So so so sad about the death of Robin Williams.  Mixed bag of emotions, reading all will explain.

I learned of this tragedy early yesterday afternoon and have spent all this time trying to find my words, trying to settle my brain. Time isn't helping.  I hope writing will.  There is deep and great sadness over the loss, for the entire human race, for me as an individual and for the family he leaves behind.  Robin Williams was a singular giant and a gifted talent. He was contagious and touched us all.  His presence among us was nothing short of magic. The "Greats" come and go.  New "Greats" take their places. But some people leave a mark so wide and so deep it can never be refilled.  It becomes a void when they vacate this plane.  Robin Williams, the loss of the gift of himself, leaves such a void.  He will be sorely missed by all and by me.  I am sad he is gone from amongst us for now.

Many of the condolence messages and comments have included the familiar RIP - Rest In Peace.  Peace - yes.  But resting?? Seriously?  Robin Williams couldn't sit still in his own body, I can't imagine his spirit being contained!!!! I know he will get the answers he deserves, then watch over his family in true Robin Williams style.  The rest of us he will watch for new material.

I never met Robin Williams but his work touched my life. God Bless Him for his magic!!  My mother is long gone now. One of my most precious memories of her is watching her watch "Mrs Doubtfire," and laughing so hard she couldn't breathe and tears ran down her cheeks.  Even trying to explain the movie and his performance to someone who hadn't seen it yet, she literally double over holding her tummy and laughing till she cried again.  Thank you for such memories.  Thank you for such a legacy Robin Williams.


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Beyond the grief, it is the apparent suicide of Robin Williams that has me rattled.  If you've never experienced severe depression, you will think me callous.  I'm not. If you have experienced it, struggled with it, then you must understand where I'm coming from.  A fan since his Mork and Mindy beginnings,  I was aware of his struggles.  The moment I heard the news of his passing, I was stunned, but I wasn't shocked.  I felt relief for him. "Finally, peace for you my brother."  I believe in life after death. I could imagine him, his bruised, and tired soul being welcomed into the outstretched arms of Love - of The One who has the answers and can and will help him feel whole again. On some level I felt a tinge of jealousy.

So many times I've faked my way through my day behind a happy face that wasn't real inside.  So many days I wore the brave face even as my bravery diminished by the minute. When it's dark and painful inside, and you don't want to frighten the people you love, your face learns to hold a deceptive pose.  I have struggled with depression.  In the very recent past, it's been severe enough I wanted OUT.  I wanted out of this world, out of this life.  I wanted out of the alone-ness, and out of dispair.  Exhausted and lost, I longed for peacefulness and rest.  Suicide became a desirable option.  I wanted to end my life.  I don't know why I reached out, still haven't figured that out yet, but I did.  I contacted someone I knew would try to pull me back.  I'm still here - but, still struggling.


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I have read a few comments today in the media, "cowards way out," "act of selfishness". These words anger me.  I'm sure there are probably a number of reasons why someone considers ending their life.  I don't believe for a second Robin Williams was a coward. I believe he was tired.  Just done.  Selfish?  In my mind a selfish person is one who thinks only of themselves, getting gain for themselves and mean spiritedly trying to make sure no one else has any happiness.  That was not Robin Williams. 

Every now and then, life happens in such a way that blatantly reminds me I’m not as smart as I like to think I am.  For some reason, it can never be just one singular incident either. Ever notice that? It’s like there's a special Vault somewhere that holds My Biggest Stupid until it builds up to a point where it can longer be contained. If I let the door creak open just a little bit, the rest has to come tumbling down domino style until enough pressure has been released for the door to close again. Sometimes it can take a day, sometimes two, sometimes more. My daughter Piper, has learned to recognize these days and prefers not to stand too close. She's afraid the condition may be contagious.  She's been keeping her distance lately.

Monday, July 21st, 2014

The Morning Smack-Down; when dressing, I’m a one sock, then the shoe, then the next sock and the next shoe person. Monday was no different. I followed routine. First sock, first shoe, reach for the other sock - - - where the hell is the other sock?? I had two, I know I did, they were a matching pair.  I set it right there, right there on the counter where I always put it. Noooooo sock.  WTF??!!  I looked up, I looked down. I looked in things, under things, behind and beside things.  Nooo freakin sock and I had to get to work. My rational self tried to save me, “just get another pair, for crying out loud and get on with it.”  “NO!!! I want THAT sock damnit!” I was being confounded and befuddled by a sock, UNACCEPTABLE!  I had reached that point where frustration turns into obsession. To move on would be admitting defeat – no pun intended.  I was not ready to admit defeat – still no pun intended.  The search ensued.  Finally I had to give in or be late for work, FINE!  I’ll get a new pair of frickin frackin #!@^%# bleeping  socks!! I grumbled all the way to the dresser, SNATCHED a new PAIR, and growled all the way back to the bathroom.  Took off my shoe, took off my sock, put on a sock from the new pair, put the shoe back on, lifted my left foot to sock it and, there, already ON my other foot was THE missing sock!!! Five full minutes people! Five full minutes I marched around growling and grumbling over a stupid sock that was already on my foot!  And that old door on My Stupid Vault began to creak.  I should’ve stayed home.

