my kitty

Some asshole killed my kitty this morning. Hit and run. Marshmallow was a huge cream puff and he was such a good boy too. I'm going to miss him so much. My little snuggler. Adrian and I hugged after we buried the cat. He asked if the door was still open. I told him, of course it is. We are on this journey together. He was the first person I called. He's the only one I want to hug. We snuggled on the couch after I got home from FAU. We shared a kiss. He felt like him. But I don't know what to trust anymore. Half the time he feels like the man I married, and the other half, I just don't know that man. I miss that man. I miss my kitty too.

The Rainbow Bridge

inspired by a Norse legend

By the edge of a woods, at the foot of a hill,

Is a lush, green meadow where time stands still.

Where the friends of man and woman do run,

When their time on earth is over and done.

For here, between this world and the next,

Is a place where each beloved creature finds rest.

On this golden land, they wait and they play,

Till the Rainbow Bridge they cross over one day.

No more do they suffer, in pain or in sadness,

For here they are whole, their lives filled with gladness.

Their limbs are restored, their health renewed,

Their bodies have healed, with strength imbued.

They romp through the grass, without even a care,

Until one day they start, and sniff at the air.

All ears prick forward, eyes dart front and back,

Then all of a sudden, one breaks from the pack.

For just at that instant, their eyes have met;

Together again, both person and pet.

So they run to each other, these friends from long past,

The time of their parting is over at last.

The sadness they felt while they were apart,

Has turned into joy once more in each heart.

They embrace with a love that will last forever,

And then, side-by-side, they cross over… together.

sweeties and honeys

Be OK by Ingrid Michaelson (I remember posting this a couple of months ago, and I didn't feel ok. Today I feel okay. Not great. But OKAY...)

I just want to be okay...and... I am.  I know because...

When I'm in a hopeful mood, I call people 'sweetie' and 'honey.' I can't help it. My students, the cashier at the store, the car that just cut me off, they are all sweeties and honeys. Go ahead, sweetie, you must be in a hurry to cut me off like that...which means...I must be on the mend because I just called one of my perpetually off pace students honey and sweetie all thru a phone call. He was so lost in my maze of a classroom. It's not easy, virtual school. And now Jeffrey thinks his name is Sweetie. ;)

It sure does put them at ease though...when they're freaking out. It's my way of saying, I'm on your team, I'm on your side, I won't let you fail. I got on Jeffrey's case, but in a nice non-threatening way. "You must get to work Sweetie. I can't reel ya in any longer hon', you've run out of line already." Now if he does it again this semester, he'll get bitchy teacher. "Don't say I didn't warn you. I'm not taking excuses. It's not up for discussion." Ah, teenagers! What a game they play.


The sweeties and the honeys started yesterday at Target when I had to write a check, (my debit card was in a different purse), and I don't write checks often. So, I asked the lady, do you need my license? She disheartedly sighed 'yeah' and her sigh made me laugh out loud. I said, "Yeah I feel ya. I'm having that kind of week too." We LOL'd. Then she told me her mom was having her leg amputated in Jamaica that day and she just couldn't focus on work. OMGoodness, bless her heart. I know that feeling of not wanting to be at work because your heart is in another time zone. I used to show movies on days like that.  I called her sweetie, told her to focus on good thoughts, and left.

So, today, for some reason, it's all honey and sweetie and calm. Ahhhhhhhh! Everything is going to be okay. It could be worse, and it's not. I know for sure that eventually, I'm going to Be more than OK. I'm gonna shine. :)

creeping me out

Um, how does this blog have 942 page views. Who's out there? Voyeurs, or friends who log on to check in? Friends, you may comment if you wish.

???

Abnormally Attracted to Din

I love Tori Amos. Some of her songs are so deep, and leave you hanging...like 'Welcome to England.' I need to figure out what I like about this being left hanging lesson. It's on repeat. It must be a Good one I really need to learn. This song initially caught my eye because of the title. I used to give parents with children who have special needs a poem called "Welcome to Holland" (see below). It was a little hope while they coped. I feel like divorcees should read it to. Welcome to your new world. You didn't plan the trip, but now that you're here, you better get on with it and be grateful and happy and have some faith that in the end, there will be a victory.


