Can We Find Life in Death

Posted on Monday, 11 September, 2006 by Rosa

I believe we are all born of a cosmic energy which remains forever.
I know with my heart and soul that Death is better than pain and suffering.
It is the ultimate healing as we move to another dimension.

Why is it so very hard to let go? Grief is only for the living. Necessary for resolution?
Are we so selfish, so self absorbed in our own feelings that we cannot find joy and celebrate passing from this life to another?
~~~~~
Found out early this morning when I went back to work that my friend Dale died Saturday.

Saw him a few more times over the summer. He looked surprisingly good last month. Heavier, a bit tanned, and as always, laughing like hell. He had plans to go to Durango over Labor Day weekend despite not being able to ride his bike one last time. I hope he made it.

I do know the decisions of life and death weighed heavily on him. Like many, he worried how long he would be a burden to his family, both emotionally and financially. When to go? I also know he had and arrangement with his best friend and my buddy Joe. I am thankful he died in peace and didn’t have to ask for help.


~~~~~
And I can’t help hearing this in my head

I know you’ll find your true North. Love, Light and Healing to you, Dale…

Maybe tomorrow I can find it in my heart to feel something other than sadness. But not today. Today I choose to be selfish and to grieve.

An addendum to this post dated 14 September.

The funeral was yesterday. On a whim I sent my the Boss Man the copy of what I previously wrote about Dale. Normally I don’t share stuff like that in the office – especially with the Boss Man – But he knew Dale for 20+ years.

They service was gut wrenching for a number of us. Boss Man talked for a long time. And used some of what I had sent along from my last conversations…key phrases in a way so I would know. I’m sure of it. His laughter, his unending use of 4 letter words, his sparkling baby blue eyes, his laughter. And finally, how some saw Dale as a gruff SOB…..and others, well others really ‘got’ Dale…who he was as a man and a friend. I was honored that he took the time to read what I sent and to share parts of that. No, no one but the two of us knew… *smile*

When we were eating, I heard someone call my name and saw Boss Man crooking his finger at me from across the room. Ahhh SHIT! What did I do now? I’m never quite sure. I’m always in trouble. He is 6’9″, 250+ pounds. Yikes, he’s one BIG man.

I didn’t see what he had in his hand but he motioned me to follow so I did….followed behind him as tried this door and that door. Finally he turned to me. I realized I was backed into a corner between a pop machine and a wall, and he was asking if I wanted to say goodbye. Utterly stunned as he handed me the box containing Dales ashes and turned his back to me. This way he effectively shielded me from public view. I talked to Dale and gave him my love for the last time. As I gave Boss Man back the box and thanked him with tears in my eyes, he gave me a great big hug – told me it would all be ok.

I don’t have any words for how very much that single gesture meant, and will always mean to me. He understands more than any of us even realize.

It’s all good now. Really. I will remember him with a smile.

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INfatuation, IN Lust & IN Love

Posted on Saturday, 9 September, 2006 by Rosa

What’s love got to do, got to do with it
What’s love but a second hand emotion
What’s love got to do, got to do with it
Tina Turner

As I sip the last of a beautiful Colorado brewed Peach and Honey Mead, I sort through another recent conversation about Love and being In Love.

What exactly is being In Love?

Well, I know this much…InFatuation and In Lust are a smell me, fuck me, lick me, suck me, puppy dog, tongue hanging out, follow you anywhere, do anything for you in hopes of…more. More what? Well, more of whatever it is we think we want, crave, and desire. Eyes Closed.

We willfully and wantonly pursue powerful chemicals cursing through our system. We immerse ourselves in The Other, in their likes, their dislikes, their interests, their hobbies, their philosophies and their friends with the hope of giving enough to receive some sort of pleasure in return. We float along, believing all is worth our efforts. We blindly submit as we perceive those feelings of ecstasy as being In Love and as Love. Eyes closed.

I’ve found through too many failed marriages and countless times of believing I was In Love that I substituted In Lust and InFatuation for Love. I gave all of myself to The Other. Neglecting cherished friends The Other did not particularly get along with, abandoning some for the jealous monster and The Other’s control issues, giving up my hobbies, likes, interests, most of my goals and even fundamental beliefs. And I believed…Yep, Better Living Through Wearing Chemical Blinders. Eyes Closed.