Afternoon Smack-Down. With A Splat; I babysat for Tad today, the three and a half year old I’ve been with for three years. His Mom bought NEW paints over the weekend.  (Yippee!!! NEW PAINTS!!) Then she suggested we could take the easel outside instead of rolling out the long roll of paper across the deck like we usually do. Sure, ok. But wait, it was pretty windy outside, was this really the best idea? Sometimes I really struggle with not allowing excitement to override misgivings.

And creak, creeeaak, went the door on My Stupid Vault.

I hauled his easel outside, set it up on the deck, hauled out the paints and the big box of supplies; brushes, sponges, and plastic plates for palette’s. Tad is very helpful. Tad is very self-confident.  His self-confidence surpasses his abilities.  He is also smart enough to know that if he doesn’t ask permission, he won’t hear the word “No.” As I was unpacking supplies, he was unloading the new paint. Literally. Before I realized he'd done it, he’d opened all sixteen bottles, six of them glitter loaded, and emptied a large portion of each onto multiple clear plastic plates.  He also didn’t recap any of the bottles.  Paint bubbled and oozed down the sides of plastic bottles, pooled on the table, and was smeared all over his arms and clothing from where he’d wiped his hands.  Deeeep breath, 'it’s all water soluble' became my mantra.  Water, we were going to need water - and lots of paper towels.  I ducked back into the house, grabbed water and towels and when I returned he was already brush in hand going at the blank paper with goopey globs of paint. Big sigh. Nothing to do but sit down, sit back and watch. Help if needed or invited.

Here’s the layout of the situation. The easel is in front, mid-deck. Tad is standing at the easel, I am sitting directly behind Tad with the supply table just inches to my left. He had easy access to everything he needed. After a few minutes of watching him go at the paper with the brush tight in his fist, bristle end coming out from the pinky side of his fist, you know, the way psychos hold knives in movies when they’re about to stab someone to death, I couldn’t resist the urge to teach the correct way. He handled the correction with appreciation and grace.  Then the wind shifted. It shifted to come at us from the direction of the easel. Which wasn’t a problem initially. Tad was shorter than the easel so he never even knew. I was taller than both of them, it was hot outside so the breeze on my face was welcome.

Tad reached a point where I could tell he’d run out of ideas of his own but wasn’t ready to pack it up and stop. “Would you like me to teach you something really cool and really fun?” Well, who can resist that? “Yeah, what is it?” he was all eyes and excitement. “The Splatter Technique,” I told him.

And creak, creeeaak, went the door on My Stupid Vault.

I arranged new paper on the easel, took the brush, soaked up as much deep blue glitter paint as I could with the brush and BLAM, BLAM began flicking the brush at the paper. I flicked low because I could aim. Oh WOW! Droplets sprang from the brush and splattered on the paper in the most amazing array. Tad was fairly vibrating with “I wanna do it, I wanna do it!” So I handed him the brush.  He loaded it with paint like he'd seen me do, then made the flicking motion he'd seen me do.  Nothing happened. The paint was too thick for his level of flicking strength. “Hmm, I know,” I told him, “we’ll water down the paint so it will come off the brush easier.”  I had him choose only three colors to work with this time.  He chose and I added water. until I was certain the mix was thin enough for him to manage.  He turned toward the easel, paint brush dripping from the overload he’d supplied it with, took a deep breath (remember, the wind is coming over the top of the easel right at me, which wouldn't have been a problem IF HE COULD AIM WORTH SHIT!), and flicked that damn brush with all his might! FLICK, FLICK, FLICK! The majority of it went flew over the top of the easel and WHOOSH SPLAT! WHOOSH SPLAT! WHOOSH SPLAT! Right in my friggin face and down my shirt!!  He never even stopped to look back. He reloaded faster than I could move – you see I was a bit STUNNED – and reached back clear to Kansas to power his thrust, and FLICK, FLICK, FLICK!! At that moment I was at odds about which was more dangerous, his wind-up with a poke to the eye, or the backsplash from the release! I reached out and grabbed his arm mid-fourth-flick. He turned around and looked at me and with all the innocence only a three year old can possess, he said, “Why Darcy, you have paint on you.”  Yeeeeeeeeeeessssssssssssss . . . . . . . . . . .!*^&#% . . . . . . . @!^&#^%*. . . . . . I stood up, “If you want to continue this, after I’ve cleaned myself up, we are going to work on your AIM!” And I’m standing to the side!!  He waited while I got cleaned up and then we worked on his aim. I did not sit behind him.  The rest of that painting experience turned out fine. He even finished with a piece he really liked.

