Thursday, December 23, 2004

Wood Elves and Door Check Chicks

Recently, Hot Toddy and The Math Whiz and I collaborated at C.C. Slaughters. We were, as usual, surrounded by boy porn, my personal favorite. The Hot Bartender always accommodates my boy porn need by putting in “something good [for you].” I must admit, I am impressed with his selections.

In our usual joking fashion and in an attempt to mock a certain NYC indiscretion, Hot Toddy declared, “Let me know if you see anyone you like in here, so that I can hurry and go kiss them!” The Math Whiz and I made a quick assessment of what was available at C.C.’s. The Math Whiz and I agreed, there was no one.

“Well,” Hot Toddy said, “I want to kiss someone, so pick someone that I can kiss.” With Hot Toddy completely underestimating my boldness and trusting me completely, I said, “Hey, Hot Bartender,” he looks up, “Yeah, Auburn Pisces.” “Can Todd kiss you?”

For the briefest of moments, there were no words spoken. A pause really, followed by a look of horror… “Can YOU kiss me?” What the hell, like I’m second rate goods? Oh, wait, I have breasts, that’s the problem – duh, I’m in a gay bar. “NO!... Can Todd kiss you?”

An instant sigh of relief, “Now THAT I can do. Todd can kiss me anytime.” Whew, my job here is done!

And then I got it with both barrels… “Auburn Pisces, you just totally embarrassed me! I can’t believe you did that!” “What,” I coyly replied “you said I could pick the guy. Hot Bartender is the best guy.” “I know, but you didn’t have to say that!”

You’d think after all this time, Hot Toddy’s Toaster Oven would realize, I’m not lacking in ovaries. I don’t when the red glow of embarrassment faded from Toddy’s face following that exchange.

While ordering the next round and as the bar became increasingly more crowded, I couldn’t help but notice the abundance of straight chicks bouncing all over the place. I mentioned this to The Hot Bartender. “It isn’t enough straight chicks hang out in the lesbian bars, now they’re invading gay bars.” Hot Bartender agreed noting that Darcelle 15 was just around the corner and they do a big business in engagement parties. The straight girls just cruise around the corner to C.C.’s.

As one of these obviously straight, plastic girls bopped on by I watched her walk toward the door. She stopped to speak to the door check. And then the comedy between the three of us ensued:

“Where’d that straight chick go?”
“She’s talking to Dora the Door Check Chick.” (I have no idea what her name really is)
“Dora the door check chick?!
“What if Dora the Door Check Chick was a geek? Then she’d be Dora the Dorky Door Check Chick!”
“What if Dora the Dorky Door Check Chick was from Czechoslovakia? Then she’d be Dora the Dorky Czech Door Check Chick.”
“Well, if she’s from Czechoslovakia then her last name would probably be Chekhov. That would make her Dora Chekhov the Dorky Czech Door Check Chick.”

It was all we could do to keep it together we were laughing so hard.

Later on, we noticed that there was one man on the dance floor. This man was clearly hammered. He looked similar to a man we see around the office buildings where we work. We call him the Wood Elf. We don’t know who he is. He has a smallish body and a little head and his face looks like, well, an elf. The man on the dance floor looked like him.

We watched as he gyrated all over the place. Is he on X? Is he just drunk? He was wearing a tie and slacks so he must work downtown somewhere. At one point he removed his tie while he was dancing and it became a prop. Holding each end (in all of his.. ahem.. drunken sexiness…blech) he placed the tie behind his head and slid it shoulder to wrist. It was quite a spectacle.

At one point Hot Toddy states, “God, I hope he doesn’t hang himself with that tie. That would be horrible. He’d just be hanging there . Wouldn’t it be funny if he hung himself and I walked up and not knowing he was dead asked him to dance? … Okay, I’m going to spin you now!” Todd pretended to grab an arm and fling him. Though this all sounds in poor taste, okay, maybe it was, but it was funny as hell as Hot Toddy made his comedic delivery. I couldn’t stop laughing.

The funny thing is, later that evening after The Math Whiz left, Todd and I were sitting alone at that same table just talking, when approaching us from the bar was none other than – you guessed it – the wood elf.

As we saw him approaching, I positioned myself to face sideways so as to not make eye contact. Toddy, having the big heart that he does, (placed his left hand on my thigh and squeezed my leg), awaiting the train wreck. “Hi” the wood elf spoke. Todd greeted him with kindness and then proceeded to try not to laugh (or make my leg bleed) while he gently turned down wood elf’s advances.

That poor little man tried everything to convince Toddy it would be time well spent. If only he knew the image that we both had in our heads from his dance earlier. The wood elf finally went away, moving from guy to guy down the bar back toward the dance floor, all alone. The poor little elf bastard.

With 2004 coming to a close, I find myself reflective of all the laughter I have shared with good friends this year. I am glad to find I will end the year thinking of this rather than all the heavy relationship crap that’s taken place this year. Wait, I guess I just thought about it didn’t I? The good thing is it rents less space in my head now than it used to. Hot Toddy continues to chant (for both our benefit) time is what it takes to heal. He’s right. Hot Toddy’s Toaster Oven is a wise man. We should all listen to him more. Especially if you are The Rock, a cute, Asian, blonde bodybuilder, a Hot Bartender and men of substance.

I have met and strengthened friendships that I know will last a lifetime. Friends are those you choose to be in your life. And I think I’ve picked some pretty amazing friends. I hope they feel as blessed to have me in their lives as I do to have them in mine.

And then there are blog friends. Hot Toddy and Pony are the two who bitched at convinced me to start this blog. Thank you to the two of them for hookin’ me up. Not only am I having a good time blogging, I have gained new friends here as well. You are all such amazing people with such kind hearts.

It’s been interesting to read back through my blog and see where I was at based on my writing. It truly is cathartic. Hopefully in the New Year my blog will be less introspective and more light-hearted.

It isn’t as though I’m ever short on comedic material to write. Just yesterday HTTO and I were finishing up lunch when he remembered he wanted to stop by his bank and make a deposit. In filling out the deposit slip where you would normally write the bank numbers off of the check, he wrote Aub… and then leaned in closer to look at it. I leaned in the same time he did to see what the hell he was doing and we both started laughing.

The funny thing is that he didn’t even write Marilyn (my real name). He was actually writing Auburn Pisces on the deposit slip. My sweet, A.D.D. Libra. Goddess love ‘em.

Night before last we were at C.C.’s with Ms Karma and Mama Karma. Mama Karma had just flown in from France. Conversations were all over the place. Hot Toddy was in rare form and as usual, I couldn’t stop laughing. Every time Mama Karma would begin a story Todd would encourage her to continue by interrupting her and saying, “You go ahead, Mama Karma, put it on out there. You tell us your story.”

At one point Mama Karma said, “When I celebrated Ramadan in Bahrain I….” That’s all the further she got before Hot Toddy interjected (in dramatic form with as serious a delivery as he could give), “Oh, if I had a nickel for every time I celebrated Ramadan in Bahrain…..” We lost it right after the “if I had a nickel” part. The man is a genius.

I am very pleased that he and The Handsome Prince and The Math Whiz and Hot Momma and Ms Karma and Oak Point Man and Brown Eyes and Diomedes are all part of my life. Let the good times roll.

Merry Christmas!

Tuesday, December 21, 2004

Grooveless on Solstice

I can’t find a groove right now. The odd thing is that I feel okay but events seem to leave me feeling as though everything is in disarray. Even where to begin seems difficult.

I think I decided this last weekend to sell my house. In as much as the mere thought of moving again exhausts me mentally, I don’t see any reason to continue to live in a 3,000 square foot house. I’m not knocking the openness or space I have. On the contrary, I love it. It just seems like such abundance isn’t necessary.

I bought the house with Daddy D. Though my name is the only name on the loan, we made the commitment together. We were to be a family in that house. We bought it specifically because it had that much space. We had ideas about how to utilize it that best fit our lifestyle.

The house has never really been what I wanted. As a matter of fact, I was looking at row houses. Something classy, contemporary, and perfect for just me and my kid. And then this relationship appeared out of nowhere and swept me off my feet.

I trusted her. I trusted in all that she shared; all that she promised. The house needed cosmetic updates that were only going to increase the value of the house and with little effort. Those things were, however, not things this femme could do on her own. Hell, I don’t even own a decent set of tools. My tool box consists of donations from friends (thank you, Nancy). And, donations are still being accepted!