Lust? Sure. I lust after all my closest male friends in some way. All have been physical, emotional, intellectual and/or spiritual lovers. But lust all the time? No, not at all. What does exist is a deep caring and desire to sexually please them above and beyond the simple pleasure and release of hedonistic sex.

After a particularly mind blowing, orally derived orgasm, he managed (between gasping for breath) to spit out, “OHHHHHHH! Awesome! OHHH! Fuck ME!! Now that’s skill!!!” Yes Darlin’, Fuck You indeed. That was the point. But I was startled (ok, ok flattered as well) by the reaction. And I’m still chuckling…No, not skill in any way.

In all seriousness, it’s taking the time to know his desire, truly appreciating his body, and delighting in his total male-ness is where I willingly submit for the pleasure it gives both of us. It’s caring and sharing, trust and respect, honesty and intimacy, and total acceptance without expectations of something in return. I may desire it, but I don’t expect it or always necessarily need it. I know from direct experience it just would not be that good or even possible without those deeper feelings–beyond Lust. Eyes Open.

InFatuation? Ok, I have been totally smitten with some. Those have never worked for me. It’s the deep and understanding friendship which creates the sincere, and not desperately created interest in their life; their likes, dislikes, their friends, and hobbies (even if it is football or golf or poker where I really don’t understand the attraction). It is ultimately more meaningful and joyful than that giddy, puppy dog feeling we call being In Love. Support for The Other’s interests, hobbies and goals is healthy. Sharing some of them is healthy. Immersing oneself to the point of giving up heart and soul is not–beyond InFatuation. Eyes Open.

Too often we are In Love with the idea of being In Love. Tired of our present life, struggling to get out of a rut or a bad relationship, we strive to find or create something different, new, and exciting for ourselves. We know what hasn’t worked in the past even if we were the one who solidly rejected any potential laid out before us. We blind ourselves to possibilities when we don’t feel that overpowering chemical reaction, and we are equally blind when we do. So at all cost we must do something/anything totally different. We substitute Ourselves for Theirs in our desperation to be desired/wanted/loved. All well and good. We all want. We all desire love and acceptance. But we need to do it without making sacrifices in our basic nature, interests, beliefs and philosophy about life. Or attempting to give The Other what they need because it’s easier than working through a difference of opinion, and accepting a large difference in a basic belief of what is right for us. We try to force what we need and believe on The Other. And we hope beyond all hope they will change. And that we can change for them. I’ve done it all the time. Eyes Closed.

So how much InFatuation and In Lust are a necessay and healthy part of being In Love or of Love? InFatuation and In Lust are very minimal components of the Love I feel for those close male friends and lovers. The Love is shared and not one sided. It is strong, always present, and deeper than a fleeting chemical reaction. It’s a knowing in and of one and another’s soul. Basic to the core. Humbling to be with. It is total acceptance for that whole person with Eyes Open.

Yes, the second hand emotions are the InFatuation and the In Lust we define as being In Love, and we too readily substitute those for Love itself…

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Shedding

Posted on Sunday, 13 August, 2006 by Rosa

Like a snake she sheds the outer covering that has become dull, undersized and constricts her growth. Over and over, she rubs away the old to expose the gleaming new skin underneath. She works slowly and deliberately, a millimeter at a time, as to not leave rough or jagged pieces. Or worse, tear what has not yet become loose.

Up until the morning I moved in, I was not sure this was the right decision. But I was determined to stick with that decision regardless of how unsure I felt.

I’ve been in the “new” house for a week. Totally and completely alone, but not lonely.

He is right. There is a lot of love in the house. And I hear laughter. The presence here is strong and steady. Not overwhelming. Not crushing or limiting. A soothing energy washes over me as I observe all that’s here. It’s almost as if the house is accepting me…allowing me to incorporate myself in all it holds.

I watch the movement of light and shadow through the various windows. Deciding which plants will grow where. What pictures to hang. Where to move furniture. What to keep and what to move to the garage. Making a list of what needs to be done.