You’d think that was the end of mishaps right?

The Frosting On The Cake – or in this case GoGurt;  In case you don’t know what GoGurt is, it’s yogurt packaged for healthy snacking on the go.  It comes in a long, narrow, plastic tube or pouch. Like good old fashioned Otter Pops.  When you’re out and about and need a protein snack, you grab one of these babies, rip from the score on the top end and suck it dry. It’s all the rage of young mother’s and highly active persons these days.  I know about these.  Not because I’ve consumed them myself, but because I babysit children whose mothers are concerned with providing a better nutritious choice for their children.  Having dealt them out before, I know there is always a messy little splurt of yogurt if you rip the package.  That’s why I began using scissors to open the suckers. 

So today, late this afternoon . . . . . . . . 85 degrees outside, after leaving Tad’s place.  They don’t have air conditioning so I was already hot, sweaty and uncomfortable, not to mention struggling with heat related menopause issues. Got the picture? I HAD to make a stop at Target before I could go home to find pants for the following day. Target, in cooperation with what is called a “Flash Day” here in California (community participation in energy conservation), has their storewide AC set to 79 degrees. How bad do I need these pants? Pretty damn bad.  The place I’m babysitting tomorrow doesn’t have AC either and it’s supposed to be even hotter.  Watching these guys in this heat in jeans is killing me! So I have to just deal with the heat a little longer until I find what I need, right?

Clothes shopping is a nightmare for me.  I HATE it!  I’d wandered the entire clothing section, had about a hundred different things to try on and Target fitting rooms have a six item limit. Not to mention less air flow than anywhere else in the store.  Seven different trips into the fitting room, six items each time. You bend over, take off your shoes, take off your pants, try on a new pair and do the process over again and again and again. All this extra physical exertion had pushed me over the heat-o-meter edge. Every time I bent over, sweat dripped off my nose. By the second trip into the black hole, I knew I was getting dehydrated. I began fantasizing about GoGurts.  This was a Super Target. They had groceries.  I needed cool, sweet, refreshing deliciousness to for the drive home.

I finally found some pants that worked, got the GoGurts and headed for the register.  Should probably grab a bottle of water too I thought to myself.  Nah.  I've these cold, creamy packets of yogurt delight.  And on past the water I marched.  Paid for my purchases, got everything loaded into the back seat of my car, got situated behind the wheel, no scissors in the car so I carefully tore the top of a strawberry GoGurt.  There was a tiny package splurt but I was too hot to care.

I eased into traffic and slurped in my first mouthful. Ahhhhhhhh . . . . . . delicicious! Sooooooo awesome, soooooo wonderful this little package of GoGurt. I started feeling pretty smart. Slurped in my second mouthful, even better! I started feeling really darn smart.  I began to forgive the earlier annoyances of the day.  Wait, uh-oh, half the yogurt is gone and what remains is in the bottom half of the tube, eight inches down.  I realized the only way to get the rest out would be to squeeze from the bottom and pushing the remaining yogurt all the way to the top like a tube of toothpaste.  That would require two hands.  I am driving. I figured it was going to be alright because when I had to stop for the next red light, I’d just squeeze it up and get all the rest. And here’s the next light and it just turned red.  So I stop.  Finally the cards are stacking in my favor! I took my hands off the wheel, held the packet at the bottom with my left hand, squeezed the yogurt up far enough to make room for my other fingers, and with my right thumb and side of right forefinger I started the push.  Nice and slow. Mouth open and I’m ready for it. About four inches up, the outer package is slicker than snot with condensation and my fingers slipped - SlllllooooOOOPPP  KAPOW!!!!  Pink sticky yogurt blasted like mashed potatoes out of a potato rocket all over the inside of my car!! And me!!  Uh, uh . . . . . . I was dumbfounded! It had happened so fast I was stunned!  Drip, drip, drip! Everywhere I looked was splashed with giant gobs of pink drippy goo. Yogurt dripped from the ceiling onto my body, slid down and dripped off the rear view mirror, windshield and steering wheel. It was sliding down the dash, oozing into the AC vents and all the little cracks and crevices. It dripped from my cheek and my hair.  It was all over the passenger seat, my purse and my bag!  It was dripping off the glove compartment onto the aluminum windshield cover.  Damn shit damn!!!!!  And then the light turned green.

I guess it took me a second too long to move because the guy behind me honked. I crossed the intersection and pulled into a parking lot. What’s the first thing you do when you have something yummy you don’t want to waste fall on your arm? Ten second rule right? Knee jerk reaction – you lick it off right? Well I’d forgotten I put fresh sunscreen on my arms before I left Tad’s house.  In case you’re ever tempted to find out what strawberry yogurt and fresh sunscreen mixed together taste like, I’ll save you the trouble.  Combined, they taste like bug repellent.  No water in the car to clean up with or drink. Remember, I thought about it at Target but talked myself out of it.  Smearing the goo around with non-absorbent McDonalds napkins was the best I could do for a semi-clean-up till I got home. I walked in the door, smeared yogurt on top of paint splatters from my head to my knees, hair totally gunked out, purse and bags at arms length, a tale of woe and angst carved into my face.  Piper took one look at me and took several steps back, "Let me know when it passes and let me know if you want to talk." I shuffled past her without a word.