When we bought the house Daddy D told me we were buying it as friends and that it had nothing to do with our relationship. She said that even in the off chance that we didn’t make it she would still give me money every week to help care for the house. She said that she’d still come over and take care of all of the butch things that needed doing. None of these things would appear to be true at this point. Dare I hold my breath? I think not.

In the time we were in the house together, we did get some things started. Notice I said started. Daddy D’s never finished anything she’s started in the house which is definitely unlike a Virgo. And to be quite frank, now that she’s moved onto her next ex, I doubt she’ll be bothering to see any of those projects to completion, though she still swears she’s going to.

I was able to re-fi the house and eliminate a large chunk of my debt load. That was cool. Except that every time I make the inflated house payment it rocks my world for a little while. It truly was advantageous to consolidate and I’m glad I did. I realized this last weekend that a house payment that big was ridiculous though.

I have an entire downstairs that’s empty. Auburn Aries won’t even go downstairs if it’s dark because it scares her. I can’t fix the house up, nor can I afford to hire a contractor to finish up what’s been started. Which I will need to do in order to sell house.

The house and all that it represents, ties me to Daddy D. So many promises were made in that house that have all been broken. So many moments shared that will never be again. In the meantime, I float around in the house trying to make it a home, which I have done for Auburn Aries, but it all seems so pointless sometimes.

I will keep Auburn Aries in the same school and try to find something in the same area for the time being. I need to find someone to help me get a few things done before I can sell it.

I’m not in a hurry to do so. It’s just time to simplify and find my bounty within myself and the love I have for Auburn Aries. She is my priority, not maintaining this damn house. I’ll have to see how things go. This is just where I am at today.

I have a job interview today. It’s for an IT Performance Analyst. The job sounds perfect. I find myself excited and nervous. I have become so accustomed to working with Ms Karma and Hot Toddy’s Toaster Oven that not being near them all day long would suck. But I can no longer hate coming to work every day because I work for a woman who just doesn’t get it. Perhaps if I were ten years younger, I would be willing to play her bullshit games and go toe-to-toe with her. But I’m not and I won’t. I’m just not there anymore. This isn’t what I’m supposed to be doing.

I attended a Yule ritual Sunday night. My friends the Arch-Druid and the High Priestess invited me to join them this year. My spiritual guide and dear friend The Druid wrote the ritual. I found it fun and spiritually rewarding. Each time I have participated in rituals with this particular group of people, I feel empowered. Even more so than when I practice alone. Being a Solitaire has its advantages. Participating as part of a group, at times, has even more.

I know that concerning all things, I need to release it to the Powers and have faith things will work out as they should. Why, right now, does it feel so hard?

Then there’s Christmas. I cannot seem to find a groove with that either this year. My house is decorated. Fairy Godmother put the lights up for me this year. Our tree is the best one yet. Auburn Aries is so proud of it. Daddy D came by and saw it and said it looks like a femme’s Christmas tree. Was that a compliment or a slam? I’m taking it as a compliment. Last year I got to see what the butch tree looked like and mine is better.

I haven’t finished shopping for my daughter yet. Though I am close to being done. There isn’t excitement in the air for me this year. I haven’t played any Christmas music like I usually do. Quite frankly, I’m afraid to. I know they’ll just make me cry and realize what I'm missing this year. With my Mom dying last year it was hard enough. Now add it no parents and the dissolution of a polyamorous relationship in a house I don’t think I want anymore, and my siblings being scattered about. It feels lonely this year. And I don’t like that.

I know that I am blessed in my life. I know that I have many, many things for which to be thankful. Why is it right now all I can feel is what I don’t have? This is such a weird feeling for me. Blessed but empty, loved by lonely, rich in so many ways, yet reduced to thinking of the ways I am not.

I started this entry yesterday (Monday). I got busy and didn’t get a chance to finish it. Today is Winter Solstice which is very exciting. The end of darkness. For someone like me who suffers with Seasonal Affective Disorder, today is a big day for me. Knowing the days become longer and there will be more light is a wonderful feeling. I need to go buy myself some flowers to brighten my day.

After rereading this draft, I find I feel the same today as I did yesterday. I am just going to roll with it and try to not seek answers. Though I have had a lot happen in the last year that has broken my heart, I know that I am stronger than this. This, too, shall pass.

Perhaps it’s just the S.A.D.; perhaps I come by these feelings honestly. All I know right now is that I need to have Patience and Faith and believe that everything will be okay. Somehow things have a way of working themselves out.

Be well and Happy Solstice!

Friday, December 17, 2004

It's Like Cuttin' a Fat Hog in the Ass

Over lunch at Who Song and Larry’s, the Toaster Oven and Ms Karma and I somehow ended up on the topic of sayings. Actually, it started the lunch conversation which just set the silly tone for the duration of our visit in the Cantina dining experience.

Because I’m having trouble with my memory right now (thanks Who Song, ya bastard), I will have to fast forward and just give you the list of those I shared. Hopefully you will see some of Hot Toddy’s in the comments. I don’t want to steal his thunder!

My folks are from the south. My Mom was from Oklahoma City and my Dad was from McCaskill, Arkansas. Yikes. I know. They met in Texas and moved to San Diego in 1942 or something. I thank my lucky stars every time I get the opportunity to tell people I was born and raised in San Diego. It leaves me the choice to describe the disfunctionality of my family versus people instantly knowing because I tell them I’m from Oklahoma or Arkansas. Isn’t disfunctionality a given in those “parts?”

Anyhoo, on with the list.

When not getting quite what you wanted they said, “It beats a pig and poke.”

When something good happened: “It’s like cuttin’ a fat hog in the ass.”

When complaining about having to do a chore, my Mom would say, “Oh, you’ll do it, if it hair-lips the Governor.”

My parents didn’t swear a lot. For some reason saying “bull shit” was a bad thing, however, saying “Horse Shit Julie” wasn’t.

And then there was my Mom’s version “Horse Junk Julie.”

If something went wrong or someone was upset they said “Soup’s cold now.”

If you were visibly upset or were pissed off at something, my folks would ask, “What’s wrong? You got the jaws?” (meaning you were so mad your jaw was clinched).

If my younger sister, Skinny Girl, was angry and I’d tell share that with my Mom or Dad they’d they said, “Well, she’s got the same clothes to get glad in.” This applied to anyone who was pissed off, not just Skinny Girl.

Then there was my Mom’s statement when she didn’t care, “Say it off the courthouse steps. I’ll give you an hour to draw a crowd.”

When you’d ask if you could have something you’d get “Help your darlin’ self.”

When looking for an estimate of time: “I’ll get to it dreckly.” We all thought dreckly was a word. She was saying “directly” but with that southern drawl…

Then there was the way my Mom said her phone number two two fiiiive, seven eigghhhht wuun wuun. She was so cute!

If someone had an abundance of something it was “They’ve got more (insert item here) than Carter’s got liver pills.”

When obtaining something out of reach there was “I Wrech on over there and got it.” Reached. They were trying to say they reached over and got it. Again, we all thought wrech was a word.

They had so many sayings that we kids were accustomed to hearing that I entered into young adulthood still using them. They felt like home to me. When I was 26, I got my first Unix System Administrator position. The company I worked for had an older woman in Accounts Payable that absolutely loved those sayings and would engage in conversation with me just to hear them. She was astounded at how many there were and constantly threatened to publish them in a little book (too late Barb, they’re on the ‘Net now!).

I finally realized that in certain situations in Corporate America, those expressions had the potential to make you appear uneducated. It’s no wonder with my Dad’s sixth grade education and Mom’s eighth. Being one of 14 children, my folks were old compared to my classmates. I guess if you’re going to have enough kids for a sports team, you have to start young!

There are a lot of things I wish I could change about my childhood. The expressions my family used aren’t one of those things. My ex Daddy D explained it to me one day. She pointed out that you are dealt a hand of cards when you are born. Those cards are the significant events in your life. When you become an adult, you have the choice to throw down one or more of those cards and have opportunities to pick new ones, thus, releasing yourself from the associated baggage.

I suspect that this card from my childhood will end up pretty tattered. I doubt I’ll ever throw this one down.