The bedroom is done to my satisfaction. It’s light and open and airy. Plants and a few pictures of women adorn the walls. A Sensual Sanctuary

The kitchen is arranged to my eating habits. Nourishment

The living/dining room is comfortable. The view of the Peak is stunning in the late afternoon as the sun streams through the west facing windows. Family, Friends, Community
Light in the morning floods the dining area from the French doors. I sketch in the morning light. Creativity

The yard is mowed. Some weeds pulled. I noticed the first ripe grapes today. And from a vine only a year old. Odd, the rest are not nearly ready to eat. The white bloom graces the dark purple skin. Beautiful. Small, but sweet. They must have ripened as a welcoming treat just for me. This week I will begin weeding the garden. The hot tub is a warm coccoon were I cloud watch. Relaxation and Inspiration

The study, bedrooms, family room will have to wait. Don’t much feel like working. And my oldest and his fiancée won’t be here for over a week. No hurry. The house requires a deliberate patience from me.

At night I sit in the dark and look out through the open French doors into the yard feeling the cool breeze, and listening for sounds. No creaking, groaning or moaning. The faint noise of a train in the distance.
I’m quiet, peaceful, serene.

My meditations have been unusually long and deep. At last. Peace…

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A Look Into the Present

Posted on Monday, 24 July, 2006 by Rosa

I caught a quick glimpse of her today…

Hair pulled back in a loose bun…slim and small boned..small breasted with stand up nipples…bare belly peaking out between the short shirt and low slung pants…a bit older than I would guess from the gray hair and laugh lines around her eyes…

She threw her shoulders back and lifted her chin in a slightly defiant gesture as she noticed my inquisitive stare. Oddly familiar. Do I know her? She was still smiling as I turned to go.

Mmmmm…a lovely, sexy, confident woman, I thought to myself as I walked away from an unexpected glance in the mirror on my way out the door…

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Crossings

Posted on Sunday, 23 July, 2006 by Rosa

The bridge swayed in the wind, moaning loudly. She cringed and dropped her head in a gesture of not wanting to acknowledge the slats, cracked and worn thin from a lifetime of passages. Some were recently replaced with disappointment and uncertainty. The bridge was narrow and barely ample enough for one. Two could not walk together or pass without touching.

She had not meant to approach the bridge it at all. She had meant to avoid it completely, to take another path. The path of faster, easier, and more protected.

Eventually, she gave into the walk. It was the shortest path. But it was also the one that left her open and vulnerable. She moved forward. Hesitating and unsure at first, she tried not to reach for support. She paused before and after each step, wondering if it would give or hold. Despite her fear, she knew that what she had built was structurally sound. A mis-step would not result in a tumble into the murky water. Some slats best stepped over. Unimportant for now as long as the bridge held. Each step flowed into the next as night turned to day and day to night…

The way they slid together into bed that evening jolted her. She fully expected awkwardness. And coolness from the remaining uncertainties of slats deliberately avoided. But their movements were automatic and rapid. As natural as if the fit had always been theirs and theirs alone. Once again, familiar and intimate.

The full length of their bodies entwined. Her head nestled into his shoulder. His fingertips touched her forehead. Light as a feather. Soothing her. No cares. No worries. One hand caressed her breast and circled the ring that gave her additional pleasure. Her arms rested on his in a gentle embrace.

His tender kisses traveled down her neck and across her shoulder. Sweet, whispered words intoned his desire as she struggled against the sleep that threatened to claim her. Drifting…her growing need and want for him was slowly replaced with an awareness of faint threads passing through and around. Over and under. Not a binding, but the creation of a layer that captured them in the here and now. Cocooned inside a transparent bubble. Nearly invisible to all. Untouchable by most. Only those insulated know and feel its presence. And with the slightest gasp of a skipped heartbeat she realized it was not just the joy she found in their sexual joining that was so very important or so very meaningful.

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Feelin' Groovy

Posted on Friday, 7 July, 2006 by Rosa

I want to find a clear, cold lake and scour the shoreline for rocks worn thin and smooth. Held between thumb and forefinger with a sideways flick of the wrist and arm, sends it sailing on an almost level plane with the lake. How many times will the rock skip across the water?

I want a belly ache. Complete with tin pail, and face, mouth, hands stained with the sticky sweetness of fresh blueberries. Is there enough left for a pie or two?

I want to sit on the edge of the porch at dusk, quiet and waiting in anticipation. There’s one. And another. Get the jar with holes punched in the top. How many lightening bugs can I catch?

I want to sprawl in the tall, fragrant meadow. Pick a wide blade of grass. Place it between my thumbs and blow. It tickles my lip. Can I make it sing?

