Archive for July, 2007


For the love of Labs

July 31, 2007

Marley and Hank must be kindred souls.

Either that or Labs are all alike.

And there are 2 of the worlds worst dogs.


Perception vs. Perspective

July 31, 2007

I’m not sure where this post is going -I just know that the same thoughts have been circling my head for several days now and I feel like writing it down.  I can almost promise that there will be no resolution and it will end abruptly.  Consider yourself warned.  It, like me, is a work in progress.

These two words, Perception and Perspective, are so similar and yet are so dramatically different.  I love the English language for these kinds of things.  Soul and Sole – very similar, very different.  Lead and Led, Persecution and Prosecution, Salutation and Solution, etc.  But very rarely have I found a pair of words related like this that can make such a vast impression on a life.  It’s almost as if they are different sides of the same coin.

Yeah, I know, clear as mud.  Follow me, eh?  Like I said, I’m not sure where it’s going, either, but I assure you none of us will end up in prison, so what have you got to lose?

In the last 2 weeks, I have heard and read at least 3 things that have caused this word play to bounce around in my head.  Each of these things hinge on perspective and perception – and depending on which P you are holding, the hinge bends both ways.

Examples:  I was speaking to someone I am quite close to about an event that happened over 13 years ago.  This event happened to be infidelity.  The person I was speaking to was the person who was cheated on.  At the time it happened, I was friends with the one doing the cheating.  I didn’t know the Cheatee personally when it happened and I am no longer friends with the Cheater.  Bizarre, I know.  Anyway, when we had this conversation last week, I noted that my friend (cheatee) was still hanging on to some sort of sense of pain, rejection, anger, hurt, unfairness of it all.  This humored me to no end (sorry, sometimes I can be a bitch) because it really was no big deal, at the time, to my other friend (Cheater.)  It was just a part of what she did.  What, frankly, we all did.  We were just children, in our late teens or just barely out of them.  The event came and went and, well, you know, we grew up.

But it’s so strange that the perception of the Cheatee is that it was so much more horrendous than it was.  Or was it?  I mean, perhaps to him it really was that horrific?  Or, as I’ve aged, my perspective on it has changed and his hadn’t?  I mean, break ups hurt, sure, but can a loving heart be truly broken if there never really was “real” love there? 

Yeah, that’s so much more clear.  Ah hem.

Trying for another situation, that is so very similar it makes my head spin.  I can be a bit more detailed about it, though, because, well, this one involves me.  I can tell my own crap – not so comfortable telling other folks’ stuff.

Okay.  So I’m somewhat in contact with my ex-husband on a popular networking site.  And by “in contact” I mean that he writes these bizarre and rambly things and answers nearly every single one of the surveys that folks put out and, well, he’s entertaining, and why wouldn’t I read it?  Anyway … so he answers one of these survey things and one of the questions had to do with “what’s the worst thing your best friend ever did to you…” and he proceeds to write about how his best friend followed him to a new town, got a job in the same place as him, moved into an apartment a block away, and then stole his girlfriend and didn’t fess up to it for a month or so, etc.  It was very clear to me, as I read this, that my ex-husband was all still so upset and caught up in it.  I’m telling you, I read that and thought about it for a full 3 minutes before I realized that WHOAH, Mamakohl, you are the girl in this situation.  YOU are the girl that his best friend stole.  Ton of bricks moment, let me tell you, because get this — I had completely and totally forgotten about it.  It happened, oh, 12 years ago.

At the time, my perception was that it wasn’t that big of a deal.  It’s not exactly like my ex was all that, oh, loyal to me or whatever.  Who cared?  I was in college, for goodness sakes.  That’s what college was all about.  But not for him.  Nope.  Different perceptions. 

 And now, as an adult, my perspective on it all has changed.  It was horrible what I did to him.  Horrible.  I did a lot of horrible things to folks back then – and lots of folks did horrible things to me, but you know, that is just a part of life.  Having said all of that, the incident doesn’t hold any power over me, not even the power of guilt, because it wasn’t real …?

Again, with the rambling (and no I haven’t been drinking!)

Imagine you had a 2 carat diamond ring.  Now imagine that you had a 2 carat FAKE diamond ring, too.  How would you feel if you lost the fake ring?  The real ring?

Now, imagine that the real diamond ring was a gift from a long, long gone college boyfriend and the fake diamond ring was your wedding ring from your loving husband of 50 years.  If you lost both rings, which one would you cry more tears over?