Wednesday, December 15, 2004

Christmas Eve with AAries or Opening Night with Toddy

While making plans with the Toaster Oven for this weekend and next:

HT: “My play opens Christmas Eve.”
AP: “I really want to go to opening night. Do you think I’ll have trouble finding a babysitter on Christmas eve?”
HT: “No, not at all. I mean, you’re daughter will have lots of *other* Christmases to spend with you, right?”
AP: “Yeah, the day will come when she “don’t wanna” spend Christmases with me anymore.”
HT: “Sorry, Auburn Aries, Santa doesn’t know where your babysitter lives. Maybe your babysitter’s kids will share their presents with you….Maybe.”
AP: “Mommy will have dozens more Christmases to spend with you when Hot Toddy’s play isn’t opening.”

Women Unite!

Several things have taken place today that leave me perplexed. Be forewarned, Street-Auburn Pisces is lurking inside of me today. Okay, she’s not inside, she’s alive and well dancing about in all her glory.

I had a physical today and knowing this, when I stepped into the shower this morning I shaved my legs, armpits, etc. (use your imagination on the etc.). The funny thing is it isn’t as though shaving my legs, pits or "etc." is going to get me a date. I really like my gyno, but as my dear friend Hot Momma (formerly Runs with Fetus or KP) puts it, “she’s like a farm hand.” Personally, I find her to be grounded, honest, and down to earth.

I don’t want my gyno thinking I have poor hygiene. If I were a gyno, I certainly wouldn’t want to see a weeks worth of stubble on one’s legs or the entrance to the bat cave when ones feet hit the stirrups.

It then caused me to ponder what purpose armpit hair serves anyway. Seriously. Especially on women. It just isn’t necessary. Doesn’t matter if you’re butch or femme, gay or straight – no one needs it. Shaving either leaves you allergic to the blades or causes you to have an allergic reaction to the aluminum in deodorants when applied to open pores. Even Tom’s Natural Deodorant isn’t friendly enough some days. (You’ll have to pry my Secret from my cold, dead hands).

Then I jumped on the ol’ menstrual bandwagon. For those that are planning a family, more power to ya. It’s a necessary evil. For those of us who have either a.) Already had our children b.) Don’t plan on having children c.) Are a lesbian or d.) Have had invasive surgery to avoid this, there needs to be a form with a box you can check that says X Periods no longer useful, please stop.

Not to mention stretch marks. Is it not enough we lose absolute control of our bodies for 40 weeks in order to procreate, we have to have stretch marks to serve as a reminder?! We already have the kid to prove we did it.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m one of the lucky ones…no stretch marks. I dodged that bullet. But, for those women who have the constant reminder of stretch marks (and this has to really suck when you’re kid is being a brat – or your husband is being an asshole), aren’t you glad you sacrificed a smokin’ bod for *this*!

Men should have to squeeze a watermelon out their dicks and have to look down and realize they’ve forfeited six pack abs and pecks to die for only to know their chest is now going to become a utility…a tool. Yeah, like THAT would fly.

And bras. In as much as I don’t particularly care for my breasts to be moving about freely while at work, bras suck.

And what idiot invented high heeled shoes. A woman’s toes aren’t supposed to fit into a pointy shoe. I studied dance for ten years. Ballet, jazz, modern and Pointe. After dancing around on your toes in a ballet slipper with wood in the toe, stilettos were no big deal for a long time. Then one day I realized it was bullshit and gave it up. In all honesty, I loved how I looked in 4” heels. I have a 35” inseam barefooted so you do the math. Being 6’2” when wearing heels and female only works well when you’re straight – Men love tall women. Not so much in the lesbian world.

Mammograms. Dare I go here? Again, a necessary evil that continues to save lives daily. But why is there not a mechanism in which to place a man’s penis so that it may be squeezed mercilessly in between two x-ray plates, just so we can take a little look see?

Cellulite and woman have more layers of fat. WTF is up with that. It isn’t enough that we shave, trim, bleed, bear the children, have stretch marks, wear bras and high-heels and suffer with the discomfort of mammograms --- now we have to exist each day knowing that cellulite is our uninvited guest if we aren’t perfect eaters who work out endlessly? Nice. The perfect reward.

PMS. Good Gawd… PMS. Talk about the Gods thinking they have a sense of humor. You take a woman who has or is experiencing items 1-8 on a daily basis and add in PMS. Be afraid people. Be very afraid. The sad thing is that when PMS takes hold, it isn’t as though we don’t know it’s coming. It’s starts with the salt/sugar/salt/sugar craving which you satisfy knowing that if you don’t - someone might die. Then you add in the tears that creep up on you if for no other reason than you’ve eaten too much salt and sugar and now you feel like a pig.

As though the rest isn’t enough, was PMS really necessary for chrissake?

These are just some of the things I find myself pondering today. I was riding up in the elevator at work with Ms Karma earlier while blathering my fit o’ rage about such pointless dribble and had a stranger who works on a different floor giggling her butt off. A blog was born. Of course it helps to have Ms Karma (my fellow sufferer in womanhood) perpetuating my rage.

In all seriousness, I love being a woman… I wouldn’t change a thing. I love putting on my makeup every morning; I love that I gave birth to a beautiful, smart, funny little girl who adores me; I love that each woman’s body is different – each a work of art. I just find it amazing what we get used to and the shit we have to do just to be us.

For those men who are married to women (Tuna Man, Charlie and Hot Momma's Mister come to mind), go out, right now, and buy the biggest freakin’ bouquet of flowers you can find and tell your woman thank you.

Tuesday, December 14, 2004

5% Sister Friend

In Diomedes Strikes Again, I reference Diomedes as being 5% Sister-Friend. My good friend Brown Eyes has requested that I share how that came to be. This, too, will affirm the way Diomedes’ mind works. I hope you find it as intriguing as I do.

Once upon a time, there was a lesbian named Auburn Pisces who lived in Portland, Oregon. She was loved by many. Auburn Pisces is outgoing, loves to laugh, and enjoys horsing around and spending time with good friends. She is very protective of those with whom she is close. They say she has ovaries big enough to clank simply because she speaks the truth and, at times, seems fearless in her approach. More often than not (zip it, Fairy Godmother), the instant a thought lands on one of Auburn Pisces’ brain cells, it passes through her lips. Uncensored.

This is true of her humor as well. In as much as AP is a femme, she has been known to drop a few jaws at her high-spirited drollery.

Auburn Pisces refers to her closest female friends as Sister or Sister-Friend. It is indicative of the bond she feels toward the women in her life.

One day while getting on an elevator at work, Auburn Pisces and Ms Karma were joking around in their usual fashion. The conversation turned piggish very quickly. It just so happened that Diomedes was boarding the same elevator, at which point AP quickly apologized explaining to Diomedes that she has 10 brothers (AP is one of 14 children) and humor such as that which she had spoken, though it seems crass to most, was really no big deal in her world.

(Translation: dear gawd please don’t think I am a pig just because I made a joke like one.) Though Auburn Pisces would like to give off the appearance she’s 10 feet tall and bulletproof, some opinions do matter to her to her tender heart.

Diomedes having the brilliant mind that he does proceeded through a portion of his day apparently contemplating what AP had said to him… (I say “a portion of his day” when in fact what it probably amounted to was five or ten minutes!) ...10 brothers. Sister-Friend. Piggish comments.

Later that day, Diomedes shared with Auburn Pisces the algebraic calculations of his brainstorm regarding Sister-Friend percentages. Below is a copy of the actual email he sent to AP. And, this is how Diomedes became an Honorary Sister Friend:


Ok, here goes.

You said that you were "mostly pig" since you have ten brothers. The assumptions I have made are myriad --

1. That which is not pig is sister-friend -- there is nothing else.
2. All women are 100% sister-friend to begin with, while men are 100% pig to begin with.
3. Having sisters does not make a woman more of a sister-friend, nor brothers a man more piggish.

Keeping these assumptions in mind, I then turn to the idea of "mostly pig."
At a minimum, "mostly pig" means that it is an infinitesimal degree above 50%; hence I'll call the minimum limit 50% even. Going back to assumptions 1 and 2, this also means that you are less than 50% sister-friend.

My guess is that since you referred to your brothers collectively, that each of them contributes equally to your PQ (pig quotient). Hence, I would assume each brother contributes at least 5%, since that is minimum 50% divided ten ways. This is a large assumption, because it would mean a woman with 20 brothers would be 100% pig, so I would suggest that there is something akin to relativistic behavior as you approach the upper reaches of the opposite gender's percentiles. But let us suppose that these figures are accurate for the smaller domain with which we are working.