I want to walk in the hardwood forest. The dark brown, spongy, layers of leaves yielding under my footsteps. Turn over that rock. What’s under that log? How many newts and salamanders can I find today?

I want to buy Italian lemon ice in a cup off the ice cream truck and eat it with a flat balsam wood spoon. Cold and tart, infused with bits of rind. Can I have another?

After the rain stopped today and the sun peaked out from behind snow white clouds, I walked down the dirt road splashing in every puddle along the way. The stock ponds are filled and overflowing. Calves are still trying to nuzzle momma. I gazed into Bessie’s massive dark eyes and scratched her face as I leaned on the fence chewing the end of a blade of grass, plump and sweet.
Pants muddied, socks and shoes soaked by the time I returned to the house. I have a braided ring of dandelions as a crown for my head.

We don’t ever loose our innocence. It’s just temporarily misplaced in the hustle and bustle of our so called lives…

So go…

Fly a kite
Feed giraffes at the zoo
Make a sand castle
Stick your feet in a stream
Look for the end of the rainbow
Share a Popsicle with a friend
Pick lint out of your belly button
Turn over a log
Find a kewl rock for your pocket
Scare the cat
Roll down a long grassy hill
Make a paper airplane
Hop on a swing, pump your legs and point your toes to the sky
Run barefoot through the grass
Make a chain out of gum wrappers
Smile at a stranger
Make mud pies
Look for tadpoles
Smell honeysuckle after the rain
Watch the clouds
Find a maple seed, peel it open and stick to on your nose
Climb a tree
Skip down the street
Use Bert and Ernie band aids
Mark the sidewalk with bright white chalk
Hop on one foot
Twirl around until you collapse on the ground, dizzy and laughing
Run through the sprinkler
Read Dr. Seuss
Whittle a stick
Tell a stupid joke
Eat a PB&J sandwich on white bread
Make faces at the dog
Watch the ants
Feed the ducks
Braid dandelions for your hair
Pick a flower. She loves me, she loves me not
Wish on a star
Kiss your sweetheart
Wander aimlessly

Slow down, you move too fast.
You got to make the morning last.
Just kicking down the cobble stones.
Looking for fun and feelin’ groovy.
Hello lamppost,
What cha knowing?
I’ve come to watch your flowers growing.
Ain’t cha got no rhymes for me?
Doot-in’ doo-doo,
Feelin’ groovy.

Got no deeds to do,
No promises to keep.
I’m dappled and drowsy and ready to sleep.
Let the morning time drop all its petals on me.
Life, I love you,
All is groovy.
[59th Street Bridge Song (Feelin’ Groovy), Simon & Garfunkel]

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Memories For Sale

Posted on Monday, 26 June, 2006 by Rosa

Another one of those Life Interrupted moments…

mood: fed up, heels dug in, stubborn, aggravated, sad.

What: Just about everything including the kitchen sink
Where: Sunny Colorado
When: Sometime in the next month
Asking Price: Best offer. You haul.

Items: Antique furniture in cherry, walnut and oak. 50-100 yr old linens, crystal, china. Books, books, books, tools, small electronics, power tools, air compressor, gardening tools, oriental rugs, depression glass, 1920’s-1940’s costume jewelry, contemporary Spanish weavings, lapidary equipment and 100’s of pounds assorted rock. 2 couches, chairs, TV, dressers, treadle sewing machine, steamer trunk, outdoor furniture, 100’s of clay pots, quilts, sewing and craft items, curtains, dishes, pots, pans, 20 yr boy child, piano, end tables, office equipment. Two 92 Subaru wagons in pieces complete with engine and tranny-can make 1 good car out of all parts. 100 plants. Washer and Maytag dryer. 16 cu ft upright deep freezer. Exercise equipment and much more. Log house on wooded acre with detached garage. 49 yr old, attractive, sexy, female who loves sex and laughter. Assorted memories from another time and place-free.

Not for sale: China cabinet, teapots, vases, Christmas ornaments, mandolin, gardening books, sewing machine, 1860’s hand carved rocking chair, 1890’s quilt, vases, bed and dresser, dining room table and chairs, metronome, jewelry, rolling pin, chiming wall clock, family pictures.

