On Being Trespassed Against

I am a very forgiving person. It's nearly impossible for me to hold a grudge. Nearly. But not entirely. To do so requires that the transgressor hurt me very much, probably repeatedly.

And she has.

Superman and I attended a meeting last Friday concerning Diva, who is almost finished with her term of probation. We met with a few service providers to revise her mental healthcare treatment plan. Besides us, the attendees included the local representative from the state department overseeing the care of emotionally disturbed children, Diva's counselor from the department of mental health, her Department of Juvenile Justice (DJJ) probation "counselor"*, and the young woman who provides rehabilitative psycho-social services. To review: Me, Superman, that woman, that woman, the young woman, and the other lady. To give you perspective, we are older than all these other women. Our children, including the one who was the subject of the meeting, are older than the children of these other women. One of the ladies doesn't have children. They are all trained and educated about children, though, so doesn't that make us feel better. (No)

I'll cut to the ridiculous part. To boost Diva's confidence, it was decided around us that we should surprise Diva with a celebration for not breaking the law for these past months since October when she was released from the DJJ evaluation center. That nice woman is bringing a cake. We'll provide the ice cream. This will happen on Tuesday afternoon. The probation counselor will bring the paperwork officially ending Diva's probation. Only her counselor will not be able to attend, but all the other ladies will be there. Honestly, I'm not feeling it.

To her credit, Diva controls some of her impulses better than she did before. She hasn't struck out violently since she assaulted me in September. She'll cuss like a sailor with the slightest provocation, but she hasn't hit anyone as far as I am aware. She can't disagree with us without screaming in our faces. That gets really tiring very quickly.

Friday was the end of a very difficult week for us. On Tuesday Diva and I got into an argument about her having a cell phone. (We told her she couldn't, she bought a cheapo one anyway). I tried and failed to cook hamburgers, resulting in a visit from the nice local firemen. No flames, just a lot of smoke and a security system that alerts the powers-that-be to said smoke. Thursday I got insanely mad at Sproing for ruining my chance to go out for the evening with my lovely husband. By Friday I was convinced I couldn't parent these maniacs anymore. Cut to the meeting where well-meaning but clueless young women tell us how to parent these maniacs.

I cried. I railed. I told all of them that we just can't handle it anymore. Well, shit, they don't want to handle these little fuckers any more than we do. Their collective goal is to keep this wonderful family together. Shit. They said Very Encouraging Things. They said that much of what our 14 year olds do is fairly typical; the rebellion, the snitty attitudes, the backtalk, the lack of respect. Humph. I've already raised two children to adulthood, and neither of them had behavior this intense. Though at a very rough spot in my life when Twitch was 14 or 15 one of his tantrums pushed me over the edge (I was damned close already) and I spent a few days in the psych ward at the hospital. I am much better medicated now. Nevertheless, Twitch at his worst was nothing like this. (Light at her worst was hardly a bump in the road, but that's Light.)

Back to the point: Young Women said Diva and Sproing's behavior isn't atypical. Then one of them said "though most parents haven't dealt with this intensity for 7 years." Bingo! Diva committed her first felony at the tender age of 9. Sproing was a holy terror for his 2nd grade teacher, and I was at school more often than not. And his behavior at school wasn't much different from what we experienced at home. It's been the same shit, different day, for years and years and years.

I don't think about all of that very often. I can't if I want to survive today.

Remember that part about Diva assaulting me? When she punched me repeatedly in the chest and back, leaving bruises? And hasn't apologized for it? And doesn't show a scrap of remorse for anything? Yeah. That was the straw that broke my back. It was a big straw, yet the pile was huge before she laid that one on. She has never shown remorse for anything, for years and years, except getting caught and punished. She ain't right.

I am not the kind of person who keeps score of offenses against me. As I said at the beginning, I am a very forgiving person. But at some point my well of forgiveness runs out. I have taken into account that she is a child. That she is my child. I used to love her. I still do, after a fashion. I care about what happens to her, where she goes, what influences she is subjected to. I don't want her to be in danger. I want her to have the things that she needs. But I don't think I can provide that care for her. She is slowly killing my spirit.