I have one sister, hence, assuming the same behavior and also that of assumptions 1 and 2, it follows that I am at least 5% sister-friend -- perhaps more, depending on how porcine you are. Assumptions 1 and 2 actually could mean that if each brother contributes 9.5% to your piggishness, and you are 95% pig, this would make me 9.5% sister-friend, meaning that I would actually be more of a sister-friend than you, but I think this somewhat unlikely. See the above paragraph. I think the relationship may be more hyperbolic, and I will keep you posted on the latest developments in gender algebra.

Rock on, sister!

Friday, December 10, 2004

Diomedes Strikes Again

Warning: This blog may be offensive to those with a pure heart. Read at your own risk!!!

I work with a particular guy that, at a glance, appears to be one of the quietest people you'll ever meet. When speaking with him, you'll find he speaks somewhat under his breath. He's a part-time employee as he is completing a degree, so I only have the pleasure of his anecdotes half the day. He is a highly intelligent man who ordinarily keeps most opinions to himself. It would appear he finds a lot of people and conversation insipid. He is very well read and finds most modern creative writing masturbatory. He has a rapier wit and I find him an amazing source of entertainment...when he's pissed.

He and I communicate daily. It's not uncommon for me to inquire as to his state of mind. I do this because I know if he's having a bit of a pissy day, I will receive the best comedy possible.

Diomedes... Good morning, sunshine
Auburn Pisces... good morning.
Auburn Pisces... how are you this a.m
Diomedes... I'm pissed off
Auburn Pisces... yeah!
Auburn Pisces... why for?
Diomedes... I don't care
Auburn Pisces... right on! me either.
Diomedes... Could it be the little cocksnot kid on the bus listening to his walkman loud enough that it could be heard outside the bus?
Diomedes... Or maybe it's pent-up post-final exam rage?
Diomedes... These things are a mystery even to me
Auburn Pisces... it's margarita time buddy!
Diomedes... As soon as I figure out which carrot fucker has cheesed me off.... bad things will happen
Auburn Pisces... i know who the cheese head motherfucker is that pissed in my wheaties. her name is ...
Diomedes... Well up hers with a garbage truck!
Diomedes... Fucker!
Auburn Pisces... no shit.
Auburn Pisces... she's being an asshole.
Auburn Pisces... jerkoff.
Diomedes... Damn, after reading your blog, she really pisses me off
Auburn Pisces... yeah, well there's more. while we were together, we had ...(can't disclose this story publicly, sorry) ...because she moved on so quickly the [bleeeeeep], and I felt hurt because she references how (can't disclose this either) so fuck them both.
Diomedes... What the hell?
Diomedes... Someone should take away her vagina license
Diomedes... That's just irresponsible
Diomedes... God, people are such fucks!
Diomedes... Macaroni and cheese shouldn't come in a box!
Diomedes... Shock therapy is a bad idea!
Diomedes... The world is upside down.
Auburn Pisces... i agree. i told her if she wants to (censored) that's fine but to stop referencing our relationship like it was unsatisfying and prevented her from being herself. when i know differently.
Auburn Pisces... i wish i could pick her up by her ankles and smack her against the desk like a barbie doll. and yes, her vagina license needs to be revoked.
Diomedes... Yeah, we should call the OVA
Diomedes... And get it revoked
Auburn Pisces... ova? office of vagina administration?!!!
Auburn Pisces... LOLOLOLOL
Diomedes... Yeah, I almost took a job being a vagina inspector with them
Diomedes... But they said I was too much woman for the job -- it'd interfere with my judgement
Auburn Pisces... that's because your 5% Sister Friend.
Auburn Pisces... no surprise they turned you down.
Diomedes... Besides, I don't know if I could sit behind a desk issuing licenses and looking at c**ts all day
Diomedes... It's much better to look at the clothy walls of my cube
Auburn Pisces... today, i agree with your assessment of the cube walls.
Diomedes... Why is that? You're usually so down on the cubes
Auburn Pisces... today, i'm down on the c**ts
Diomedes... Well, I can understand that
Diomedes... I came to an interesting realization about my cubicle
Diomedes... I thought -- what is the central metaphor of the office
Diomedes... The central metaphor of the office is the storage and retrieval of information
Diomedes... ... in other words, the central metaphor of the office is filing
Diomedes... Filing works by dividing stuff into categories, then ordering them, and dividing them into sub-categories and sub-sub-categories and so on
Diomedes... I came to realize that this metaphor extends quite nicely to the cubicle
Diomedes... In other words, you and I have been filed
Diomedes... I'm not sure how I feel about that
Diomedes... Actually I do know how I feel: I don't care!
Diomedes... What is it compared to the crime against humanity that is modern country music?
Diomedes... I also hate upscale yuppie restaurants that people just go to be seen at
Auburn Pisces... filed. shit...
Diomedes... What a fantastic waste of time!
Diomedes... I could bitch at you all day long!
Diomedes... You can't get a good pair of shoes anymore! What the fuck?
Diomedes... The Web is stupid! Corn dogs suck!
Diomedes... My rage waxeth and I grow inarticulate and ham-fisted!
Diomedes... The people who thought up diamond rings should be rounded up and shot!
Diomedes... The people who thought up class rings may live, but must give me an arm in tribute.
Diomedes... Since I am feeling benevolent, they may choose which arm
Diomedes... Modern poetry is ghastly
Diomedes... I see it spattered all about the bus on my bus ride in
Diomedes... Poets write about feelings and images, and it's hard to believe the feelings and images of the day are so pedestrian
Diomedes... Fuck you bus poets! You guys suck at poetry! Go back to cooking fries I won't eat!
Diomedes... I bet they just want to call themselves 'writers' so they can get the kind of girl who thinks she's smart!
Diomedes... What a fucking racket!
Diomedes... They should masturbate somewhere else, those no-talent hacks! Bus poets!
Diomedes... Me and my impotent little rage
Diomedes... Being an angry little man was enough for to conquer nations, once upon a time
Diomedes... Empires forged, wars fought and won... these were the workings of the angry little man whose anger was contagious
Diomedes... What a load of bullshit I'm spouting! This is some second rate invective to be sure!
Diomedes... I must be getting soft! Society is trying to make amends with pizza and noodles and computer science! I'm losing my edge!
Diomedes... Those hemmhroids! How dare they coddle me!
Auburn Pisces... you're killing me today. i love it when you're outraged... but i am curious about the bad bus poetry... specifically like what? was it ON the bus?
Diomedes... They post it on the inside of the bus
Diomedes... Up across the top where ads are usually kept
Auburn Pisces... can i write about you in my blog?
Diomedes... It's a free country
Auburn Pisces... today's rage will be good for a giggle... you're on top of your pissy game today.
Diomedes... I don't know, call me anything! Pretend you're writing a book or something!
Diomedes... This is boring
Auburn Pisces... I know.
Diomedes... I'm done with my work and want to go do other work
Auburn Pisces... well, if you're not going to give me any input on a name, I'll get with Ms Karma and we'll come up with something appropriate.
Auburn Pisces... it's settled Diomedes it is!

It Takes All Kinds..

Human relationships are so complex. No matter how hard you try to keep it simple, it seems the opposite happens.

There are those in your life with whom laughter and the freedom to love comes easily. It is with these people that there is a level of acceptance about who you are, what you are, your genetic make-up. Acceptance just *is*.

It doesn’t matter if you’re moody, because they have the ability to pull you out of it without even trying. You can be a crying mess about things that later seem silly and these types of friends don’t mind. A true friend will agree with you that hindsight usually sucks.

These people accept it when you tell them you are in a funk, crabby, and generally pissed off and don’t know why. They don’t overanalyze and try to fix you. They just accept what *is* knowing that you will likely snap out of it when you’re ready. They are able to exist in the same space with you without letting it affect them. And in these particular instances if you need to have the shit slapped out of you, they do it – with love and kindness and laughing with you as you reel from the sting.

People like this don’t judge you. You can speak of a person or situation that you know you need to cut loose, or of a person you should have no faith in but keep believing in regardless of the emotional cost. You can speak of how someone still holds a piece of your heart when they probably shouldn’t. True friends will understand and be there to pick you up each time you stumble.