Welcome to England's message is a lot less obvious.

"Welcome To England"by Tori Amos

Do a dance for me
Baby it is late still you pour me
a tall one...
Go on, let the liquid take off what you're on.

You’ve been down before
Boy and I like this
I’m in quicksand
I am sinking fast

Perfect, heal it
Because your other half has got himself
A devil’s excess or Access

Welcome to England, he said
Welcome to my World

You better bring your own sun, sweet girl
You gotta bring your own sun
Don’t you forget your
Bring your own sun
Just enough for everyone

Heels on, go on
Bang a tango but do not get tangled
Who can stay strong
When they only give us lies to lean on

When your heart explodes
Is it deathly cold
You must let the colors violate the
Backness the rest
A magic world in parallel
So leave your daily hell

Welcome to England, he said
Welcome to my World

It’s not a question, if I can
Fight by your side
And withstand
Anything but
But I forgot
That you said, girl
If you come…

You better bring your own sun, sweet girl
You gotta bring your own sun
Don’t you forget your…
Bring your own sun
Just enough for everyone

WELCOME TO HOLLAND

by
Emily Perl Kingsley

     I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability - to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this......

     When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.

After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."

"Holland?!?" you say. "What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."

     But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.

 So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.

The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place.

     It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around.... and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills....and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.

     But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy... and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."

And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away... because the loss of that dream is a very very significant loss.

But... if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things ... about Holland.

the wolf

On our family vacation last year in NC, when my friend and I escaped at night, we'd hang out at this tiny little cul-de-sac overlooking the river. You couldn't see much at night, except for the signage for the property and a picnic area with lights strung from the trees. While we were on our 'get the hell out of the cabin and away from the eight energetic children,' car riding adventures at night, I never noticed the house...until the day we left. The sign said, "ROCK BOTTUM" and I got goosebumps when I really looked at the property. WOW!

Besides the seriously creative name, this property is a beauty that lies along a rocky road, alongside a sparsely populated, very private patch of river, with a private driveway, 4 bedrooms, 3 baths and a wrap around porch on both floors. Plus the river created this tiny little atoll, a natural made pool, that is shallow enough to float in, but not deep enough, nor the current strong enough, to cause you to drift out of the pool if you were say, floating on your back in it. Floating on my back in water is one of my all time favorite ways to meditate. The water relaxes me. I can picture spending time at ROCK BOTTUM in every season. 

If that's rock bottum, I'm in. Bottums are a specialty of mine. ;) This property is also where I thought I saw a wolf one night, peering in my car window, just inches away (KUJO! came to mind). I was so frightened I jumped back in my seat and gasped. When I did this, the wolf sat down and wagged his tail. Wolfie was not a wolf, but a Shiba Inu/Akita mix. I don't know what his name was, but he was a very good boy, and at first,  I feared he was lost. It was freezing cold and he was cold. I loved on his frozen velvety ears and tried to pull him in the car so I could read his collar. He refused. Adrian is afraid of dogs so he wasn't helping get this dog in the car and I realized he could turn wolf on me at any second, so I let him go and we went back to the cabin. I tried to get him to follow us and he did for quite a bit. He stayed right behind the car for a while. I kept calling him hoping he'd come in for the night. He stopped following us though. I fretted all night if he was lost and freezing to death. 


The next day, when we arrived at the Rock Bottum cul-de-sac on our way back home, I called 'him' and he appeared below at the river and leapt from the steep slope below up to us in a sprint. He knew I was calling him! (My doggie voice is very animated. Doggies respond when I speak doggy). Wolfie was gorgeous in the day time. We decided to stop and that's when I became envious of the dog. He had the freedom to roam this acreage 24/7. You could tell this was his home, and that he knew every square inch of it. This might've been the happiest dog I'd ever seen. The girls went cuckoo over him and we stayed and played and loved on him for a long time before any of us wanted to get on the road for home. We all remember this as the favorite part of the whole trip. It was just the five of us, and Wolfie. Everything was as it should be.  


Although I feel like I'm at ROCK BOTTUM right now, I know things could be worse and many are dealing with struggles much more severe than heartbreak. I have to remind myself that my rock bottom is pretty lucky as far as rock bottoms are concerned. 