Fuck it. I’m done. Not packing it all. Not storing it all. Have at it. Serious inquiries only.

wipes hands, turns and walks away…

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Dreams

Posted on Friday, 16 June, 2006 by Rosa

For my part I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream.
Vincent Van Gogh 1852-1890

Never forget your dreams…

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Gotcha Back, Honey

Posted on Thursday, 15 June, 2006 by Rosa

My folks celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary a few weeks ago. I just don’t know how they do it, but they do. I found this in my mailbox this morning.

Your father sent this to me. He says # 1 applies to me. I told him he should review, then memorize, numbers 12, 16, 18 & 21. Love, Mom

Zen Sarcasm

1. Do not walk behind me, for I may not lead. Do not walk ahead of me for I may not follow. Do not walk beside me either. Just pretty much leave me the hell alone.

12. If you tell the truth, you don’t have to remember anything.

16. A closed mouth gathers no foot.

18. There are two theories to arguing with women. Neither one works.

21. Never miss a good chance to shut up.

She really kills me sometimes.

Now get this, he SENT it to her. On e-mail. They live in the SAME house. Their computers are in the SAME ROOM a few feet from each other. He’s messing with her. I know it. But he really ought to know better by now because payback is an art form with my mother.

4 years ago…
She got really tired of hearing him bitch for weeks about having to take her for a mammogram, and how having her boobs being squished on cold metal wasn’t all that painful.

So after they got home from her mammogram, she told him she needed to change into something more comfortable because she was sore from the procedure. And came out of the bedroom sans shirt. Asked him if he liked what else they did for her at the hospital. Well, the nipple jewelry must have been realistic looking because he thought she really had her nipples pierced.

I really didn’t need that visual, Mom. I can’t believe you are telling me this…

You gotta admit, the whole idea is pretty funny. These are my parents. I was laughing hard by then. And as silently as I could because we were in the local Community Center at the Senior breakfast. My Dad wasn’t that far away chasing down more pancakes.

So she tells me very smugly how he is such a dimwit to even think the hospital would pierce her nipples. His reaction…

“You’re FUCKING trying to kill me. I know it. You’re TRYING to give me a FUCKING heart attack.

It took him three days to get over it? So where did you get them? Online? ONLINE???

She ignored me and continued to tell me how she e-mailed all the other female relatives in the family about the whole thing. His sisters, her cousins, my great aunts. And she let him know she did.

Ohhh, that’s so harsh, Mom. What did Aunt Edith say? She fell off the couch because she was laughing so hard?

Then she told me (without batting an eye) that I could borrow hers if I ever wanted to get back at him (my current husband). She was being funny. I think. I never answered the question. I just couldn’t.

Should I actually tell her my nipples are already pierced? Nah, better not. She’ll tell everyone in the family just to get me back. ONLINE? WTF? Where online? Where the hell did she get that idea? What else are you looking at online? My mother surfs PORN online? She’s messin’ with me. I know it…

Yep, my Dad should really know better by now. After all, she took the snake she bought here one year on a plane back to NJ with no one knowing. And then scared the hell out him with it on the NJ Turnpike (but that’s another story).

No, she has no evil twin. She is the evil twin. All the time…

Guess they have things worked out between them after all these years. Gotta love ‘em.

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Tall, Dark Fantasy

Posted on Monday, 12 June, 2006 by Rosa

Decided to visit the girl child for a bit after work. She’s a bartender as a 2nd job. They always have a decent happy hour with great half price appetizers. Supper and a few drinks for under 12 bucks. What a deal. I need a break anyway.

Left the Credit Card  in the car. It’s raining. In my haste to get to the bar,  I grabbed the wrong set of keys. Which wouldn’t be wrong except that the boy child 170 miles away has the spare from that set. Third time in 6 months. Did I ever get that hide-a-key? That would be NO. Sometimes I do pay a price for my laziness…

Oh well, now that it’s summer I tend to leave at least one window cracked. Keys are sitting on the seat. Girl child and her customers have a great laugh when I asked for a coat hanger. Yeah, yeah, meet the batrender’s dumb-ass Mom.

I’m working for about 15 minutes when I notice a man a few spaces down get out of his car and glance my way. And continue walking into the hotel. Crap.
Now, I have received looks other times from passersby in this sort of mis-adventure. And I’ve said some smartass things in my frustration. “It’s OK, don’t need any help, thanks. I’m breaking into someone elses car.” This time I keep my big mouth shut.

