

Rest in Peace

Just live that life. It doesn’t matter whether it is life or hell, life of the hungry ghost, life of the animal, it’s okay; just live that life, see. And as a matter of fact no other way. Where you stand, where you are, that’s what your life is right there, regardless of how painful it is or how enjoyable it is. That’s what it is.- Taizan Maezumi


Brain spewage

May 26, 2007
It's a day of uncertainty.  When I'm uncertain, my brain goes on overdrive.  I'm just gonna spill it all here.
So here's the deal with being a birth professional – time is wonky.  For example, in most other jobs, you know when you will be going to work, *where* you're going to work, how long you'll be there.  Not when you're a birth professional.  Not at all.  Right now I know my client is in early labor.  Good enough.  I know that eventually she'll be birthing at a hospital about 25 minutes away.  Check.  I know that at some point, I'll be joining her somewhere.  Right on.  But I don't know when (an hour from now? 6 hours?  12??) and I don't know where (her house first?  or straight to the hospital?)  and I most certainly don't know how long I'll be with her.  I might climb into my own bed to sleep tonight — or I might not get to climb into my own bed to sleep until tomorrow night.  No one knows. 
It's as if time somewhat stops when that phone rings and I hear, "I think this is it!!"  Time doesn't matter at that point because, frankly, I'm on someone else's watch.  Sure, I can still go about my daily grind, but always in the back of my mind I'm looking for the quick exit, the best parking place that will allow me to leave easily, etc.  I don't know when anything is going to happen — it's part of the nature of the game.
I wish other folks would get that.  Namely my husband.  Now, B is a great man and he is incredibly supportive.  He loves what I do and knows I'm damned good at it and that I love it (talk to me at 3am tomorrow and ask if I still like it .. oy!)  B has always encouraged me to do whatever I want whenever I want and that's just fantastic.  But good grief, I don't understand why he doesn't realize by now, several several years and countless births into it, that I don't know when I'm leaving and I don't know when I'll be home.  I usually just say, "By Thursday" and leave it at that.
Hank barks now.  All the time.  Not at strangers or noises very much (although he does do that,) but he barks to talk to us.  It's unreal.  He comes up to us and does that doggie howl and we all join in unison with him, but then he decides to bark when he's really serious.  I can handle it.  The boys love it.  It's loud and it does hurt my ears if he's close, but good night, Hank is just a talker.  B, however, does NOT dig this.  It's highly entertaining to me to watch B cringe and freak at the barking while the boys and I continue on our party line chat with the dog.  Ruff Ruff, baby.  Ruff Ruff.
JM Bill is camping this weekend where there are lions and leopards.  I wanna be there with her.
Speaking of Africa, I've been letting the boys watch Roots with me.  It's heavy and hard at times and we have to stop the movie every 10 minutes or so I can answer their questions and such.  It's a 12 hr film, so it's going to take us a long time to get through it.  That's fine — it certainly took long enough to live.  It's interesting to watch the boys experience the trauma and horrific nature of our history.  It's sad to watch that reality cross their little faces, but it's also so wonderful to see that they instantly understand the grave injustice of it, that it's NOT right, that it makes no sense.  It's a deep pleasure to see the look in their face that says so clearly, "Never again.  Never to another soul of any color, creed, race, religion, sexual orientation, political affiliation, etc.  NEVER AGAIN."  It's kind of like when Duck was mortified to see how eggs are collected on commercial farms and vow that he would only eat free range eggs.  It's a proud moment for me, a proud moment as a parent.
JP and her clan is out of school for the summer.  YAY!!!!  This year should be interesting.  Her youngest, D, is terrified of dogs.  Just terrified of dogs.  No matter what size or breed they are, this little "Ima get you sucka" girl is scared of dogs … and we have Hank.  Hank who is enormous and loud.  Hank who is nothing but a gigantic marshmallow but looks and sounds like a vicious beast.  Hank who brings me my slippers and will kiss you stupid for peanut butter.  He's awesome, but she won't be able to tell 'cause the poor love will be too scared to find out.  Guess we'll be visiting them a lot this summer instead of them coming up here.  Lovely.
I'm messing with my blog layout and such.  Expect random changes.  Ha.  Good lesson for life, eh?
Stealth has decided that he's going to be a video / computer game wizard.  He's well on his way.
Oh there's the phone ….

Phone wars, Round 1

May 26, 2007
Has been officially won by my client.
The phone rang this morning at 7.
Contractions started at 4 am.
In her back.
It's gonna be a long one, folks.

To the leader of BU

May 25, 2007

Since my girl, DDFF, cannot rightly express herself as much as she wants at the moment, I’m sending my boyfriend to do the job for her.

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Standing in the Correction Corner

May 24, 2007
I stand corrected — turns out I DO like the random chit chat — if it comes from the right people.
The homeschool picnic was wonderful – a zillion kids playing in the rain, good talks with the Mamas.
I believe it's time to re-invest in our homeschool group.  There were not many kids Duck and Stealth's age last year (or in years past,) but this year, there seems to be an abundance!  Watching my two boys play with 4 other homeschooled boys their age was *wonderful!*
Contrary to popular belief, I really love it when I'm wrong. 
After all, it happens so rarely.