No water?!  Creak, creeeaaakk, creaaaaaaaaaaaak went that door to My Stupid Vault and BANG right upside the head!  The biggest trouble with the Vault, is that once the door is open all the way, Stupid shit leaks out for days. Don't believe me?

Day TWO of the leakage was yesterday - yesterdays blog post, The Follies Derriere! Day THREE was today.  I don't want to talk about it right now.  I'm hiding in my room again and the door isn't closed yet. 
  

Six words you never want to hear from the radiologist who is first checking your X-ray (while you are still on the table); “Oh my God, what is that?!” Followed by, “Better call her doctor and see what she wants us to do. For now we better get her off the table.”

Yikes! I went from 0 to 60 on the panic meter in a fraction of a second.  Both radiologists, a boss and a trainee, approached me with care. “Um, Miss Drayce, there seems to be a problem. Are you hiding anything on your person you shouldn’t have in here?”

“Excuse me?" I was dumbfounded. What the hell kind of question was that?!  Mind you, I’m standing there in nothing but a hospital gown and socks with my bare butt hanging out, where was I going to hide something?

“Did you by any chance swallow a metal bar recently?”  Blink, blink, “A what?”

“There’s a metal bar appearing in your X-ray.”  Blink, blink, blink, blink, blink, "A what?", I was still trying to comprehend what was being asked of me.

 "A metal bar".

I've been accused of many things before and sometimes with good reason, but swallowing a metal bar? Never. “I’m really sorry about this but we’re going to have to ask you to lift your gown and inspect you front to back.”  I lifted the gown. They began poking and prodding me, turning me this way and that.  Hmmm, hmmmm-ing to themselves, and each other, the whole while. Finally one of them said, "Must be the table.”  This whole thing was just weird.  Weird, weird, weird.

“Must be Table Trolls,” I said.  What?  I had to add something, at least my two cents worth. That was a at least a two cent comment.  "We’ll show you what we saw in just a minute.”  Their focus shifted from me to the table.  Everything came off, sheets, pillows, and padding. The top was clean as could be. They slid their hands over the entire surface, pulling out slabs and drawers, flipping switches, getting down on all fours looking underneath, checking the camera, they would have made any CSI team proud! “Well, I don’t see anything. Let’s try another room.”  They took me through the X-ray reading room in transit to another. We stopped in front of the black and white of my abdomen. Sure enough, and don't know how the hell, but it looked like there was an eight to ten inch metal bar of some sort in my lower intestinal tract.

“Uhhh, I didn’t swallow that, that’s not in me. That would have killed me!”

“Then there must be something wrong with the table.”

Now off to room number Two.  They repositioned me, covered the parts that were to be protected, and scuttled off behind the magic window.  I'm laying there, tweaked, torked and holding my breath, when SNAP! Zzzzzzzzzzzzt, fizzle fizzle.

In case you don’t know, X-ray machines are NOT supposed to sound like that. “What the hell was that?” I heard them whispering to each other.  In the meantime, I’m doing a quick mental scan of my life up to now to see if at any time I may have swallowed a metal bar and over looked it. They came out, checked me over, double checked all equipment, then decided that funky sound must have been a fluke and they should try flipping the switch again. Before going behind the protective wall, which is where I wanted to be by now, the new girl patted my shoulder and said, “I’m so sorry about this.”

“Hey, if things were working as planned, it wouldn’t be my life.” (This is truer than you can ever imagine. The previous day was, well, it was humbling through and through - that's another story for another time.)

The two of them hid behind the wall again, I hear, “Ok, hold your breath” . . . . . . . and SNAP!  Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt, fizzle, fizzle again! “Ok, guys can we please not do this again cause that doesn't sound right and it's freaking me out here?” Quiet murmuring from beyond the wall and then new girl reappeared. “OK.  Well, it appears this camera is not firing correctly.” Oh ya think?, “So we’re going to try a new room but my boss is going to check them first and find one that doesn't have Tabel Trolls or misfiring cameras.”

The new girl and I were chatting when her boss reappeared, “Found one, everything works,” So off we trundled to room number Three with good high-hopes and pleasant expectations. After all, third times' the charm - right?  In this case it was.  All things mechanical worked properly and after multiple sincere apologies I was set free, released off into the wild to see what other forms of mishap may befall me.

Next stop was the doctor’s office across from the hospital. My doctor told me when we scheduled the radiology appointment that she wanted to see me right after. And no, an appointment wouldn't be necessary since it would only take a few minutes. She'd just squeeze me in.  