It's too much. I've been told (by experts, no less**) that I need to move beyond her past behaviors, to forgive her. To wipe the slate clean and start anew. No. I have been hurt too deeply. I cannot open myself, make myself vulnerable to her in the way that I "should" as a parent. Love requires a certain vulnerability. Parenting requires patience and a "long view" perspective. Since she was 4 years old Diva has been consistently odd, and not in a good way. She has NEVER... N E V E R exhibited remorse. Almost never does she accept any kind of punishment, because she is not wrong. Rules don't apply to her, therefore consequences shouldn't apply either. So the "long view" from age 4 to 14 shows disturbing consistency. Perhaps in another 10 years she'll have matured into an emotionally healthy young woman, but I can't see that happening. I know other children (besides my own) who are now adults. Certain personality traits are consistent throughout their lives. The things I am trying to describe about Diva are the things that don't change significantly.

I feel as though I need to scream from the rooftops so that someone, anyone will hear me and understand. I. Can't. Do. This. Any. More. All of these well trained service providers just don't get it. Nothing I've said seems to have made a difference to them. They see segments of her behavior and think "that's not so bad." Maybe not, but it is for me. Or it's been going on long enough to have broken me. Perhaps I'm just not strong enough. Not good enough. Whatever. I don't care. Take her away. I can no longer stand the pain she brings. I can't turn off my give-a-shit so that she doesn't hurt me anymore. I'm too good a parent for that. And that renders me unqualified to parent her.

*Newspeak: DJJ doesn't have probation officers, they have probation counselors. Doesn't that make us all feel better? (No)

** Some of these experts are even older and more experience than I, though not experienced at living with Diva. 'Nuf said.

Beginning with a quote

In everyone's life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit. -Albert Schweitzer, philosopher, physician, musician, Nobel laureate (1875-1965) 
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So let's wrap up the camping trip. We planned to stay Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday nights. I posted about the trip last Tuesday. Tuesday evening it got uncomfortably cold and quite windy. Tuesday night in the tent was too cold, so we packed up Wednesday and came home. I read a book most of the afternoon Tuesday and into the evening as well. By the time I finished the book it was late and too cold and windy to stoke up the grill for hamburgers, so we went into Hendersonville to BK for a snack. 


Wednesday morning we did the breakfast thing. I taught Sproing how to make scrambled eggs. The way I do it when camping is to put the eggs and anything else I want to add into a quart size zip closure plastic bag. I seal the bag, then squish everything together through the bag. That's lots o' fun! I put the bag into boiling water, taking care not to let the plastic drape over the side of the pot, because the heat from the camp stove (or fire, if applicable) melts the bag. Yep, learned that the hard way. The eggs cook in the bag and comes out all fluffy and omelette-y. Take care that the eggs cook completely. It takes a while for the center of the stuff to cook. Personally, I like to wrap the scrambled egg into a flour tortilla shell for a breakfast burrito. Sproing likes his on a plate. 


We cleaned up after breakfast and began to break camp. That sounds so violent! We took down the tent, put stuff in boxes and whatnot, laid a tarp in the truck bed, and filled it up with all our stuff. Sproing tried to help me secure the tie-downs over the load, but got a bit of grit in his eye. Did I mention the wind was still strong? It was painful, and I didn't appreciate the gravity of the situation as much as he thought I should. We fussed at each other. He got in the truck and eventually napped on the way home. His eye and his attitude were much better when he woke up. 