Plus, this property inspired me to have a rock hard bottom. I have nothing to lose by gaining more fitness. And nowhere to go from here but up. Still, it's kinda scary to be on the bottom of a bad situation, looking up, seeing the light in the distance, and knowing I have a long way to go before I'm shadow-free and shining again. Nowhere to go from here but up... but up.... but up... shut up now Dawn. But, the but thing is too fun to pass up. Butt up! Heehee. 

bring your own light

I watched this show about the Emperor penguins of Antarctica recently and it got me all choked up. Freaking penguins. The males babysit the egg for months in the harshest conditions while the female hunts for food. I immediately connected to the penguins. I've been the papa penguin and the mama penguin, simultaneously. I feel like I've stepped up for the team with warmth and comfort. I've definitely left the team in search of nourishment. If these penguins can adapt to the harshest elements and employ cooperative behaviors in order to cope, so can we. Right? Love survives. Light brings love. I know what I'd do for my family. I'm proud of my love for them. Despite the feeling that my heart has been played, ignored, burned and broken, I still love. My trouble is, I love the one I'm with. When someone leaves me, I move on, to love the next bird, who cannot fly, but will recognize me by sight and smell and sound and touch and taste.

That's what I know. That's what I saw.

I can completely empathize with the mama penguin who comes home with a mouth full of squid, barely escaping the darkness, to find papa didn't survive the winter. Just as I was thinking the thought, the damn penguin show shows me what happens to the orphaned babies and extra mamas and papas. Sigh. They adopt. They find a new mate. Survival, baby! Gotta live. Gotta hope. Gotta nurture. Gotta survive. Gotta love. Gotta be.

If I know anything about darkness, it's this.

The only way out is through.

and 

You have to bring your own light. 

How Beautiful, Emperor Penguins

truth serum

My friends are showing their true colors. Holy shit! I am overwhelmed with kindness and sweetness and honesty. HOWLLA! I love my wolf pack! It's a full moooon! Howl!

I must say, I feel lighter lately like I was treading water for a long time and my feet just found the sandy bottom. The sadness is gone. The fear has vanished. I was terrified last time I entered single motherhood. Three kids and a paycheck that is sometimes more burden than blessing. Who's gonna want me? Who's gonna want all that comes with me? Now, I'm more who cares, I'm free to feel what I want and to hell with all the people who say there's slim pickin's in the single world. Screw that thinking.  Last time, I went straight to dating, and trust me, there were plenty of fish. Match.com was quite the experience; I think I signed up just to see what was out there swimming in the sea. I went on one date with a guy who I made fun of (as I often did many of the men on there) because the profiles and the pics were sometimes so ridiculous. "Why pose with Donald Trump? Does that make you rich? What kind of person wants a new person to like them for that?" Trump poser guy wanted to meet the funny girl despite the insult. Turns out, that guy was a marine architect who helped design Trump's yacht. Woops! Lol. Then I'd get the, "what's a beauty like you doing on a site like this?" That always made me feel like such a Loser. I'd think....Damn, I must be really messed up in the head being on here...and if that's your clever way of getting my attention, you're mistaken. You better come up with something better than that buddy. I'm just not interested in serial dating and I just can't do all that again. Winks and views and lies and my foot in my mouth, no thanks.  I'm pretty good at putting my foot in my mouth, but who isn't, right? And if someone is  too busy judging what comes out of my mouth, that means they must be perfect, right? 


What I am interested in is the power of my truth serum. Here's an email from a male friend who kept inquiring about my marital status, but I kept a lid on it for a long time before I made it public knowledge. I shared the original blog with him because I trust him with my words, and my heart, for some reason. I trust you, JV Pretty cool. Here's J and I getting the truth of our friendship out in the open. JV inspired me a while back when I was ready to give up on my website. He reached out and sent me to what is now my support team, and pushed some wind under my wings just when I needed it.

J wrote:

◦                     wow. and here i thought i was never going to get an answer to my question from, oh i don't know... 4 months ago. how was i to know you were just building up enough content to give me such an amazing answer.

◦                     

◦                     a few things.