A moment later he walked out and got in his car. Shit. I’m so absorbed in trying to get the damn keys, he scared the bejeesus outta me asking if I need help. As he works on fishing the keys out of the seat, I’m thinking that in this crappy neighborhood surely the cops are gonna come by to see what this wet haired, wet t-shirted, grubby-from-working-all-day white chick is doing with the tall black dude and a coat hanger breaking into someone’s car. Would be just my luck. Credit card is in the bar with girl child. ID is in the locked car. No cop is really gonna believe this…

So he’s a nice guy. Hmmmm. Mid thirties, tall, thin, handsome, and bald. No signs of a wedding ring. And a decent flirt. WhooHoo. I’m thinking maybe my luck has changed. Hmmmm. The fantasy grows. What would I like to do to him? With him? Big cock or not? Never done a black guy (thanks for the reminder my friend). Hmmmm. Maybe he’s attached. Thinking that I’m so horny, I really don’t care. Shees, he can probably smell me by now. Hot tub, drinks, music, sex, sex, and more sex. Sure, I could be late for work tomorrow…

YES!! Got the keys. Offer to buy him drinks for for helping me out. Plan in action. We’re sitting and talking about the area since he’s relatively new here, and I only really have half an ear because of this hot fantasy going on in my head. Ok maybe it shows. I don’t care. He’s on his 2nd drink. I’m downing a third.

So when he asked me about the gay friendly bars in town? I must have turned 10 shades of red as my mouth hit the floor. He’s laughing. I’m stuttering.

“Uhhh, Can we start over? Hi, my name is Rosa, I’m bi and since we’re not gonna have sex want to go clubbing or shopping sometime?”

“Sure since you’re family, girlfriend. But just remember I get dibs on the guys. I’ll throw you the leftovers. The ones who like girls.” Now he’s laughing at me.

“Fine, but if I get hit on at the bar you HAVE to at least PRETEND we’re together, K?” Heehee…

Shit…can’t win for loosing. Do I know how to pick them or what? Tall, black, good lookin’, gay guy. Probably has a monster cock, too. Oh well, at least I made a new girlfriend. And got a nice hug.

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Buried Memories

Posted on Sunday, 11 June, 2006 by Rosa

He knew nothing about me. We had only talked briefly on the phone.

“Yes,” I told him, “Arms crossed. Facing east. Thank you, I understand. Here’s the number. I’ll get back with the arrangements.”

We met formally in the afternoon a few weeks later.

The Ute Elder asked, “Do the plants talk to you, Little One?” His voice was soft. But it demanded an answer.

I looked downward, averting my eyes partially in respect, but much more in discomfort at his question. I replied sadly, “No, they don’t.”

As I slowly looked back up, his eyes cut me like a shard of glass.

“Perhaps you need to listen more closely, Little One.”

Yes, perhaps I do…

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So It Was

Posted on Tuesday, 6 June, 2006 by Rosa

a really bad day.

But, I am constantly reminded of why I like my job. We provide daily support for one another. Yup, we can yell at each other and it’s ok. Gripe, snipe, and snit at each other. Laugh, cry, hug, pick each other up and push each other along. Kick each other in the ass. Constantly. We have each other’s backs. I can’t imagine it any other way.

This is only one example of what makes me feel so very good about the people I work with. And it’s typical.

A message on my cell phone from Mead today down in the canyon. I hear the unmistakable sound of the wind noise in the background and tires on the limestone road. Judging from the time, I know he’s running in the Brush truck.

“Hey Trouble, just called to let you know everything is fine.” There’s slight laughter in his voice. “Owe him a bunch of beer-drinkin’ for spotting that fire today. No, he isn’t on the line with us but I really appreciate all the help he’s giving us today.”

WTF? I sure didn’t expect a “your kid is OK” call, or even ask for one. I chuckled cuz they all know he’s new to this. Flat tires, broken trucks, thunderstorms from hell that push 5 feet of water thru the crossings, rattlesnakes, mud thick enough to suck up entire trucks, heat, lightning and plenty of wildfires. Welcome to the joys of fieldwork.
But, boy child is a damn good wildland firefighter for his young age. He’s not entirely green. He’s worked fire with Mead and Joe and Dale and Tom and Dan and others in the canyon. This time tho, he can’t play with the big boys like we all hoped because of a liability issue.

Boy child calls me later this afternoon.