I arrived in the lobby at 9:00 am, told the receptionist I didn’t have an appointment but this was what my doctor wanted. Sure, not a problem, they did this all the time. “Just have a seat and I’ll let your doctor know you’re here.” So I sat and waited. And waited. An hour went by, then another half. Finally two and a half hours had passed – I knew I didn’t have an appointment but this was ridiculous. At the two and a half hour mark I went back to the same receptionist and stood in front of her.  She looked up, “Hi," she says, "can I help you?”

“You already did two and a half hours ago.” Recognition set in, “Oh my God, you’re still waiting?”

“Yep, still waiting.”

“Haven’t seen your doctor yet?”

“Nope, haven’t seen my doctor yet.”

“Well I gave her nurse a note saying you were here and waiting. I’m really sorry, please have a seat and I’ll go see if I can find out what the hold up is.”

“If it’s alright with you, I’ll just stand right over there by the window and watch the construction going on.” Trust me, the construction was far more exciting than anything going on in the lobby. A few long minutes later I heard a whisper, “Pssst, Darcy!” I turned and saw the receptionist motioning for me to join her in her tiny little cubicle. I did an internal eye roll and narrowed my eyes I'm sure – now what? She leaned over her desk and said in a low sincere voice, “I am soooooo sorry, this was all my fault.”

“What’s all your fault?”, eyes still narrowed.   “I thought you were here to see Dr. Wong so that’s who I gave the note to. But you’re not supposed to see Dr. Wong  - you’re supposed to see Dr. WANG! I’m soooooo sorry! We have a Wong AND a Wang in this office!” I closed my eyes and counted to three. OMG, seriously? "I'm new here, I got confused. Please forgive me, I feel so bad!"

“So all this time . . . . . . . . for over two and a half hours, I’ve been waiting to see the WONG doctor?!” Ahhh Ha Ha!

I was still peeved but she didn’t need to know it. I mean, c'mon, how many times have I messed up?

Did it all work out in the end? No. And yes. Dr. Wang wasn’t even expected in for another hour, and ya know, I just didn’t feel like waiting another hour, or coming back. I was promised, by Dr. Wangs nurse, that the good doctor would call me with the X-ray results just as soon as she'd seen them. And yes, she had already taken care of the doctor’s prior-authorization for the new medication she wanted me to take. Yeah!  I should be able to pick up my prescriptions on the way home. That would be awesome since I’d been waiting on this irritating insurance glitch to get ironed out for a week.

An hour later I was at the pharmacy and you’ll never believe (my kids will, they've lived with me), but my insurance STILL wouldn’t cover the medications without some thing, or some such - or a signature from God Himself maybe! However, I was welcome to pay over $300 out of pocket if I liked for the meds. until then.  Really? Really? They’d let me do that? Nawwww. Wasn’t going to happen. So I went home having already fought all the battles I cared to engage in for the day.

The only that worked out in all of this was that the X-rays were just fine (yes the doctor called) and I’ll never go to the “WONG” doctor again!!!!

Sometimes I will skim over the Yahoo story headliners while I'm eating breakfast. I will read what I think may be real news, or interesting material. The rest of the headlines, I just skim. But I always have a private commentary to myself on the nutty headlines. I never read a story whose essence can be captured in one sentence - like the following.

POLITICAL EMAILS GET WEIRDER.
Wait, do I give a 'bleep' about political emails?

HUMAN VS. ROBOT WRITERS.  COULD YOU TELL IF A ROBOT WROTE THIS HEADLINE?
For all I know, robots have been writing headlines for a long time. At least the coherent ones. Only a human could write some of the f*d up ones I've read.

HOW TO MAKE BUTTER TASTE EVEN BETTER.
Seriously? Butter is a perfect flavor!

STICK OR UPRIGHT VACCUMN?
Uh-oh, don’t even want to touch that one.

HEALTH BENEFIT FOR JUSTIN BIEBER HAIRSTYLE. 
Health benefits??? Does anyone really give a flying #&^% about Justin Biebers hair?

IN PARCHED CALIFORNIA, WATERING YOUR LAWN COULD COST YOU.
News flash – I live in California and watering your lawn has ALWAYS cost us. We like things green and growing here. Think a little higher fee will impede us.

POLICE CAN’T STOP DRIVERS FOR CAR COLOR.  “In its ruling, Florida cites Supreme Court decisions stating that police can't pull someone over for behavior not linked to a crime.”
Honestly, is this really a problem?

THREE STYLISH PURSES THAT CHARGE YOUR PHONE.
That's great. But when someone develops purses that will come over to my house and do my dishes, let me know. Then I’ll wait in line for one.

YOU MAY NOT KNOW HOW STRESSED YOU ARE:  ‘HIDDEN STRESS’ SIGNS.
Nope, I know exactly how stressed I am. No stress hidden here!

WANT A BOYFRIEND 50 PLUS?
This isn’t a headline, it’s an ad. But I always want to know “50 plus what”?