◦                      

◦                     1) you should write a book. channel everything here and do it.

◦                      

◦                     2) you are more than i ever knew you were. (how could i ever have known, though.) your strength is both arousing and inspiring. the next lucky one will be luckier than the first for having you as you are now after all your experiences.

◦                      

◦                     3) if i didn't have my amazing wife and child, i'd probably use every tool in the book and then invent some to chase you down and tame you. well, not so much tame...

◦                      

◦                     4) i look forward to keeping in touch and following your goings on in the meantime.

◦                      

◦                     your beautiful mess is awesome. talk to you again in, um... i guess may, right? : )


I don't reply. But I'm not offended. It's typical. But then he wrote this:

•    




◦                     hey. this has been bugging me almost since i pushed send.

◦                      

◦                     even as a flirty compliment of a harmless (that was the intention, anyway) nature, i don't think i needed to send those remarks to you (read: number 3).

◦                     i'm relatively certain you get them and hear them all the time- to a point way past cheesy cliches. so consider this my attempt to recall portions of my last email. namely number 3 in it's entirety.

◦                      

◦                     i figure you deserve more from guys than you may get a lot of the time. i've even seen the cheese pour forth outright on replies to your posts.

◦                      

◦                     and where we may never get to being close enough to where it really matters, i still don't want to be thrown into the list of "those guys".

◦                      

◦                     nevermind the fact that, while my wife has some quirks that drive me up a fucking wall, she's a most amazing wife and mommy, and i don't suppose said remarks showed much respect to her, either.

◦                      

◦                     fuck. consciences really suck sometimes.

◦                      

◦                     FYI- numbers 1,2 and 4 still apply.

◦                      

◦                     sorry if this seems like an odd msg to get. it was just bugging me. i'm getting more reflective in my old(er) age.

◦                      

◦                     talk to you in a few months, i suppose. peace.

•    




•     

•    


So I replied. 

◦                     Lol. Enlightened being you are. I blow off compliments, appropriate or not, faster than most I suppose. I do however love your honesty. You should delete. I want your wife to like me when I acknowledge your support in my book (?!). Friends we be! Don't be so hard in yourself. I'm like a drug. You just need to put me in the right category. 

                                                                         -THE END

I trust this J because he was honest. Now we're better friends. He

knows what I conjure up for him and he addressed the shadow, and he's 

a better man for it. For the record, I have this effect on males and females.

People are simply honest with me. It's flattering. They trust me with their fears,

doubts, secrets, desires, wishes, insecurities, shortcomings, faults.

I like that. I want all my friends to be as helpful and honest as J was. 

Offer support when I need support.  Make sincere apologies when required. 

My serum is potent. Potentially powerful, never poisonous, plausibly pleasurable, potent.

You just have to decide where you're going to put me. That's all. 

Shadows

There's a shadow in my day.

Of the eight types of intimacies (see below), I want them all, most of the time, not most, some of the time. When some of the eight became shadows in my life, I just had to step out, accept them as a part of me, and shine a light on them.  I know what my favorite intimacies are, the ones I cannot go without. Do you? I don't think we can have it all, all of the time. But I think it's possible to have them all, most of the time.

Want, and love. And friendship. And peace.

I really, truly do believe you can have it all. It just takes work. I'm a hard worker. It will happen for me. What to do in the meantime.... shine a light on it.