I try to surround myself with people I have full and complete faith in. These are the handful of people in my life that I refer to as “best friends.” They are exactly like those I’ve mentioned above. I can count these people that I trust implicitly, on one hand (okay, one and a half). They are the people that know the real me - the whole story – and they love me anyway!!

Some are the local peeps (you know who you are) and oddly enough the others are spread out. One is in southwest Washington, another further north in Olytown, another is in Virginia Beach, another in San Diego. They are, however, people with whom I can pick up the phone and feel like I just spoke to them yesterday. Somehow we always know what the other one needs.

These people in my life, both near and far, help recharge my batteries.

Recharging my batteries is often times what I need to deal with the other type of people… those that just don’t get it. These people are the type you want to identify early, in order to limit your exposure.

These are the people who are oblivious to the feelings of others. They don’t realize their selfishness knows no bounds. Whoever they are speaking to, they twist the truth to accommodate their own needs. They are so wrapped up in their own insignificance they don’t realize no one is paying attention. These are the people who have to over-inflate themselves to make themselves feel good. They don’t believe (though they would never admit it) people will accept them for who they are.

These types of people are incapable of keeping it simple. They play blame games and don’t take accountability for their own actions. They believe there are varying shades to the truth. Truth is truth people, figure it out!

We need to learn to say no to these people, even if it’s just to ourselves. Why is this process of saying no so difficult? Why do people like us try to believe so badly in people like them? It is foolish to have faith that the whole world will do the right thing. Yet I keep believing and trying. I keep putting my heart out there and reaching out only to be reminded people like the latter are incapable of changing.

It’s the one piece of advice my Mom gave me in my lifetime. While hanging clothes on the line at our house in El Cajon, CA at the age of 16: “You want to have faith in the whole world that they’ll do the right thing and you are going to get hurt over and over again if you don’t learn to take care of yourself. Don’t let the same snake bite you twice.”

The human spirit is a beautiful thing. It can endure and overcome so much. Everyone, at one time or another, has been afraid, apprehensive or uncertain. Those with depth will look inside themselves in search of their own truth. Unfortunately, the people that look inside for answers aren’t always necessarily the people who need to do so.

Some people seem heartless, some people ARE heartless, and some of us have enough heart to share with others. We don’t like being hurt any more than anyone else, but we will continue to give love and get hurt with the hope that on some level, we’ve made a difference in someone’s life.

Thursday, December 09, 2004

It's The Handsome Prince's Fault

At a small gathering o' four yesterday evening (THP, Hot Toddy, Ms Karma and myself), Hot Toddy and I decided that The Handsome Prince is mean to us because he doesn't have a cute brother for HTTO to date. Nor does he have a sister that I can date.

Essentially, it's THP's fault Toddy and I are single..

'Nuff said about that!

Wednesday, December 08, 2004

Miniature Vortex Virgin No More

Today's blog will be about a little bit of everything..which, in turn, could turn out to be a blog about nothing. I guess we'll see.

Yesterday evening I received a call from The Handsome Prince. He was heading to C.C. Slaughter's and asked if I would join him. He mentioned he had also tried to reach Hot Toddy to no avail. Personally, I knew Hot Toddy was entertaining a certain Pony in The Vortex and probably wouldn't be taking any calls.

I was amidst trying to get dinner on the table for a certain Aries I know and love. You may (or may not) know the drill. It's the what's-for-dinner question every night at which point I take a breath and prepare myself for the struggle that ensues. "I'm baking chicken." "Chicken. . . oh maaan. Why do we have to eat chicken?" "Because we're hungry?" "Mahhhhm, that's not what I mean and you know it." "Chicken is good." "No it's not. Why can't I have McDonalds?" "McDonalds, good gawd, you can't eat McDonalds every night." (c'mon, Mom - you've got to do better than that). "I'll bet I can eat McDonalds every night." "Auburn Aries, it wouldn't be good for you." "Who cares, tonight, chicken is yucky."

Moving on.

We ate dinner (I guess when you compare eating chicken Mom made against eating, say, NOTHING, chicken isn't so bad), and then I called AAries' Fairy Godmother to see if she was up for a little visit while I head off to have
a good time a serious talk with THP. Seemed like a plan to me. And, as usual, Fairy Godmother didn't bat an eye. She is so good to my daughter. I am blessed to have her in our lives. Aries loves spending time with her because they are so close.

I was greeted with a big smile from THP. We sat and talked for a bit and resolved some "grown up" things. Or maybe I made matters worse...hmm... in any case, we did it over a couple of drinks and in an adult (pornographic) atmosphere. Good talks are done best without being asked where ones' Barbie is at or if the latest piece of artwork is pretty. I only had about an hour so the visit was somewhat brief.

The Math Whiz joined us and the three of us left. I was going to give the boys a ride home once I had picked up Auburn Aries. Funny thing is regardless of how close Aries is to her Fairy Godmother, the minute she found out THP and The Math Whiz were in the car, she was out the door like a shot.

Each one of the boys holds a special place in Aries' heart for very different reasons. The Math Whiz does because he has what she calls "the coolest dog EVER." In Aries' eyes, we are the official backup dogsitters in the event The Math Whiz needs to run an errand -- or gets sick of the dog. Whichever comes first.

THP, on the other hand, engages Auburn Aries on a level that is so lighthearted and fun that she becomes transfixed on every word he speaks and she works especially hard to make him laugh. She can't get close enough to people like THP or Hot Toddy. It doesn't matter to them that she is almost eight years old and has the potential to be a pain in the butt. She is an extension of me and that's what matters.

As we headed toward The Vortex, Aries just chattered away. The Math Whiz engaged her in conversation much the same way her Fairy Godmother does (both being Virgos). He's lighthearted with her but logical and Aries is a strong enough personality to take him on.

As we pulled in front of the house, we noticed Pony's truck which would mean Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven was still up and The Vortex was open. I no sooner finished the question, "Do you want to see the Vortex and say hi to Tod---" before Aries was out of the car and crowding THP at the door to get inside.

Aries had never been at The House before nor had she ever seen The Vortex though she knew it existed. She walked in and headed straight for it as though there was a trail of Maker's Mark bottles to guide her there. I managed to get in front of her and take her by the hand. I opened The Vortex door and caught Toddy and Pony completely off guard. I suspect I was the last person they expected to see at 10 p.m. on a Tuesday night. Once I had their full attention, I stepped through the door presenting Auburn Aries.

They were as excited to see her and she was them. All she could do was laugh and give hugs. She was glowing with excitement. The energy was so fantastic. I stood and watched my daughter interact, once again, with these men who have become so important in her little life. I guess when you're Mom is a lesbian the number of men that are actually around diminishes greatly. Until the last few months for AAries. She has found comedic relief in The Boys and cannot stop talking about them.

While I attempted conversation with Hot Toddy and Pony, I watched as The Handsome Prince and AAries fed off each other. He had her laughing so hard. She was absolutely comfortable in her own skin. There was no issue of being taller; no issue of weight; no concerns someone wouldn't like her. The horsed around back and forth and THP was laughing every bit as often and as hard as Auburn Aries.

Then it started. It was as though Aries was on a stage. She began to dance around. She was laughing at her own comedy. She was out of control. "Wait, wait" she shouted as she placed one hand in front of her as though holding a pair of reigns - She began to chasse' around The Vortex pretending to be a horse while she smacked her little bottom with her other hand, all the while laughing uncontrollably.

When she was done with that maneuver, she made faces.

Once the faces faded away, she reached over and pretended to twang my bra straps through my shirt like a standup bass, singing a local country station 99.5 The Wolf's the morning theme song, "Mike and Amy, in the mornin', in the mornin'" plucking each time she said mornin and on the off beat. All we could do was laugh.

Have you ever seen Charlie's Angel's? The first one? Where Cameron Diaz is in her bedroom wearing Underoo's doing little circles with her butt???? That was my daughter. Wiggling her butt and laughing with all of her might. It was incredible.

Hot Toddy got ahold of himself long enough to go inside and reappear with some toys he had been saving for her as a gift. She clutched them to her chest and was so excited. She threw her arms around his neck, thanked him and told him she loved him. He probably had some idea of how excited she would be but I never saw it coming so it moved me. Here are these men, "My Boys," who have touched my life in such a way that it's only enhanced who I am as a human being, and they've embraced my daughter the same way.

It was 30 minutes in The Vortex that I will never forget.