5 BIGGEST MISTAKE CAT OWNER’S MAKE.
There's your first mistake right there, just having a cat! (apologies to cat lover's.)

HOMEOWNERS, A NEW CLASS OF FOOLS.
Every class needs a fool or two. Welcome homeowners!

PUPPY COMFORTS OLDER DOG HAVING NIGHTMARE.
Nothing new here people. Comforting is part of Doggy DNA.

We're at odds, Piper and I, over which of the annoying living creatures we are forced to live with deserves mercy and which deserve to be crushed or tossed.  I say, "DOWN WITH THE SNAILS!" She says, "No! Snails can't defend themselves! You should catch and release!"  Catch and release my ass!!  Those little F'ckers are feasting on my plants!  They're killing my babies!!!  I "removed" 13 of the slimy bastards just tonight alone from my porch.  And last night there were 7!! I tossed the little creeps hard across the street into the Critter Control (yes, that's a for real business) lot. Can't bring myself to stomp on them - can't handle the crunch, squirm, and ooze that follows.  The last time I was at the hardware/nursery store two weeks ago, I checked on methods of SNAIL CONTROL.  Of course the most humane option was also the most expensive.  Well, I've had it.  I'm ready to poison the gross, nasty, murderous pests.  Pip can just deal.  This weekend I shall become The Snail Death Squad of One!!!  There are also two plants out there on my porch amongst the living and producing, that are not doing their jobs.  They don't flower anymore. They're wilted and no matter what I've tried, they won't revive. However they show enough green Pip champions their right to life.  I want to toss them.  But now, thanks to Piper, every time I've carried them to the dumpster (which has been no fewer than five times), I hear her voice - "but there's still a little life left, they're fighters, how can you kill a living thing?"  And how can I kill a fighter?  "Viva la Fighters!" is one of our family creeds.  Uuugghhh!!!  Damn.  And I've turned right around and brought them back to the porch and threatened them with tough love - straighten up, or it's adios Muchacho's! They don't respond any better than my children did to my threats!! 

Finally finished the second mixed media practice painting I've been working on. Have to say I'm not pleased with it. Guess that's why I'm still practicing and haven't tackled a "for real" project yet.  This may sound strange, but I'm craving a much larger format to paint on - like a WALL! I need to go large and I need to go fast.  Need to use my whole arm in this action. The practice painting was on 8x11.5 size mixed media paper.   For  couple of hours tonight, I sat with the largest sketch pad I had (good sized one but still not big enough to satisfy my craving for color and movement) and just did small studies in charcoal.  What I learned was I need to learn the posturing on a larger scale before trying to do it small.  I may just have to do the illustrations for my books on a large scale and scan it in sections then put it all together in Photoshop. I know how to do it, that may be easier than dealing with the frustration of such a confined canvas.  Anyway, tomorrow will be another practice day.  Would love to sketch Buntah, but she only poses for the camera - the little HamBone!

There are people who consistently make "the wise decision". Then there are those who KNOW what the wise choice, or action should be, but go right ahead and be a dummy anyway. When you're in that second category, you pay for your stupidity. Usually right away - if not instantly. Rarely do the Gods wait to dish out what's coming to you. They've watched and had a good laugh, now why not the rest of humanity?

The large bandage on my right hand would be clear indicator which of those two groups I fell into yesterday. Did I know I should have walked around the house to the garage to get my leather gloves before I starting digging away at the hard compacted dirt? Yeeees. Did I know that was the SMART thing to do? Yeeees. Did I do that? Nooooooo. Why not? In the infamous words of Bill Cosby, "I dunno!"  Oh alright, maybe I do know - I was being lazy. I can't even say I was being held prisoner by aliens! I was just plain lazy and therefore self-talked my way out of having to be smart.

The result? A giant blister - now popped of course - the size of a nickel in the palm of my right hand. The worst part was, since I had this open wound, Tad and I weren't able to play in the mud like we wanted. That's what breaking up the dirt and getting rid of sharp rocks was all about. We were preparing our mud pit for hours of highly anticipated good 'ol muddy fun. It ended with me on the couch (hey he put me there!), leaning against a pile of soft pillows and covered with Tad's biggest bestest cuddly furry blanket. It was 85 degrees in the house. Penance for ignorance. He also cleaned me up and tended to my wound. His inner, very tender, Florence Nightingale came out and took control. I mean TOOK CONTROL! "This was a really bad owie, now you have to rest".

He cleaned me up, bandaged me excessively and marched me to the couch where he finished his ministrations. He made a giant pile of pillows on the couch using every single pillow in the living room. Ordered me to lay down, took off down the hall and returned with the Mother of all comfortable blankies - took both his hands and all his strength to drag it down the hall. He was so cute I couldn't not comply. After he got me cozy he went off to the kitchen to "do chores". "Do chores," I asked him? "Well yeah, that's what you do when someone gets hurt bad. You take care of them, make 'em rest, then you go do chores." And darned if that little rascal didn't pull up his stairs to the kitchen sink and wash the rest of the dirty dishes!  There weren't many to begin with so he was back at my feet in quick time, dripping wet and cute as hell.