The week before our camping trip the weather here in Greenwood was unseasonably warm. I was eager to get to the cooler temps of the mountains. Unfortunately for us, the temperature adjusted to seasonably appropriate in the entire Southeast, so it was too cool in the mountains and very comfortable here in the Piedmont. Perhaps when the kids are out for summer break we can try the camp thing again and get some relief from the heat without freezing our collective asses off. 
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To continue our weather discussion, this week is once again warmer here in Greenwood. It isn't too terribly bad, just in the high 70s, mid 80s (approx. 25-30C). The people who do these things are predicting rain later today and on for the next couple of days, and indeed the humidity is creeping up into the uncomfortable range. I bring this up specifically because our air conditioner isn't working. Again. This doesn't surprise me, necessarily. It's an older system and has caused us problems in the past. Irritates me, though. We've discussed here how I don't handle the heat well. 
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My darling Light was in state this past weekend!! She came down to attend the wedding of a school chum of hers. I was her "plus 1" for the wedding, as her girlfriend wasn't able to attend. It was a lovely event, held at a beautiful event location place in Asheville with lovely mountain views. The weather was perfect. The wedding was small and comfortable. The brother of the bride is a friend of mine from school, an art major at my most recent alma mater. He graduates next week himself. He's also cute, and funny, and he's my pretend boyfriend (one of many), though I don't think he knows it. The bride was beautiful, the groom looked shifty. I liked his best man, though. 


Oh, but the point is that Light was here! She stayed with her girlfriend in Spartanburg. The family went to visit her on Sunday, had a wonderful time. She drove back up to Pennsylvania yesterday, arriving shortly after midnight according to the text she sent me. I haven't heard from her yet today. Hope she's resting. Her car was giving her a bit of trouble. Most immediately he needs new brakes: pads and rotors and a fluid change. She got the oil changed and went back home with her fingers crossed. Her Daddy is going to send her some money to help with the car repair expenses. Her Daddy is a Super Man, imho. 
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Let's discuss today's quote. To review: In everyone's life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit. -Albert Schweitzer, philosopher, physician, musician, Nobel laureate (1875-1965) 
My "inner flame" has a tendency to flicker out sometimes. I am an introvert, I keep to myself a lot. In doing so, I focus on the negative and lose touch with the more vibrant aspects of my personality. I don't like people, and want them to leave me alone. However, there are persons who inspire me to do my best, who "rekindle the inner spirit" as Dr. Schweitzer says. You know that line in "Men In Black" where K says "A person is smart. People are dumb, panicky dangerous animals and you know it." It's those "people" I don't like. I do like many individual persons, but tend to keep myself secluded and end up avoiding the ones who will do me good. This quote reminds me to reach out, make contact with the world, find people who are good for me. 


That is all. 

Forgetting to Remember

To: me
From: Superman
Subject: Happy Anniversary
7:12 AM
You just looked so cute lying there asleep, I couldn't bear to wake you.

After my deal at the orthopedist, I'll drop by the house.

Love you bunches!

Da Hubsband

And he brought me three red roses, one for each decade. Isn't he the sweetest guy? We've been married 29 years now. It just gets better. 

And I had forgotten our anniversary completely. Totally. Didn't have a clue. I remembered 29-A last month, the anniversary of our official legal wedding. Today is 29-B, the anniversary of the day we had the "pretty" church wedding that my mother wanted. 

He took me out to lunch today, too. We went to our default restaurant, the locally owned pizza place that does brick oven pizza and specialty beers. Good stuff! 

Oh, and his deal at the orthopedist was getting a cortisone shot in his shoulder, the one he did not have surgery on to repair his rotator cuff six years ago. And he does not need surgery on this shoulder, thankfully. He's got some inflammation in the ligaments, that's all. In case you wondered. 

I need to write a follow-up to the camping adventure. That will come soon. Really. 

 

Vacation, or something like it

Guess what? I'm on an impromptu vacation of sorts. The kidlets are out of school on spring break this week, and I wanted to do something to keep them occupied. I also wanted to go camping. 1+1= camping! It's only Sproing and me. This sort of thing is so not Diva. She made a disgusted face when I suggested it. So I said, "Fine, you don't have go." Which means she's at home by herself during the day, which is not an ideal situation. But she isn't with us, either, and that is ideal. Her stinking attitude would ruin this trip for me and Sproing.

According to Superman, who has to work this week, Diva is thrilled to be Sproing-free. Sproing is just as thrilled to be Diva-free. Sproing and I get along pretty well when it's just the two of us. He brought his bike and is having fun riding all over the campground.