May 24, 2007
I need to get in the shower.  There's a homeschool picnic sort of thing this afternoon and, while I'm not really excited about going, I know it will be good for Duck and Stealth.  I just really dislike the whole chit chat crap that goes on with parents at things like this.  It's what I've always disliked about playdates with random kids or birthday parties where the whole clan has to sit around and talk about Johnny's progress in multiplication or Suzie's newest science experience or Mack's latest discovery of the pleasure of eating boogers.  WHO CARES?
I've recently discovered that this tragic need to "talk to the parents" also bleeds into the dog park.  Doggie parents, or at least some of them, feel the need to have lengthy and personal conversations with the other doggie parents at the dog park.  Why?  Yes, I know we all love our dogs and believe me, it's no stretch to get me to talk about Hank for hours on end, but really?  Really?  Really do you need to come running to me and my children and my dog when we walk into the leash free area and start talking to me about your niece and your other dogs and life on the farm as if a) I know you, and b) we're best friends, and c) I care?  I understand the desire to be social, I do.  Believe me, I'm a social person and love to hang as much as the next gal, but honestly?  When I throw a stick into the lake for Hank to chase and I go to the *other* side of the lake while he swims, PLEASE do not follow me.  If I have my kids with me, I will talk to you so they don't witness me being rude.  But if I'm by myself, folks, read and learn – I'm interested in 3 things : My dog, my i-Pod, and myself.  The end.  Unless the Great Pyrenees pair are there (or the Great Dane (Hey Raleigh!  Hey Chester!  Hey Rexie!,) I'm pretty much gonna keep to myself.  Thanks.
And while we're on the topic of dog parks, let me just say this right here — If your dog is not social, do NOT bring her into the leash free area and then accost the other dog owners if our dogs make your dog nervous!  Dogs are pack animals and it is part of their nature, indeed an essential part of their nature, to check out other dogs and figure out who's the alpha, etc.  That means that some dogs bark, some dogs growl, some dogs go a little bonkers.  This is normal and fine.  If you'll watch, most dogs who do this are doing so with their tails wagging and smiling the whole time.  This is social and normal and important and, if you just chill the hell out and quit making your dog nervous yourself, they will be fine.  Let the dogs do the dog thing and in minutes, they'll be swimming and running and loving each other like they were all dipped in chicken treats.   If you know, in advance, that your dog doesn't dig well with others, DON'T BRING THEM INTO THE LEASH FREE DOG PARK.   This is just common sense.  If you don't get this, folks, you don't even deserve to have a dog.
I've learned that it's best to let stupid people be stupid and crazy people be crazy because they'll both take you down with them if you try to, even for a second, get them out of being stupid and crazy.  Stupid and crazy never change — they just add to their numbers.
I'm in the middle of this sick and twisted waiting game with my phone.  I'm waiting for the phone to ring.  Could be either a) my client's birth, b) my grandfather's death, or c) my FIL trying to resolve things with me after he fucked up horribly last week and I made him cry as a result of his actions.  Anyone care to guess which one I'm hoping for?  When you figure it out, let me know.
DDFF, class tonight?  No?  I know you have the show …..
B is the best husband ever.  The end.  Flowers twice this week, a gorgeous card that made me cry, he took the kids on a bike ride AND played with Hank AND is sending me paint shopping. Love him.
I need a new dress.  Or a few.
My friend, D is marrying E this weekend in Boise.  Lots of my girlfriends are gonna be there.  Love you, ladies.  Rock the Casbah for me.  And whew!  Another game of "I never…" that I don't have to confess to …..
Must. Go. Camping.  I'm thinking Tuesday …


May 23, 2007
 Libertas et natale solum.
Fine words! I wonder where you stole 'em.
Jonathan Swift

Aint it the truth?

May 19, 2007

About the time we can make ends meet, somebody moves the ends.  


 — Herbert Hoover

Well, I’ve done that now, time to move on

May 19, 2007
So yesterday I wrote the poor, woe is me post about everything that is wrong with my life and how I wanted to fix it all with booze.
And last night I did take care of it, for the time being, with beer.
And now I've done that and don't need to do it again.
With every crisis, I take one day to just lose it and be irresponsible.  Just one day.  Sometimes I choose the day.  Sometimes the day chooses me.  Yesterday, it chose me.
But today is a new day.  I feel like I've emptied all the gnarlies out and can start building on the intelligence and down to earth nature of myself that has kept me out of the shit pile for over 30 years.
So bring it, suckas.  I can handle life and all it's creepie crawlies.
Just be sure to bring some Ibuprofen along with you.

sometimes things just suck ass

May 18, 2007
Remember when we were younger?  Remember when we could have some sort of crisis and deal with it at a bar, tits out, tabs paid for?
Things ain't the same these days.
I'm 31, married, mother of two, friend to zillions, enemy of some (I don't even care enough bout them to count.)  I'm a professional, a business owner (two times over, thankyouverymuch,) an artist, a trainer, a master craftswoman, a joke teller, a drink maker, a midnight toker, baby.
But sometimes I wanna be that 19 year old who folks take care of.
I'm having a hard time.  There's a lot of stress and loss in my family(s) right now.  Everyone expects me to hold it together — after all, I've held it together for 31 years thus far.
My grandfather is dying.
My friend wants to be a mother but she cannot let go of her conscious enough to listen to her heart.
My budget wants to spend itself on fine shoes, lovely skirts, and beer, but I feel obligated to buy semi-gloss paint and ceramic tile.
I feel guilty about my grandmother's death oh so many years ago. … enough guilt that I'm sure I'll fuck up my grandfather's death.  That is why I choose to remain here instead of visiting.
My husband loves me and trusts me, but thinks I should deal with my grief sober.  What he doesn't realize is that I deal with it all sober and head on for 18 hrs of the day and I only look to get obliterated during the 8 hrs that he's home.  That, to me, is responsible.
Lily Allen said it all ….

Oh yeah, I'm fine,
Everything's just wonderful,
I'm having the time of my life.

Don't you want something else