I asked him if I could get up now. He looked at me for a beat then said, "Ya know, next time we dig, you should put your gloves on cuz now we can't play in the mud." Oh God, could I feel any smaller? Nope, not really. I was sufficiently reprimanded by a three year old. A three year old I have a lot of respect for. Enough that from now on, I will be on the wise side of the line. At least when I'm with him. That's the way it is with the good folks I guess. Being around them makes us want to do better. Perhaps that's why kids come as kids first  - and not adults!  

Took the Bullet Train up to UCSF (University of California San Fransisco) early yesterday morning, had another dental appointment. We were finished by noon. Normally, after an appointment, I get back on the Muni, ride it back to the train station, then get back on a train for home.  But that's not what I did.  I'd noticed before, that this particular line, if I continue on it, it goes all the way to the beach. Often I've wondered how much longer it would take to get there and how long I could stay and still make the last train back for home. So far my deeply rooted mothering inclinations have pulled me from my personal desire and got me back on a train for home like any good Mom would do. Not this time. For some reason, maybe it was the near proximity of Mother's Day and my ever evolving attitudes toward that day, or maybe it was just plain wanting to do whatever the hell I wanted to do without being responsible for someone else for a change, most likely it was a combination of the two - but regardless the reason,  I said to myself, "I'm going to the ocean! I'm going to ride this train to the end of the line and go back home whenever I darm well feel like it!" I was unprepared mind you. Not in beach appropriate clothes, no towels to sit on or dry off with, no bags for shells and barely any left over snacks from earlier in the day. I looked down at the two one dollar bills in my hand and knew that, in this case, money COULD buy happiness.  The doors slid open, I stepped up, paid my fare and sat down with a smile. I texted Piper, who always wants to know when to expect me, and told her I was going to the beach instead of coming right back.  "Your on your own for dinner and I have no idea at this point what time I'll be back. Will let you know when I board final train for home." And that was that. I turned my phone off and enjoyed the amazing architecture so abundant in San Fransisco.

Up to this point, it had been sprinkling with a "rolling mist" San Fransisco style. The rain had ceased, but it was still very cloudy, grey and windy. Not a problem. As soon as I saw the rising dune speckled with beach grass, my heart raced into high gear. The doors opened, I stepped off and instantly could feel and smell the ocean in the air. I climbed the first dune, and ahhhhhhh, there it was, vast and never ending edge to edge. The waves thundered, the wind whipped my long hair and carried the ocean spray inland to share with me. It was perfect. Utterly perfect. The weather had scared all but one or two lone die-hards and seabirds off, AND it was low tide!! Oh yeah, the perfect time for finding shells and if you're really lucky, whole sand dollars. The beach was wide, not dropping off into deep waters for a long way out, and was beautifully speckled with bits of shells and broken sand dollars. Before I knew it, my good jeans were wet nearly to my knees, my boots covered in sand, and my hair whipped like it had been caught in a hand mixer. I walked the wet sand, the dry sand, and bent and knelt in search of ocean treasure. For hours, I walked and searched, stopping from time to time just to listen and watch the waves. Several times I had to sit or kneel in the wet sand to find more room for more shells or sand dollars. By the time I'd walked myself sore, both deep jacket pockets were full to over flowing with wet sandy treasures and were literally dripping wet! All my jeans pockets were full, two outside pouches on my backpack, three sandwich bags and two double sandwich deep Rubbermaid containers were full of such a haul! My face and my heart smiled the whole time. I could feel the salty sting on my cheeks and sand on my lips. I was soooo happy - and such a sight I'm sure. More than four hours had passed before I gave any thought to checking time. And you know what? I stayed until "I" felt like going. It was perfect. When I finally got home after dark, I had the perfect dinner; tortilla chips smothered in cheese, microwaved to the melt, then topped with salsa. Followed that with a banana split with whip cream. Added bonus, the happy glow lasted long into today.

Never knew i could feel like such a GROWN-UP at last, and a kid at the same time! 

It's the night before Easter and I'm sitting in my bedroom doing penance for being a SLACKER in more ways than one. We're not doing Easter tomorrow, not in any semblance to our traditional sense. Things have changed.  There are no small children to do candy and eggs for, and my grown live-in daughter Piper and I do not share a religious connection. Meaning she has not yet acquired an appreciation for the TRUE meaning of Easter.  We'll be sharing an interest in "Game of Thrones", but no Jesus acknowledgement for her.  No decorations, not even a new flowering plant for our patio. No baskets, no jelly beans.  Hmmmmm . . . . . . . . . just doesn't feel right somehow. Will have to put more pre-thought into future Easter celebrations, come up with some new types of traditions I guess.