I finally managed to get Auburn Aries out of The House and home. She was so excited I put her in bed with me to make sure she would get to sleep. She put her new toys on the night stand so they'd be there when she woke up. And rather than hear her say "Morning Mommy" her first words were, "Are we going back to The Vortex tonight?"

Hmm.. if I had a nickel for everytime I've wondered that myself!

Friday, December 03, 2004

Airport Conversation with Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven

Well, what the hell?! It's Friday. You're supposed to cruise through Fridays enjoying a laugh, listening to music while you work (or while you're AT work, rather), surfing the web as needed, you know the game. Today is the day o' reward for putting up with people's crap and deadlines and stress all week. We've all woven our fabric of lies with regard to what we've done all week. But Noooooo. Not for Auburn Pisces. Not today. I mean, for cryin' in the night people -- it's 11:15 and I have been slammed since I got here this morning. Working. Not enjoying my Friday the way I should be, but head down, fingers flying (and no, I don't mean like that).

I drove in listening to a comedy CD my friend gave me. I was laughing my ass off in the car as I drove. Kathleen Madigan in the best comedian EVER! I couldn't wait to get here and get my fingers on the keys...not for the company's gain but for my own selfish gain - blogging.

My friends are missing today. Ms Karma took a couple of days off and Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven...well, he's headed to NYC for the free whiskey to meet all of the friends he's made blogging. If it weren't for the phone call at 6 a.m. this morning from HTTO, I'd really be jonesing.

HT: "I'm at the airport. I'm all checked in. It went quickly and I'm just having a smoke before go through security."

AP: "Well, you're going to have a kick-ass day, Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven. Everything will be fine."

HT: "I'm going to stop and get money from the ATM before I get on the plane. Except this time, I'll remember to get my ATM card out of the machine (see #2 and my personal favorite #7).

AP: laughs

HT: "Oh, and I'm not wearing a belt. That'll help."

AP: "Help what? Having on easy access pants doesn't mean you can let the Pilot blow you before you get to your seat."

HT: laughs. "No, it's so when I go through security I won't set off the alarm and have to remove my belt everytime. Only problem is I'll be walking through airports all across the country with droopy pants."

AP: "Well, doesn't much matter. There'll be some hot, gay flight attendant on board that's going to flirt with you all the way to Minneapolis anyway."

HT: "If there's a God!"

AP: "I'm gonna miss hanging with you this weekend, but have a great time and tell everyone I said hello. "

HT: "I will. You know you can always call The Handsome Prince and the Math Whiz and hang out with them again while I'm gone."

AP: "Yeah, but it's just not the same."

HT: laughs, pauses. "What are you talking about?! It's EXACTLY the same!!"

AP: laughs, "You're right, what was I thinking."

HT: "So you'll pick me up at the airport on Monday and we'll hang in The Vortex and I'll tell you all about my trip, right?"

AP: "Absolutely. When do you get into Minneapolis?"

HT: "Around noon."

AP: "Do you have a book to read on the flight?"

HT: "Yes, Mom, I do."

AP: "Good gawd, I did sound just like your Mom!"

So, in summary here is my advice for Hot Toddy on his adventure:

1. If hot flight attendants flirt with you and offer you free drinks, take them. (not that this needed saying, but..)

2. If the Pilot gives you a quick wink as you board the plane, interpret that as his noticing your belt is missing and he's interested in giving you a tour of the cock...pit.

3. Never refer to the woman who asks if you have a book to read on the flight as Mom...especially when you were her brother and father in past lives...that's just gross.

4. If opportunity presents itself in NY, trust your instincts.

5. If there's an awesome lesbian blogger looking for someone on the "left coast" who's exciting to hang with and has a big heart, tell her how to get to my house.

6. Drunk dial messages will be left to go to voice mail so that I may blog about them next week.

7. Coming home rested and refreshed will not be tolerated. You need to come home to recuperate and detox.

8. Lamb tastes like sweet, innocent victim...Don't go there on this trip.

9. You needn't worry about your ego being "smashed into a million pieces" while in NY so there's no need to ram your head into a concrete pillar like you tried to do here this week.

10. I'm sure the wood elf will still be here when you return.

Tuesday, November 30, 2004

Just Blow Your Nose in the Pool

Every Monday evening is swim class for Auburn Aries. As we know from my post last week, she struggled with the first class. Yesterday morning as we were hussling around the house trying to get out the door to start our week, we passed each other in the hallway:

AP: "So, tonight at swim class..."

AA: (with an "I was so ridiculous" tone in her voice) "I know, I know... Tonight at swim class I won't have to sit on the side of the pool crying for 10 minutes before I can get in."

AP: "That wasn't what I was going to say, but I'm proud of you for saying that..."

I breathed a sigh of relief and amazement as I stopped and watched her walk into the livingroom. It was good to know the bigness of the lessons had diminished; and it was remarkable that she had processed the events of last week and drawn her own conclusion. She didn't need to be afraid. I didn't finish my conversation with her - I found myself preoccupied with the thought that I do, indeed, try to do too much for her. The pride she exuded by making that statement made her having to experience the fear seem worth it, and she had gotten there on her own.

In this particular swim curriculum, they have specific skills they are taught and must demonstrate before moving up to the next level. There are levels one through ten. Level ten gets you an invitation to join the swim team.

She didn't hesitate to get into the pool last night. She was cautious but not paralyzed by fear of the unknown. She had to perform 10 consecutive relaxed bobs, i.e., take a breath, go under the water exhaling, come up for more air, back under the water and so on. She worked with the instructor and had beautiful form. She was very fluid. It was obvious that she has extremely high expectations of herself. She performed each one to perfection...all five of them...

She started over again five. five. five. Crap. I could feel her frustration beginning to build and I couldn't even see her face. I lowered my book (the one I pretend to read so she won't know I'm watching). I felt my heart melt onto the floor. 'Come on baby, you can do it...' I couldn't have sent her stronger vibes if I had wrapped them in a box with a bow and handed them to her.

She turned and looked at me with alligator tears in her eyes. "I can't do it." I mouthed to her "You can do it." "No I can't." Then she asked me to come to her. Believe it or not, my kid actually wanted me to bring her a the pool. Now, please understand that I'm no proponent of doing the nose thing in the pool. In fact, the thought of it happening naturally when you swim makes me gag and I have no gag reflex! But bringing her a Kleenex. Good Christ...could she be a bigger girlie girl!!!! This was a talk we hadn't had. These are the things in life you don't realize you have to explain to your child.

"Now, honey, when you swim, your nose gets snotty. It's normal... Usually you don't notice it because your exhaling through your nose when you swim. BUT, in the event you start crying in the pool like a big sissy find it's bothering you just...." You get my point.

I approached her reluctantly and as coincidence would have it, had a Kleenex in my pocket. I knelt down and sheepishly handed it to her. We conversed about the "I can't" mentality versus "I can." I pointed out to her the we are of the Auburns and we can do anything. I made up some excuse about getting in trouble if I interrupted lessons and headed back to the bleachers. I'm quickly realizing those damn bleachers are not my friend.

I picked up my book and wiped the sweat of irritation from my forehead, trying desperately not to cry from pure frustration myself. I don't want her to be afraid. I thought any child of mine would be fearless and conquering. I don't recall being afraid of so many things as a child. I'm certain I was fearless and conquering! (I have no parents alive to ask so you're stuck with my interpretation of when I grew up). I opened my book on Celtic magick and promised myself I would actually read it.

The next time I looked up, the instructor was knelt down at the side of the pool counting. There was my little girl. Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten. "Congratulations Auburn Aries, you passed!" Before the instructor could reach out to high-five the new Level Two Swimmer, she turned to me beaming with smiles, wiping away water from her drenched little face screaming, "Mommy, I did it, I did it!!!" My eyes swelled with tears. "Good job, Baby!" She held up her fingers in a peace-sign... "I'm in Level 2."

How is it possible that as a parent you can go from wanting to freaking tear out your hair in patches to trying to swallow past the lump in your throat when your child succeeds? Parenting is the hardest job in the world. It's also the most rewarding.

All of the swimmers gather after their lessons and cheer for the kids who advance. AAries got a gold sticker to put on her Certificate proving she had graduated to the next level. I had to laugh though when Auburn Aries told me later how she "was the only one in her class to move up." And how she was so disappointed when she couldn't get past five then "like magic" she did all ten.