Eight Types of Intimacies

l. AFFECTION

2. SOCIAL

3. EMOTIONAL

4. INTELLECTUAL

5. PHYSICAL

6. AESTHETIC

7. SPIRITUAL

8. SEXUAL

swinging in the purple

I have this problem with my mouth. It has a mind of its own. It's like Tourette Syndrome, but not as severe. I don't want to shout out obscenities or anything, just cliches, taglines, mottoes, cheers and shit like that. If I hear it in my mind, I have to speak it with my mouth. It's great at sporting events. It's not always helpful at work. I call it clichettes, and it sometimes strikes me at inappropriate times and words are off my tongue and out my mouth before the thought can even complete itself. Like the time my boss (who has a bit of a crush on me, a girl just knows these things) at a work related function introduced his wife and I as 'his wives' to a spouse of new colleague. Most women would likely be silent and not know what to do much less SAY something. I murmured "Mormons" in a voice I didn't recognize as my own until I was giggling and staring at his wife thinking, did he really just say that? Then I can't believe I said that....and I can't believe how I said that. And it just flew out. No substances involved, I swear. Way too sexy for work. Way, way bad because now I keep having dreams about his wife. Not him, but his WIFE. WTF? Now I have to steer clear of him for two reasons, if I talk to him, he'll give me work to do, which is not good and I try to avoid whenever possible, and now I can't help but thinking his wife is a guitar playing, long haired, fair skin, wicked smart, compassionate, good looking, flamenco dancing, hottie. Sister wives is an interesting concept actually, but I'd rather be the man in that scenario. HOLLA!  Just kiddin'. Heehee. In a nutshell, having clichettes is a bitch. It's never boring though.

Now where was I going with this.... ummm... ummm.... I will have to work on this losing my train of thought thing... .it wastes time and I fancy myself to be somewhat of a time snob. As I mentioned earlier, my mouth has a mind of its own. I don't like small talk. I don't like talking to boring or stupid people. I also don't like to spend any time out of my sweet spot, or my zone. Brain researchers call it the zone of proximal development, or zpd. It's that place that exists in a healthy brain where all communication and understanding takes effort, but nothing is too hard, or too easy; overall, it's a good fit. Stress doesn't really exist in the zone. It's a peaceful state to learn in, to work in, and overall get things done in. I use my zpd to decide a ton of shit. Like when work comes calling, and I'm given too much to do by my zpd scale (1 means it will take a little bit of time and cause a little stress, good for the goodness of the planet,  or 10 which is the exact opposite), I deflect it like the eighties girl I am and I 'just say no' and maybe a 'whatever.' For sure, right? ;) I tell my boss to Find someone else. Period. I emphasize the 'F' here and the period, because I like words that start with F. Period. Fun. Fortunate. Fornicate. Formulate. Funky. Fearless. Fabulous........and....Back to the zpd, so I don't care how much you pay me to spend my time, if I don't want to do it, there's no convincing me.

I spend my days, handing out time slots in all genres of my life. Family. Career. Home. Health. In my mind, they're color coded. Red (Family, love is red), green (Career, bring in the green), blue (Home, invites calm), yellow (Health, increase vitality). Those are my primaries. Then there's purple. I like to spend a lot of time in the purple. I have always LOVED purple! Purple is sexy. Purple is royalty, magic and mystery. That's why my new bed set is purple. I found this lovely, demure collection of satin and velour madness, but I've had this rule about new bed-sets. And, well, I had no reason to buy one, or need one. But this one had Big fluffy pillows and teeny tiny ones in shades of eggplant, cream, brown. I have this thing about colors and this other thing, about bed sets. I had to have this particular bed-set! I shopped it down to over 65% off, for over a year at one store, knowing it wouldn't sell at the original price ($45 per tiny pillow and it went up from there)! I shopped it right down to one of a kind left of each item I wanted, got the last king left, all on double coupon madness. I'm in love with this set. And all things purple.

Why? Because, I know color stimulates our mood and I'm in a colorful mood these days. I have my indoor and outdoor hammocks in full swing, finally! I love my friends, my life, my kids, my job. (If I was a slave to my job, I'd quit it. Fortunately, I love what I do and I chose it knowing the pay wasn't great. I've never regretted it). And despite the trials and tribulations of my journey, I'm a happy cat. It's not like it's some secret success formula. It's as easy as ABC's. 


A: If you do what you love, then you'll love what you do. 


B: Spend time with those you love. 


C: Change your bed set when you enter a new relationship. 


Better yet, let me be less obscure and more obvious, never lie with two men on the same bed set. Now if you're a hoe, that could get expensive. Maybe you should consider being less of a hoe. This means you choose who you lie down with, and give your body to, your spirit to, with more care than you do your bed set.

As far as my ideas on what's for the good of the planet, I'll be saving those words for another time because it's time to pull the reins on this ride so I may ride of into my purple world and maybe take a nap made of milk and honey and calm. May the force be with you.  

F@CK me already, no, really!