I got back from my trip on the first of April and took a whole week, plus some, to get all my parts and mental pieces back together. Heck I slept for fourteen hours each of the first two days I was back. Nine days of go, go, GO with little kids and big kids, it was crazy! I didn't spend more than one night in a single place. We played "Rotate The Grandma", and did projects, and had date nights with each grand daughter. And at each house, after the small ones were in bed, I stayed up late - VERY LATE - talking and talking with my grown up child belonging to that residence. Not one single night with more than four hours of sleep! Next trip must be longer, I returned feeling like I'd been in a blender!  Happy but thoroughly MASHED! I got one on one time with the little ones, which I desperately wanted, and then the day before I left, we dropped the wee ones of at prospective day cares or the other grammy's house and just the big kids and I had a date. Awesome, awesome, awesome!!! We had breakfast out together, fixed lunch at my sons, drove around looking for a used bookstore and laughed until our faces ached! We finally ended up driving to the next big town south for a bookstore, then after stopped at a grocery store and bought a big roll of chocolate chip cookie dough - which we ate raw in the car.  All of it, the whole precious trip was more than I could have hoped for. Took some pics, but have to wait until Monday to get them off my phone. 

I miss those people in my daily life, my heart aches for some of the choices I'm forced to make. You may not understand, but this is a situation of having to chose between family and being basically sound and structurally happy. I have enough years and intelligence to know I can't hope that my happiness will come from other people.  I love my children and miss them so much it hurts. I love my grand daughters to death, but I've lived where they live (for five and a half years at an earlier time) and I can't live that far north in the hemisphere. The lack of sunshine during the winter months plunges me into a deep and frightening depression.  My ex-husband lives there and he is toxic ooze to my soul - takes me weeks when I return to wash him clean from within. Avoid him? Sure wish I could - and I try - but he has a way of forcing his existence upon us even when I visit. Emotionally it wouldn't be healthy for me to live there.

Before I left, I took an another part-time nanny gig. I can't stay with this family. Extreme differences of lifestyle, cleanliness and parenting techniques (or lack thereof) make it unbearable for me. I've been working, then in my off times, working even harder to find something else. I'm exhausted from the effort and oh so anxious to get back to my writing and illustrations. Need to be back in my creative flow, feel like I'm starving. Need to take a day and go to the beach! Constant rolling, thunderous waves, warm gritty sand between my toes and clinging to my skin, getting cold and wet and rocked by nature and not giving a damn. Sooooo need that earth re-connection if you know what I mean. 

Oh and today is Buntah's anniversary of her happy acceptance into our family!!!  HAPPY BIRTHDAY BUNTAH!!

Nearly a month?! Wow. Guess time flies no matter what you're doing. The project I spoke of earlier is coming along, slowly but on the move. Now I'm beginning to think I bit off more than I could chew within my time frame. I am the Master of coming up with great ideas just a little too late. My "project, my labor of love" is making a shield for each of my children and their children. A large 9x9 tile really, to be hung on the wall in their personal space as guardian, protector and inspiration. Each tile will be unique to that person. Having multiple aspects, flowers, trees and animals depicting that persons persona, and or my wishes for them. Native American peoples have had this custom since their beginnings. A person never makes their own shield. A friend or brother makes the shield thereby guaranteeing a more honest view of the person being honored - this by-passes ego. I think it's a beautiful concept, so why not a mother make shields for her children? I've spent the last two weeks researching animal totems, tree and flower meanings and even name meanings. It took three days to create the tiles by hand. And has taken nearly two weeks of careful design planning. There will be a total of ten. All of the tiles, but two, are drawn out now but only two are totally complete.  The others are missing at least one element, others two or three. I need to get them painted and fast. I leave in ten days.  In my minds eye, they look awesome. Making the awesome a reality is another matter. IF, they are half-way respectable, I will post images as I get them completed.  However, now I have another draw on my time. I start a new part-time job tomorrow.

The hours will be odd for my natural body clock. I'm going to have to change up my routines a LOT to pull this off. And then in ten days - I will be gone for ten days. I have a trip to prepare for as well. Not just any trip either. This warm sun, bright colors loving girl is heading to the upper east coast where the wind chill factor today was a minus 10!! I have no REAL winter clothes so shopping is in order. Shopping when all the spring/summer clothes are out, and clothes shopping is way up there  on my list of things I hate to do. Right next to go to the dentist. This will be a crazy busy week I can tell.

I so love where I live!! It was 77 degrees yesterday. My flowers are happy, I am happy! Starting on a new painting project soon. The last week of March I'll be traveling with my son and his two daughters back east. I only get to stay a week this time, but for the first time ever, all of my grand daughters will be in the same place at the same time!!! Grammy can't show up empty handed so I'm making them each a special gift. While I'm there, we will plant flowers in pots indoors, to be transplanted outside once the ground thaws and is ready for flowers. Can't wait!!!