We arrived yesterday (Monday). The only way I knew today was Tuesday was taking my meds from the week-long pill organizer I use. "It's time for my morning meds. Wait, it's Tuesday?"

We're in the mountains, of course. Heck, is there any other place worth camping? (Rhetorical question. My answer: no.) It's a bit cool yet, not hot enough back home to need an escape from the heat. But this is an escape from Diva and home, so it works. We got here yesterday afternoon, set up the tent. It's an "instant tent" or whatever they call it. Sets up in about 3 minutes. All the poles are permanently attached and unfold from the center hub, sort of like a 4-legged spider. I've wanted one of these babies for a couple of years. Our old tent was worn out so we got to get this new one.

I'm sleeping on an air mattress. It's pretty comfortable except for the part where I have to fight from falling off the side. Our site isn't quite as level as it looked when I was vertical. Think I'll rearrange the orientation of the mattress tonight so that my feet are downhill, my head uphill. Sproing is in a sleeping bag on the floor (on insulated pads) and he rolled up against the side of the tent during the night.

The weather is beautiful. It's a bit cool at night. I really didn't want to get out from under my covers this morning. I might sleep in my clothes tonight so I don't have to get dressed in the cold tomorrow. It was only about 47 F (8 C) when we woke up this morning, which isn't too bad except when you're sleeping in it. The sun is out now (early afternoon) and it's warming up nicely. Comfortably cool in the shade, not too warm in the sun.

Our camp site is right beside the creek. It's beautiful!

 Sproing is having a blast jumping from rock to rock. Makes me a bit nervous, but he just says "Aw, Mom!" and does it fine anyway. Mostly. He hasn't broken a leg or fallen completely into the creek. He's splashed water on his ass and stumbled in the water a little. I walked on the rocks and waded in the water a little bit yesterday. It was warm, I got hot with all the camp set-up, and my feet were hot. The water felt so good! Then it felt so cold! 

This morning we went into Asheville to get a few supplies. We're maybe 15 miles east/southeast of Asheville here, perhaps a bit closer to Hendersonville. We came through Hendersonville, so decided to go up to Asheville today. Found a Wal-Mart, got some frozen burgers (because the ones I bought in preparation for the trip were inadvertently left in the freezer at home) and a small coffee maker. More about that in a minute. This is what we saw in the parking lot at the W-M.

I was so excited! I parked about this close to it, much to Sproing's dismay. Silly boy. I love this VW camper! It's the Westfalia, probably mid '70s model. My grandparents had one similar, but an earlier model when the front looked more like the old hippie vans, though their pop-up looked like this one. (Google image search of VW Westfalia presents a lovely array.)

Of course I brought coffee on this trip. My name is Java, after all. We used to have a little 4 cup coffee maker that we'd bring on trips, but it wandered off somewhere, somehow, sometime in the past couple of years. So I brought filters and a small sieve so I could pour boiling water through the coffee in a low tech drip manner. Tried that this morning. Didn't work so well. By the time all the coffee had dripped through the filter and strainer, it was cold. And too much solid stuff came through. My coffee was kinda muddy, and tepid. Very disappointing. It was necessary that I get another small coffee maker. I'm ready for tomorrow morning now! Might even have some coffee later this evening, just for fun.

The shopping list for our W-M run was two items: frozen hamburgers and a small coffee maker. As we went into the store Sproing said "Remember Mom, we're here for only TWO items!" We went through the freezer gauntlet and he spotted the Ben & Jerry's display. Oooo! he says. I like this one, he says. I said "We're here for only TWO items!" but of course he talked me into getting some ice cream. It was difficult. He had to twist my arm hard. Or maybe he just had to grin at me. Whatever. We had ice cream for lunch. Gotta love it!

He's bored and tired now. His allergies are bothering him a bit, and he just told me he wants to leave tomorrow. We'd planned to stay until Thursday. Don't know what we'll end up doing. I'd like to stay until Thursday.