“Hey Mom, it’s all good. Wow, what great day.” Laughing. “No, I didn’t bring any gear. Just my Nomex pants. But I got to help Mead with some stuff. Didn’t get any other work done tho.”

Didn’t ask for that “I’m OK” call either. Sweet.

There’s no need for me to tell him but I say it anyway, “Plants can wait. Whatever happens in the canyon, stays in the canyon. And whatever Mead needs, he gets. I know if he ever asks for help on a fire it’s because he needs it. And he’ll have your back about it. It’s his call. Hun, there are a few people I trust with my life, and yours. Mead is one of them.

“I know. Me too Mom. Gotta go. Love you. See you Friday.”

“Love you too. Be safe.”

Hey Klaveeter, did I ever tell you? You ROCK, my friend. Thanks. The next few rounds of dark beers are on me. You can count on it. And Mead, be safe.

Yes, we have each other’s backs. Be safe.

My canceled trip today was supposed to be to the canyon. Guess I wasn’t supposed to be there after all…

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Born Under a Bad Sign

Posted on Tuesday, 6 June, 2006 by Rosa

I am Fucking as annoyed as I can be. mood: Grrrrr, with undertones of sarcasm

No I did not bring all my backups to work, or the HD or all my software since I wasn’t going to be in the office to reload my ‘puter. Or lunch, or ½ and ½ for my coffee, or my weight gaining snacks…

Trip canceled. Now, 2 trips down the mountain, 2 trips up the mountain to the tune of 120 miles. FINE…no ones fault. I like driving.

So instead of being annoyed because it doesn’t change a damn thing, maybe I will instead float downstream or take a ride on that warm thermal rising off the base of the mountain.
Let the chips fall were they may, someone else can pick them up, someone else can expend the energy, someone else can make the fucking decisions. Now how fucking hard is this one gonna be? HEY, I’m a Capricorn (so just make sure they are the same decisions I would make would ya). FINE…now folding arms across chest and stepping back

Thinking that job as the towel lady in the spa would be nice.
Greeter at Wally World sounds pretty good.
Lock me in a darkroom. Any call for custom printmakers these days?
How about a greenhouse? I can pot plants all day.
Toll booth operator. Yeah! How many ways can you say “Have a NICE day”?

Fuck me, I’m off to drive back down the mountain. But I’m still not playing…Or at least not trying to…

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Lions & Tigers & Bears, oh MY

Posted on Sunday, 4 June, 2006 by Rosa

She pushed open my half closed door to relay the latest about her ex’s new antics. It wasn’t the abruptness of having the door flung open. It wasn’t the loudness of her voice invading my space so early in the morning. It’s been over two years since she’s been divorced, and it’s always the same. Her words were filled with contempt, disgust and hate…venomous.

My reaction was more than startling. A shock reverberated through my body. Physical pain. I found myself pushing the chair away from my desk and realizing I had nowhere to go. I shut down instantly as the panic set in. Numb to any emotion-hers or mine. Protection from the assault. But I couldn’t take my eyes off her. It was almost as is I was daring her to cross that invisible line, newly created between us.

My reaction felt like it took place in a nanosecond. Her diatribe lasted less than a minute. I barely mumbled something intelligible about contacting her lawyer before she stormed off obviously unhappy with my response.

I sat at my desk for a few minutes seeing myself in her many times throughout my various lives. Wronged, angry, full of self pity, worried, anxious, angry and stuck in the cycle. Lions and Tigers and Bears, indeed…

(rhetorical questions for the day)
How do we get there? Why do we get so stuck? Is it really comfortable to be the victim? Are some always the victim? Over and over. Why do we willingly and continually surrender that much power to others? Is it so much less energy to maintain the status quo of negativity, unhappiness, hate, self-pity and loathing? Inaction and entropy without energy input? Where does it end? Does it ever end for some? Do we enjoy playing out helplessness, crisis, and drama?

Dorothy always had the power but she had to discover it herself…Close your eyes and tap your heels together three times…

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Last but Not Least

Posted on Friday, 26 May, 2006 by Rosa

None of these will come off the fridge for a while.
Told a friend not so long ago that they represent full circle for me. They are a reminder of where I was, where I am and where I need to go. Sometimes I’m in one of them and sometimes another.
After a while there are only so many words left. Fitting that these found their place on my fridge too.


Power together
soar
through black
in
one light

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Never go
less
if you want
it all

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