Perception vs. Perspective.

I could go on and on.  It applies to aging, too!  I’m saggier than ever, I have crows feet around my eyes, wrinkles around my lips, I have more stretch marks than I can count with a calculator and abacus, I’ve found a couple of age spots on my forehead and hands, I groan when I get out of bed in the morning, and yet I feel the most beautiful I have ever felt in my life.  I feel so good about who I am, where I am, what I am that the rest of it just sort of falls into place.  And then there are those who also feel that they are at their most beautiful, although they are so fried and plastic that they crunch when you touch them (this is instance #3, but do we need more details?  I didn’t think so.)  Do they really feel that beautiful or are they just trying to convince themselves?  Does it matter?  It depends — on perspective and perception.

There are no right or wrong answers to any of these questions.  There are no good and bad, no yes or no.  Just thoughts, just mental discussions to have while you’re waiting for your nails to dry or for the person in line in front of you to pay for their toilet paper with nickles.  We all have our ideas, we all have our feelings, we all have our thoughts, our stories, our histories.  We all have our perspectives and perceptions.

Just depends on how you look at it.


October 9th, Baby

July 27, 2007


The first new album in 4 years comes out in a matter of weeks.

I need stronger reinforcements in my closet.

And some new undies.





The wandering tale of the Dixie Chicken and the Tennessee Lamb

July 27, 2007

I cannot even begin to tell the good time that B and I had Wednesday night.  OH MY ZUMLA, it was fabulous!!  I wish I could post all the photos and video clips, but that would take ages and ages and ages.  IF you want to see them, contact me and maybe I’ll send you the link to the album.  Maybe.  If you’re nice.  And send tofu salad.

So, basic rundown before I get to the pics:

  • Spent the day with B, sans kids.  Super fun, nice and relaxing, ahhhh.
  • Decided that the evening must be documented for our own personal memories as well as sharing the wealth with JM Bill who is stuck in Botswana where there is no Little Feat, much less Shakespeare’s, and certainly no Mamakohl.
  • Decided to go to Shakespeare’s for good eats and good times.
  • Walk back up to the Summerfest.
  • Run into my dear old friend, Jabba.  Haven’t him since 1999 – it was like Christmas!
  • Bitch and Kvetch that they are only allowing skanky beer outside to the tune of $4 / cup.  Proceed to spend many dollars on schwag beer anyway, all in the name of festival spirit.
  • Dance barefoot like a crazy fool for a few hours.
  • Scream and howl and sing myself hoarse.
  • Come home -spend 45 minutes scrubbing my feet clean.
  • Pass out cold.
  • Wake up and relive the night as many times as possible in my head.

 It was soooooo fabulous, soooooooo much fun. 

Click to enlarge or something ….


I think I may just pass out from the shock of it all…

July 23, 2007

I just got off the phone with B.  He tells me the following things:

  1. He arranged childcare (overnight) for Wednesday night.
  2. We have plans.
  3. We’re going to The Blue Note’s Summerfest
  4. We’re going to go see Little Feat!!!!  (one of our all time favorite bands)

My lord, the man got off the couch and managed to get himself (and me) a life!  I’m sooooooooo excited.  And I’m not on call, so bottoms up! 


Just ’cause I love it.

July 23, 2007



Thoughts at 1:16 am

July 23, 2007

My first thought is that, if B ever read this blog, I should write “1:16 am in the morning,” ’cause it pisses him off and that would be funny.

A gorgeous, wide eyed, calm and gentle soul entered the world last night at 11:58 weighing 7lbs 9.3 oz.  Baby Boy I and his brilliant, beautiful, amazing parents (yep, dad turned out to be a gem, DDFF,) are doing well and probably eating and nursing and blissing out on each other right about now.  Oh and, while this only means anything at all to me and DDFF, I’ve got to write it down here for posterity — Mom birthed in a nearly seated squat with squat bar *with a 40 minute old epidural* and Trum caught!!!  I swear, you’d have thought it was the first time that guy ever saw a woman squat.  Of course, the nurses put the damned bar in backwards and I had to fix it again, but you know, whatever.  This baby matches his mother in being amongst the most beautiful living things on the planet.  What a great birth!