It's nap time for me now. As soon as I finish this I want to crawl into my bed and snooze with the sound of the rushing creek for background music. (We're very close to the creek. It's a bit louder than I'd like, but I'm not complaining.) Sproing wants to drive up this really cool gravel road that we made a wrong turn onto yesterday. Love that road! Narrow, very winding, gravel, steep, with beautiful views of the mountains and valley below. Perhaps we'll go on a short drive, take some more pictures, then come back for my nap. Poor ol' Sproing doesn't nap. Superman doesn't either. I love naps. Sproing could use a nap right about now.

My Dreams

(The day dream type, not those weird exercises of my sleeping brain.)

This is the sort of house I'd like to have/build/live in. Particularly the cob construction.


I was fantasizing last week before the megamillion$ lottery drawing about what I'd do with those bazillion dollars. I don't want a big elaborate house. I want something cozy and earthy. The combination of mud and stone delights me. Regarding the megamillions, we did not win the jackpot. Neither did we buy a ticket. Sometimes one just likes to wonder.

An Explanation: The previous post was, as its title suggests, a sample post. I was telling somebody about my blog and she didn't understand exactly what a blog is, so I whipped up that little example and posted it.

I have been reading Butch is a Noun by S. Bear Bergman. It's a collection of essays about hir queer transgender experience. I've had the book for a couple of years but am only now reading it. These readings bring up unsettling questions about my own gender identity. Here's where we are currently, for those keeping score: I am a woman with a few feminine gender expressions and more than typical masculine gender traits. I am emotionally/psychologically uncomfortable with the idea of being feminine, and consequently more comfortable with my personal idea of masculinity. I don't want to be a man, necessarily, but I don't want to be much of a woman, either. My femininity embarrasses me. When I try to discuss this with Superman he becomes very uncomfortable. He is very secure in his masculinity, much more so than I am. He is secure in my femininity, again much more so than I am. It all gets very confusing. Until we're in bed together. Then the masculine/feminine thing expresses itself with body parts and that works very well.*

Speaking of Superman, he poisoned himself Sunday afternoon. Ya' know, for as smart as he is, he does some mighty dumb things sometimes. He has been working on the kitchen (praise be) to good effect, and Sunday was painting polyurethane on a bunch of surfaces. Without opening the kitchen window, or wearing one of those ventilator thingies, or even turning on a fan in the room. When I got home from taking Twitch back to school (Twitch was home last week on spring break), Superman complained of dizziness. When I walked in the house the stench of polyurethane overwhelmed me. I opened the windows and turned on the attic fan to pull the poison out of the house. He sat beside an open window for a couple of hours but was still fuzzy-headed. Then Monday morning he got up and fell down. He came back to bed and slept for a little while longer (he was dizzy and tired) then had me take him to work. The man was at least smart enough to not drive in that condition. At my "suggestion" he went to the nurse's office. After hearing his explanation she gave him "that look" and asked why he was even at work. She then made him call our family physician to make an appointment. He worked for a couple of hours, then called me to pick him up. He was very dizzy, somewhat nauseous, and kept breaking out in a sweat.

I took him to his afternoon doctor's appointment, and the doc confirmed that he'd inhaled too much solvent from the polyurethane. The symptoms are typical. Said he'd probably feel better in a day or two or three. This morning (Tuesday) he was still pretty dizzy, but not so nauseous. He keeps having those sweaty hot flashes, though. That part amuses me, seeing as how in my state of peri-menopause I'm having regular hot flashes myself. I don't usually break into a sweat though. Poor Superman. He's such a silly thing. Anyway, he was home this morning but I took him to work early this afternoon. It's 5:00 now and I haven't heard anything from him, so I assume he's OK.

Wow, time flies when you're living your life. It's now 2:30 a.m. Wednesday. I should be asleep. When I'm supposed to get up in 4.5 hours I will wish I had been asleep now. Oy.