One thing I do know... next Monday...things won't be any different, I'll still want to tear my hair out in patches and probably still cry every time she succeeds. I guess we'll just stumble through it together.

Monday, November 29, 2004

Put a Little Love in Your Hole

Over the course of the last few months, I have spent a great deal of time trying to figure out the "why's." I have experienced that ache you get in your stomach and your heart when you end a relationship. That feeling sucks. I find existing with that type of melancholy ache isn't so bad if it's because it "didn't work out." That healing process is much different than the "why did this person do this" type of discomfort.

There are those (thank you Therapist) who have said my "partner picker" is broken. I somehow always seem to fall for the wrong person. What I have found to be true is that I never knew they were the wrong person because in some cases they ended up being fibbers (to put it politely). Being lied to is the most disturbing feeling I have ever experienced. There doesn't seem to be enough processing that makes it go away. A lie is a lie and once spoken always exists inside of you wrapped in betrayal - known to those who spoke it and felt by those who've loved them.

If you were to ask people close to me, they will tell you I am honest to a fault. Most people who know me know not to ask the question unless they want to hear the answer. It's not mean honesty. It's just honesty. It's honesty they know they can trust. I like being this way. I love that it's part of my make-up.

Being this way, however, has its downside. For instance, when someone you care about is dishonest with you, it can be devastating and it's hard to dismiss. I have loved women who have promised the world; who have said things to me that I trusted and believed in and whose love I never questioned partially due to the fact that they touched my heart in some way no one else had. I mean, people wouldn't just *SAY* those things... would they?

Au Contraire Mon Frere

I give my heart so freely; a trait I wish I could modify. That, unfortunately, takes practice which means giving your heart a little less or more protectively each time. How many times will I have to practice this until I get good at it? Seems like high stakes if you ask me.

I have often taken full responsibility for relationship failings. Even if just to myself. I am an adult woman; I made a mistake, a bad choice; I believed someone when what they were telling me was a load of shit. Unfortunately, I didn't know it was a load of shit until after the fact. And in some cases people were very, very hurt by my actions or my part therein, which cannot be undone. I have to live with that and do. It is a bell that cannot be unrung.

In another situation, I gave my heart too freely once again. Everything felt right. She told me all of the right things. She meant it -- or at least I believed she did. It was a polyamorous relationship which is complex in and of itself. We carried on a relationship behind The Other One's (TOO) back (why did I ignore this red flag?). She said I fulfilled a need in her that TOO didn't. She said I was "the one." That she had never felt what true love was like until I came along. That I was the lady in her life and I knew my place by her side which pleased her. We spoke of our wedding day. We talked about the day TOO would be out and on her own, partnered and in love and what it would be like when "the kids" came by for dinner. We discussed where we'd live, what the house would be like, where we would retire. I called her Love and she called me Momma. She said as Daddy she's "got me." I was safe with her. She held my heart in her hands.

Fast forward to TOO leaving and me hearing from my Love the words "What? Did you think we were just going to be a happy twosome?" Ouch. After a couple more months of disappointment and heartache and realizing she was having an emotional affair with yet another woman while still living with me (and denying it vehemently - red flag, quick look the other way AuburnPisces), I packed her a bag and asked her to leave. As scary as it was, I stood up for myself, no longer a door mat.

In the past three months, I have discovered that most of what she said to me was bullshit. I know this because I am hearing from reliable sources that she's now saying the same identical things to the next woman. Almost verbatim. You hear something once, you dismiss it. You hear the same thing over and over by people you trust, you have no reason not to believe it. It must have been a lonely three weeks for her before she moved on...whatever.

Therein lie the why's. Why would she tell me those things? Why would she string my heart along like that? Why did she treat me so wonderfully for so long and then everything changed? Why is she still lying when she has no reason to? Why does she think I am so naive that I don't see right through her? She still calls me every day, several times a day. She acts as though we're still best friends just as we were before we became involved. I still want answers I am never going to get. During each phone call, I wait for her to say something...anything to set things right. I suspect I'll be waiting a long, long time. Everytime I try to forgive and/or move on, my memories choke on the lies and I feel stuck.

Then this weekend I went to The Handsome Prince's play. I joined Hot Toddy, The Math Whiz, The Executive and The Rugby Guy. Afterward we went to CC Slaughters and talked and laughed and drank. Our friend Brown Eyes joined us. I was surrounded by wonderful people who ARE honest and who DO care. Whenever I spend time with the Yum Yum Brotherhood, KP, Ms Karma, Brown Eyes or Oak Point Man, I am embraced with their love.

On Sunday, I spent time with Hot Toddy in the Un-Toaster Oven, i.e., The Vortex during 36 degree weather. Wrapped in blankets and drinking Margaritas and Vodka Cranberries, respectively, we talked for hours. Joined by The Handsome Prince, I sat looking at these two men who mean so much to me. I value their friendship (and The Math Whiz) so much. I left their house realizing that asking myself the "why's" was pointless. Especially when you consider how blessed I am to have all of these special people in my life who are equal when it comes to being decent and honest and loving.

I felt the hole inside of me starting to heal when I switched the focus from what was (or what wasn't, in this case) to what is, deciding only to surround myself with those I can trust with my heart. Oddly enough, right now, most of those people are gay men or straight men or women like Ms Karma, KP or Oak Point Man. I will take this time to heal my heart and fix my "partner picker" and pray to the Goddesses that the next time I find love, it will be true and honest just like the love I receive from my friends who truly care about me.

That closed door will stayed closed and I will no longer look back.

As a side note, I have to credit Hot Toddy for the title of this blog (attention whore that he is, I couldn't miss giving him credit - especially since it made me laugh until I cried).

Sunday, November 28, 2004

Coastal Anecdotes

Last week I took Auburn Aries to the coast. Her Dad can be such an ass, "What am I supposed to do with her on Thanksgiving? Why do I have to have her?" In light of the fact that she heard him say these things (no wonder she has self-esteem issues), I decided to take her away and let her be a kid. It would be an adventure.

We headed to the coast and stayed in a rental house in a small, sleepy coastal town devoid of malls and shopping centers. Our goal was to just hang together. We were going to walk the beach, cook fun dinners, eat ice cream, gather sand dollars, play games, read books and watch movies. It would be perfect.

And it was.

There were some things Auburn Aries said, however, that were too rich not to share.

Anecdote #1:
Tuesday morning as soon as we awoke, AAries wanted to go for a walk on the beach. We bundled up and headed out. We were on the beach that morning around three hours and talked about a multitude of things.

AAries: "I don't think it's fair we don't get to live here."

APisces: "I don't think so either. I love it here."

AA: "We need to sell our house and move to the beach. We could ask the lady (she's referring to the vacation rental agent) where there's one for sale and tell her we'll need a couple of weeks to get our stuff and then move there."

AP: "What will I do for money when we live here?"

AA: "You could work at a grocery store. I hear those people make a lot of money. (insert an "are you kidding me" look from Mom) No, I'm serious. Like an outlet store or something. We'll be fine. I promise."

Anecdote #2:
A little later in our walk...

AP: (somewhat muttering under my breath) "Mom needs to figure out her budget when we get home."

AA: "What's that?"

AP: "It's where I write down how much everything costs and see how much money is left."

AA: (insert exasperated tone) "Well, yell my name when you have $100 left. I'll be layin' on my bed doin' nothin'."

Anecdote #3:
While sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast and watching the ocean, Auburn Aries pushes my cup of Chai closer to me. I glanced down and saw what looked like a fuzz on the back of her finger.

AP: "Auburn Aries, there's a fuzz on the back of your finger."

AA: She glances down and smugly says, "No there's not. There's Elmer's Glue and some chocolate, but no fuzz."

Anecdote #4:
While at dinner on our last night...

AP: "How much ice cream is left in your little carton? A little less than half?"

AA: "A little more than less."

In as much as I am sure many of you may not have children, I will try to lay off the Auburn Aries stories for a bit. I have yet to get into the groove of blogging everyday and Auburn Aries has been center stage lately.

Perhaps tomorrow I will write about how damn cute The Handsome Prince is in drag. His play "Pageant" was great. I don't know when I've laughed so much.