Only thing better than a birth like that is being able to come home at a decent time (1:15 am, folks,) to a quiet house.  I’m still riding the birth high, but my children and my man are quietly sleeping.  I made myself a strong drink, came downstairs and put on some Ray LaMontagne, and started writing.  It’s my morning to sleep in and I’m not on call anymore … I might just make myself another small drink and enjoy my peaceful time a little while longer.  I believe I’ve earned it.

Bill, my client had Jill Scott with her today to listen to during labor.  I couldn’t stop thinking of you the entire time until I finally had to tell her the story.  You show up in the strangest places!

Stealth asked me to make hummus today.  Well, “Not Hot Hummus” to be specific.  Whatever.  Anyway, I get the stuff out and he climbs onto the counter and I realize that I’m out of lemons.  And limes.  Eh, poop.  Ah ha!  Not all is lost — I have OJ!  Okay, OJ it is.  Chickpeas?  Check.  Garlic?  Check.  Olive oil?  Check.  Tahini?  Tahini?  Umm, nope.  No tahini.   Crap.  Natural peanut butter!!!  Yes, natural peanut butter… check!  Cilantro… well, yeah, I have cilantro, but Stealth wants to use Basil!  Basil?  Really?  Basil?  Yes, Basil.  Okay.  Basil.  Check.  Cayene?  Check.  S&P?  Check.  Weirdest fucking hummus I’ve ever seen = best damned hummus I’ve ever had!

Just switched from Ray LaMontagne to a cd of Mitch Hedburg.  Sweet moses on toast — I might be online writing a bunch of shit for hours.  Waiting for an infestation of Koalas.

I’m not on call.  I’m not on call.  I’m not on call.  I’m not on call!

My friend, who was coming for a visit in August, cannot come because her boss is a wanker and decided to go to Aruba during her freaking vacation time.  Rat bastard.

The baby born last night was born in the same room where I gave birth to Stealth.  The last birth that I did in that room was an induction done without pain meds and the baby was close to 9 lbs 13 oz. over an intact perineum — -also a great birth.  I love that room.  It feels like home.

I want someone to follow me around with a stand up bass so that they can play some sort of slow jazz riff behind me while I talk thus making me sound so much more …. artistic.

I need to go to bed.  I wonder if I will be able to sleep?  I guess we’ll see….


Yummy JuJu

July 22, 2007

It’s Sunday morning – a damned near perfect Sunday morning. 

  • B woke up *early* to go fishing by himself which always means a happy man.  This is a good thing.
  • The boys played quietly and let me sleep in a bit.  Glorious!
  • Hank did not chase a cat while out for his morning elimination round.
  • I made the best blueberry muffins.
  • The windows are open and the birds are singing.
  • I finally have gotten myself a hairstyle that looks better the day after being washed – and I can literally crawl out of bed, shake my head, and be ready to go!
  • The client I’ve been working with for quite some time called a bit ago -she seems to be in early labor.  I *love* it when clients labor on B’s day off – no worries about childcare!
  • Said client is a long laborer, but once she gets going, she’s an exceptionally efficient birther.
  • All natural, no sugar added, strawberry applesauce.  ‘Nough said.

All I’m asking

July 21, 2007

is for 1 uninterrupted hour to work out a day.

Not 2 hours, like I’d like.

And also not 15 minutes – which is what I got today.

So, to the kids and the dog who feel my work out is a 3 person and 1 canine adventure:


Stay outside.  Stay in the basement.  Hell, stay in the closet, I don’t give a flying rat’s ass.  But if you see me working out and dancing,  if you see a yoga mat or hear some middle eastern music, if you get smacked in the face by a drop of sweat that flew off my brow – GET YOUR OWN FUCKING PB&J!


3 totally random, unconnected pictures

July 21, 2007

well, okay, 2 connected pictures and one random straggler….

 As we all know, the last Harry Potter book was released at Midnight.  No, I did not go to the launch party, but DDFF did.  In order for her to take her group of wizards with her to get the book at midnight, she had to stand in line and get  some sort of bizarre wrist band or some crazy garbage.  So we did that yesterday morning after my haircut.  They happened to be giving away free Harry Potter “glasses” so I snagged some for Duck and Stealth.


And finally, a picture of me and my Mom.  ‘Cause, you know, everyone needs a picture of themselves drinking tequila with their mother. 

Actually, apparently, we all need a REALLY SHINY picture of ourselves drinking tequila with our mother.