Superman was feeling a lot better this evening, so much so that he went downtown to one of the local bars to play trivia and drink beer with C and the gang of young men and a woman. He had a marvelous time. I stayed home with the children because they can't be left alone after dark. But I went out Monday night and Superman stayed home, so it all evens out. One of these days we'll go together for an evening out.

I'm working on another post that will update you on the local gay drama. Expect that soon. I'm not going to define "soon" though. You know me.

*(she says with a big grin on her face)

This is an example

This is what a blog post looks like.

And look! You can add pictures!

I found this picture last night. I immediately thought of Light. She loves to lie in bed and read. Well, actually, so do I.

Hair, mostly

I got a haircut today. As I have noted previously, haircuts freak me out a little bit. It seems such an intimate, personal activity, not one I want to share with just anybody. Unfortunately I don't know any beauticians/barbers well enough to entrust my hair to. (bad sentence!)

This song keeps popping in my head when I sleep. It's been the song in my head when I wake up recently. I don't know why.



So I went to the beauty college this morning to get my hair cut. It's cheap but takes a long time. I told the gal I want it short. Yes, short. No, shorter than that. Cut all that part off. I explain it's been a long time since my last haircut, it's grown out a lot longer than I want it. But these sissy bitches don't take me seriously when I say short. I sat in the chair while the instructor, the student assigned to my head, and one or two other students with more experience chopped on my hair for a while.

The chatter was about children. I'm not in a good place regarding children these days. They's all crazy. Babies are OK as long as they're someone else's babies and I don't spend too terribly much time with them. Babies and toddlers are cute. Anything approaching teenage is terrifying. These ladies in the beauty chop had misbehaving children on their minds. I hate it. My kids are crazy bad. Maybe it's my fault they're so bad, maybe I take them too seriously. Maybe I don't take them seriously enough. Comparing my kids to those of others is depressing. Hell, just bringing up the topic of my kids is depressing.

Eventually I accepted my gal Brenda's work on my head. Yes, that's good. Thanks so much. I left a small tip. I came home. Kept running my fingers through my hair. Looked in the bathroom mirror. The top of my head looked square. It parts on the left, and the hair on the right side of my head was bumped up, squaring the form of my head. It needed to be shorter there. Hell, it needed to be shorter in lots of places.

Yes, I did.

I scooted a few things out of the way, then put a towel-sized piece of fabric (towels have too much nap and catch and hold loose hairs) over the sink and counter in my bathroom. I got my small sharp sewing scissors and started cutting. Clip-clip here, grab a chunk and snip away at it there. This seems longer than the other side. No, wait, I thought she shortened that bit more. It needs trimming. More snip-snip, clip-clip. Covered all over with short hairs. I hate that part. Itched like crazy. Finally figured I'd better stop clipping before it got too ugly.

I shook out the hair-covered fabric off the back patio, then took of my shirt and shook it out, too. I dazzled the neighbors' back yards with my fat body in nothing but my undergarments for a minute there. Don't think anyone saw me, don't care if they did. I came back in for another shower and shampoo. The head didn't look too terrible when wet, and now that it's dry it looks, well, not too terrible I think. Maybe. But I can't see it well.

Superman came home for lunch. He noticed my haircut, but didn't notice that I cut it myself. That's a good sign, but not proof that it isn't butchered. Diva's case worker says it doesn't look too bad, and I trust her opinion about hair more than I trust Superman's.

Diva got her hair did last weekend. She's all kinds of proud of it now, and wanted me to take her picture and post it here for all to admire. So here she is.

My doctor sent me to a physical therapist for my back. I've never done PT before. Had my first appointment this afternoon. It was relatively painless, but took a long time. The feller says we're going to work on strengthening my back muscles and stretching (gently) to increase range of motion. I have simple exercises to do throughout the day. Twenty seconds at a time every hour or two. I can handle that, methinks. I see the physical therapist tomorrow morning at 8 a.m. and Friday at 9 a.m.