Wednesday, November 17, 2004

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Watching from the Bleachers

On Monday night, Auburn Aries started swim lessons. It was the direct result of her being stuck in the shallow end of a pool while her other friends were jumping off the diving board and splashing around in the deep end. When I picked her up that day, I could see in her eyes her heart was breaking. I had been talking about getting her swim lessons for months. We got busy with all things unimportant and time slipped by.

Auburn Aries is in the throes of a self-esteem issue. Tough stuff for a seven year old. Hot Toddy wrote about my little girls' dilemma and all the Toaster Oven family was very supportive. Reading the comments everyone left that day, helped me find peace.

While meeting with the psychic lady (PL) over the weekend, I showed her (once again) a picture of Auburn Aries. Again she reminded me that AAries is strong-willed, determined, funny. Once again she reminded me that because of her stubborn nature and strong mind, I had to practice tough love with her or I was going to have a problem on my hands somewhere down the road. Boundaries. That's what I need...good, strong, non-negotiable boundaries. Why did I think being a parent was going to be just as easy as raising and training the best dog on the planet? How is it possible I had forgotten the reason the dog was so well-behaved is because he couldn't talk back?! No talking back...mental note to develop a mind of their own. Crap.

In addition to these already-shared words, PL also confirmed AAries has a self-esteem issue. Let me back up for a quick moment and tell you about Auburn Aries... She is seven and a half years old and she's over 4'7" tall. Her hair is very red. Not fire-fuzz orange, but a rich red with tons of natural highlights. Her Dad is scandanavian and she looks just like him. She's fair-skinned and has just a small, light dusting of freckles across her nose. Her eyes are green. She is, to me, the most beautiful little girl in the world. I tell her often how lucky I am that her spirit was put into her body and given to me. I tell her that I am the luckiest Mom EVER. She is very smart, very funny, loves to horse around, she's creative, artistic, she has a big heart and surprises me daily with what comes out of her mouth. I have never been more in love with anyone in my life, like I am with my little girl.

You can imagine the sound of my heart hitting the floor when PL confirmed that which I had already suspected. PL told me that AAries doesn't like being taller than everyone in her class (as was I in school); that AAries doesn't like her red hair (I was the only red-head in my elementary school in San Diego, so I know her pain) - yet AAries can't go anywhere that she isn't approached by strangers and told how beautiful her hair is or how they would love to have her color hair. PL told me that AAries doesn't like the extra weight that's hanging off her body (she's a bit chubby right now). She said that AAries has abandonment issues stemming from the divorce (lovely, divorced parents and a gay Mom - no baggage there). She told me to get her a child psychologist to help her with these things. That type of help needed to come from someone other than me.

I am guilty of loving too much when it comes to Auburn Aries. We are together constantly, laugh at the drop of a hat and feed off each other just for the giggle. We are content in each others' presence.

Monday night at swim class I saw for myself that I need to let go a little. As much as it makes my heart hurt, I have to let her do more for herself. As she stood, apprehensive to remove her towel from around her body, I had to remind her she was beautiful and that no two people look just a like and that I was built just like her when I was a kid and she didn't need to worry. Off came the towel. I watched as the new students headed for the shallow end of the pool to begin their lesson. I watched as my daughter sat on the side of the pool, frozen, afraid to jump into the water. The flood of emotion was hard to distinguish. Angry because she was being a "sissy." Guilty because I don't get her out more, if even to lessen the fear of adventure. Sad because I know she wanted in the water more than anything.

At one point she reached out with both arms with "pick me up Mommie" tears in her eyes. I sat there on the bleachers poolside, crushed. "No" I mouthed to her. "You can do it." I begged the Goddesses to help her. To give her strength to find her way. Finally, the owner of the Swim America program got into the water and helped her. Instantly, she was okay. Before I knew it she was yelling "Mom, look at me!" "Good job, Baby!" I responded with tears in my eyes. I was so proud of her.

As parents we don't ever mean to disable our children by loving them too much. We only want the best for them. Sometimes giving them the best means giving them what's hardest for you to give which often times means not *everything*. She apologized to me for being afraid to get into the water and for being afraid. I reminded her she didn't need to say she was sorry to me. The important thing was that she finally got into the pool and it didn't matter how long it took. What I meant to say and couldn't was, "It's not your fault, Little One. Everything will be okay."

I think I'll just sit here on the bleachers for a while and let her find her way. I'll always be here ready to catch her if she falls.

Tuesday, November 16, 2004

Stop Cutting Off Your Fingers!!

My friend, Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven, laughs at my intuitive powers. Because of my ability to "feel" him, he often jokes with me by sending me a chat saying he's in his cube cutting off a finger and asks me if I can feel it. I am able to tell when he feels lost, distracted, hurt, happy, and yes...drunk. And no, I'm not like Elliot in ET who takes on intoxication as ET guzzles down a six pack. In this particular example, it's more about his state of mind.

With Hot Toddy it's been quite an awakening. I knew him long before he knew me as his humorous reputation preceded him. He thought I sat at home with my cats and lived an existence of solitude. I have no cats and only choose solitude when I want or need it. We launched an immediate friendship. He accepted me and my lifestyle and I understood him early on in ways he didn't even know I did.

On Saturday I met with my psychic. I know as psychics go there are many who are full of crap. This one, however, is the real deal. It's the second time I've met with her. I told her nothing of my family yet she was able to describe my Mother's laugh (she died last year). She was able to describe in accurate detail the way my brother stood when he joined us in our session (he died eight years ago). There were many things over the course of our session that once again confirmed I wasn't making a mistake by meeting with her.

My goal for the session was to dig further into my spiritual path. As an active Pagan, my spirituality seems to have been kicked up several notches. My psychic was able to confirm a few things I suspected about myself all along. She helped confirm I am not only on the right path but that I need to forge ahead and try to find an outlet for my "gift." What? Working in IT isn't conducive to enhancing my intuition?

She warned me about my inability to stop taking on other peoples' emotion. She warned me that I was going to have to learn to "pull the plug" on those whose energy I need to stay away from or it could be detrimental to my own health. I shared with her the constant feed I get from Hot Toddy's Toaster Oven. I explained that it didn't matter the time of day, it was there and I couldn't turn it off. Nor did I want to. His is an energy that helps me grow.

It was at this point I took out a picture of Todd. Again, having not told her anything about him she was able to describe him as artistic; that he had a big heart; that he is all about love; that he has a great sense of humor (there is more but I'd have to go the tape she gave me of our session). She said she could see Todd writing, being published. Writing a screenplay that would be very successful. She said she couldn't see him as famous actor but that she could see him as a very successful character actor...the kind whose face you know but whose name escapes you. I told her he was, indeed, an actor and confirmed that her assessment of him was correct.

As she studied the photo further, she began to giggle under her breath and shake her head. "You two have been related in two past lives. That's why you can feel him the way you do." Apparently we have a soul cord that has existed for a long time. In one life he was my younger brother and in the other he was my father. I was pleasantly surprised. There was much more to my session and much more about Toddy that I have shared with him that will remain between us (well, us and The Handsome Prince and Ms Karma). Things from which we may learn and grow as human beings while existing in this spiral.

I guess the one question that I neglected to ask was whether or not all that Maker's Mark could, in fact, ever get to me! "No, Officer, I haven't been drinking... Todd is.. No, he's not here. He's at CC Slaughter's. He was my brother...and then he was my Dad. I am serious. I can feel's like a spiritual cord. I don't even like whiskey."

Monday, November 08, 2004

Melancholy Metaphors

I stood at the back steps of our building today and had a smoke. I stood, leaning against the blue pipe handrail, with the sunlight delicately kissing my face, my skin. I stood, eyes shut for a brief moment and tried to breathe. As I opened my eyes, I noticed all of the yellow leaves lying on the ground. They were everywhere. There must have been a million of them layering the ground and the foliage surrounding the trees. As I stood overwhelmed by natures beauty, another leaf detached itself from it's source of life and fell silently to the ground. The only thought that made its way through my melancholy state of mind today was that the leaf fell, much like my heart falls to the ground each time the thought of her crosses my mind. Before the leaf landed, a dozen more fell all at different intervals - each one searching for a new place - not knowing what to expect.

As I looked upon the covered ground, I realized that everyone of those million or so leaves represented each time my heart has broken since she left. I couldn't help but wonder when this pain and uncertainty will end. I felt my eyes swell with tears and as I turned to walk away, one more leaf fell before me to serve as a reminder that I'm not there yet.