It's state exam time which means I'm slammed at work. I'm also an adjunct professor at FAU this semester, only because I felt the urge to cross off a 'to do' from last year's list. "Write Dr. R and thank her for hiring you last summer, invite summer employment, etc." I didn't expect her to invite me to teach this semester, but how could I say no when I could really use the money and the experience. So I have time to teach teens by day, parent girls by night, teach aspiring teachers (on Tuesday nights-until 10pm, way past my bedtime!) every week, and I'll get up and go as promised, even though right now I feel as sick as a dying dog, and I know I have to do it all over and over again for 16 weeks. Alone! It makes me sad to think I now have no one to take care of me when I'm sick. Adrian always took care of me. I got hour massages 3-4 times a week. A workout he loved and a pleasure that spoiled me right up until the final days. So, I'm down, that's for sure, but I'm also peeved to still be dealing with stolen identity crap.

I do not have time for thieves! Five phones were recently delivered in my maiden name. I only bank in my maiden name. I didn't order any phones. So, what else could it be... then the call comes, private caller, I don't answer. A very distinguished sounding man tells me the order was an error and UPS would be back to pick it up if I could just leave the package outside. Fuck! I wish I answered the phone. I would've been able to tell him off because he didn't identify himself by name or affiliation, and he blocked the call, only a dumb ass crook does that. I'm so glad I'm not a dumb ass.

Again, with my stolen identity. I apparently ordered a large screen TV from some online vendor back in September, and I caught that one because it came in my maiden name too. Hmmmm. Thankfully I write my maiden or hyphenated name on all bank documents because that TV envelope one looked like junk mail and I was about to toss it when I realized the name.

But, what I don't understand is how I could open a Sprint account when I have a fraud alert with everything fucking credit agency. How, how, how? When the cop comes, he tells me someone stole the identities of all the officers at his stations and even his income tax return was cashed because of it. The fucking cops! I asked him isn't there a rule, a mob/cop rule about that!? He laughed and asked 'who' I live with and said he could see that I have kids. I told him there's a rule about those kinds of questions and sent him on his merry way. Plus, I've seen that cop film, the one with Ray Liotta, I think and the long haired lady, (I suck with names). That movie freaked me out; he knew the codes and was above the law. That's another reason I have never and will never date a cop. There's just something not right about a guy who loves a gun. Unless he's a cowboy. Rules for cowboys (see below) make me want to find me a cowboy. And I don't even like country music. But I did meet this guy coming out of my daughters' performing arts studio last year. Apparently he's a pretty famous guy. I just wanted to watch him play and sing because I saw the door open and the music was really loud (it was rehearsal Jake Owen at Round Up). I didn't know who he was because I don't much like country music. But he didn't look country and they were playing Stone Temple Pilots or Metallica, I can't remember, but I know my STP and Metallica, and this was a country bar he was playing in. I'm not big on guys in tight jeans with cowboy boots and hat, or guys that hunt. No thanks. But, if you read over their rules, that my friends, is a mighty fine man. And this cowboy wore surfer shorts and flip flops and by looking at his career, he hunts dreams instead of animals. Hmmm. Next time I'm offered tickets, I'm saying YES! But, that was when A and I were trying to fix each other. I ain't broke. I can tell you that. Neither is he. Together, we are broke. Not apart.

This is a strange, but interesting time for me, nonetheless. Stolen IDentities, Surfer Looking Cowboys, Clueless Cops, Mafia Bosses, and the 10 Commandments.  I'm an original sinner (4, 5, 8 and 10 to be honest). 4/10! Oh my!

The BBC reports that when Italian police searched a Mafia boss' hideout, they found a list of ten rules for proper mafioso etiquette.  

1. No-one can present himself directly to another of our friends. There must be a third person to do it.

2. Never look at the wives of friends.

3. Never be seen with cops.

4. Don't go to pubs and clubs.

5. Always being available for Cosa Nostra is a duty - even if your wife's about to give birth.

6. Appointments must absolutely be respected.

7. Wives must be treated with respect.

8. When asked for any information, the answer must be the truth.

9. Money cannot be appropriated if it belongs to others or to other families.

10. People who can't be part of Cosa Nostra: anyone who has a close relative in the police, anyone with a two-timing relative in the family, anyone who behaves badly and doesn't hold to moral values.