My kids are home from school now and are irritating me. Sproing is springing and clapping loudly and yelling and arguing. Diva is quiet, but Sproing is arguing about her. He's been mouthing off to her and her social worker. "I'm just kidding." No, son, that behavior is disrespectful and annoying. But he won't hear me. He's too busy yelling at me to listen, and blames everything on others.

I'll write more about my crazy in another post. I felt very very crazy when I started writing at noon, but now I'm too distracted, too numbed by over-stimulation. And I wanted to try to write about it. I need to figure WTF it's about.

hand dancing

Have you seen this?



It has 8.4 million views on YouTube, so chances are pretty good that you may have seen it. I saw it this evening for the first time and just had to share it.

I have found a new blog in which to get lost. if it's hip, it's here. Art and design and weird and interesting stuff. And I've been clicking hip links since early this afternoon (with a mid afternoon break for errands and other important things). Found the above video on one of her posts. I'm in design-geek heaven!

Spring with a Bang

 We have an ornamental pear tree in our yard. We used to have two, but the really nice big one in front of the house died a couple of years ago. The one that's left is much smaller, and closer to the neighbor's yard on the small side of the driveway. Until this morning it was bare. Naked. In winter shut-down mode. Even more bare than the neighbor's tree is now, as you see on the right.

Her tree is also small, and on the small side of her driveway. They look pretty nice together, actually.

This morning Superman went outside to do whatever it is he does on Saturday mornings and Ta-Da! The tree was in full bloom! Just like that. One day bare, the next day full of flowers. There's our tree to the left. And that's the next door neighbor's house. It looks very nice, much nicer than ours. Which is why I framed the shot to show her house.

 Below is a shot of the two trees beside each other. 

It isn't good photography. The light was bad today. (Bad light! Go stand in the corner!)

It's been wet. The big bad storm that's been making its way across the south finally got here overnight. There was a very big, very loud, very close bolt of lightening that struck at about 2:30 this morning, waking everyone in the house. My very unscientific theory is that the big bolt shocked the pear tree into blooming. Put the fear o' Thor in it, perhaps.

In other news, my back still hurts. Still in the tenderloin district. It's been, what, three weeks or more since it started bothering me. I have an appointment Monday afternoon to get the doctor to reevaluate things. The "duuu-u-u-u-u-d-e" drugs, I'm still taking them, but they no longer "dude" me out. Make me a bit sleepy sometimes, and I have a bit more trouble concentrating sometimes, but I feel pretty normal-ish when taking them. And they do help the back a lot, but not completely. I just took a dose about an hour ago and now I'm getting kinda vacuous.

I read a very good book last night. Do you know how I read books? Especially novels and such; fiction. Non-fiction doesn't have quite the hold on me. I start a good book and don't find a good stopping place. Hell, a lot of times even the end of the story isn't a good stopping place, you know? So I read until close to 5:00 this morning. In doing so I also monitored the storm. The tornado sirens went off at 4:15, though I doubt many people besides me heard them.

But I was telling you about this book. Or I told you I read a book. Changing Tides by Michael Thomas Ford. If it had been illustrated, this is what the pictures would be:

These are nudibranches, also known as sea slugs. One of the main characters was a marine biologist who's specialty was these guys. Nudibranches were not integral to the plot, really, but the author wrote fascinating descriptions of them. I wish there had been pictures in the book, but at least we have Google, you know? Google image search "nudibranch" and ta-da all over again. Pages and pages of colorful fellers like these.

The point I'm pretending to make is that the book was very good and I recommend it. There is a bit of M/M intimacy in the story, tastefully written and not gratuitous.

I have some deep thoughts concerning the subject of my previous post, in which I shared the Roderick Thorp quote: "We have to learn to be our own best friends because we fall too easily into the trap of being our own worst enemies."

But I haven't sufficiently processed the thoughts for comment here. Right now the "dude" drugs have my brain too sleepy and fuzzy to make sense of much. And this post already has enough stuff in it. 

Quote for today

"We have to learn to be our own best friends because we fall too easily into the trap of being our own worst enemies."
-- Roderick Thorp


Because heaven knows I play the role of my own enemy often enough.