Compare it to Gene Autry's Cowboy Code from 1930.  

1. The Cowboy must never shoot first, hit a smaller man or take an unfair advantage.

2. A Cowboy must never go back on his word, or a trust confided in him.

3. A Cowboy must always tell the truth.

4. A Cowboy must be gentle with children, the elderly and small animals.

5. A Cowboy must not advocate or possess racially or religiously intolerant views and ideas.

6. A Cowboy must help people in distress.

7. A Cowboy must be a good worker.

8. A Cowboy must keep himself clean in thought, speech, action and personal habits.

9. A Cowboy must respect women, parents and his nation's views.

10. A Cowboy is a patriot.

The original Ten Commandments.

1. Thou shalt have no other gods before me  
2. Thou shalt not make for thyself an idol

3. Thou shalt not make wrongful use of the name of thy God

4. Remember the Sabbath and keep it holy

5. Honor thy Father and Mother

6. Thou shalt not murder

7. Thou shalt not commit adultery

8. Thou shalt not steal

9. Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor

10. Thou shalt not covet

P.S. I thank my girlfriends who text and say, 'were you drunk when you wrote that?' because it forces me to go back and reread and edit certain posts. Not that I want to edit the thoughts, but sometimes the grammar is fucked up. Oh, and if you're wondering, I don't really curse in person. I save cursing for close friends and Big occasions. ;) So, if you don't like the cursing, I'm so sorry, but get the fuck off my blog. ;)

My Fugly Possum

A possom messed up my mojo yesterday. There I was, giving the pool and patio some love, ready to clean up and there he was, shacking up, being ugly, and dying. CRAP! Why now? Fugly, creepy, tail of a rat, and face only a mother could love, the saddest looking marsupial of all, why are you dying in my side yard, wtf?!  Who am I gonna call? Really? Now? (Ghostbusters and Maroone come to mind).

In the morning, he appeared to be playing possum, until my neighbor poked him and then he closed his mouth. By late afternoon, the flies started swirling, and then I knew, he was no longer playing possum, he was dead. How am I going to clean up the patio with a dead or dying varmint? I almost vomited on that idea and omitted it. I'm going to have to hire someone.

Pool love requires manual labor. Pool love isn't going to be free because I don't do possums. Snakes, now snakes, I can do. Snakes want to get away from you as much as you want to get away from snakes. But pissed off possums, they may fight back; it crossed my mind he could be a 'she' in labor. Anything is possible in my mind. All this disturbs my mojo. I'm starting to wonder how long I care to tend and mend this home, and its yard, and its pool, and its insatiable desires.  I have desires all my own. And they don't involve fugly (that's fucking ugly, in case you were wondering) possums. Marsupials that are warm and fuzzy, like kangaroos or koalas, sure, but possums, are not on my list of desires.

I wonder if I can find a bighearted handyman, named Manuel Labor. Wouldn't that be fun? True story: I had a student once named Female. When I asked this youngster how she got the name she said her mother didn't know English (they were fresh out of Haiti) and she misunderstood the question on the birth registration form. So, in America, she's Female. LOL. I kid you not, all her school forms said Female. Plus, no one cared to ask, so they all just called her by that name. The lunch lady, the other teachers, even her classmates until I came along. I wish I remembered her name, but of course, I can't, because I suck with names, but she liked my class. She, that is, Female, always smiled when I pulled her out of class to come to her 'special' class. I have a picture of that class somewhere. I bet I'll remember her name if I can see her face. I'm great with faces. Never forget a face. I never do.

I also don't forget promises. I try to never make a promise I can't keep. It's hard to never make a promise you can't keep. I promised to love despite all else I see. I will not be deterred by a possum, just momentarily derailed. How am I to take care of everything without missing something? A rental property is looking practical given the times. Still, I cannot fathom the idea of moving right now. It's there in the back of my mind, but right now, I'm staying put, and cleaning up, and loving on my home like I promised myself when I started the year. Love above all else. Choose love above all else, in all things I do, and it will become a habit, above all else.

Nine Inch Nails - Down in it