putting it all in one place

I've decided to merge the writings from all my scattered blogs. It makes for kinda peculiar reading but it makes me feel less splintered. Enjoy.......

September 12th, 2005
03:42 pm: Who's Going To Save The Day?**************You have to understand a quirky dimension of my personality...I am a little traumatized, a little incredulous of the fact I never uncovered my superhero identity or superpower. Its true. For as long as I can remember, I was certain I just had to figure it out and then, with great fanfare and perhaps celestial cheering, it would be revealed to me in all its glory. Really. Because you see, its just latent, waiting, wanting to be discovered. Eager for that moment when you turn that inner key and unleash your special ability to protect the world, as we know it. You just had to practice enough to uncover it. I was SO sure.And believe me, I practiced. On the 150-acre farm in Southern Maryland where I spent big chunks of summer I had plenty of time and privacy to practice. I would find a respectable towel and a large safety pin and stand proud in my terry cloth cape. I would painstakingly tape the longest, palest, pliable pine needles to my sweaty face with tape. I was convinced I could channel Cat Woman and use her skills for Good. Then I would run as fast as I could! (without ruining my whiskers) and imagine myself either streaking insanely fast like Flash Gordon or melting into another dimension or gaining momentum and leaping into the air to soar effortlessly.Each time, each sticky, determined time it didn't happen I was dismayed. I just couldn't understand what I was doing wrong. What I was leaving out. What I was overdoing. So I would reconsider. Try another angle. Okay maybe I didn't have a physical, like, athletic superpower. Maybe it was something subtle, but really cool like telepathy or seeing through solid objects. So just in case that was my superpower I would spend hours trying to telepathically pick the order of playing cards. Boy that was boring but it felt like important work. Even when I concentrated extra hard I never scored much beyond like 50/50. That didn't even impress me.So each summer I came back to my little corner of Fells Point, still a regular mortal, my heart sank. It felt like I had failed somehow. Not only myself, but all the Superheroes who were cheering me on. Crossing their fingers that I would unleash my slumbering force.After careful consideration and review of the facts I decided I just hadn't awakened some critical percentage of my unused brain. That was the ONLY plausibility. I knew in my bones, in the molecules of my being, that I was going to fly or something.I craved that Eureka moment so badly I could feel my superhero outfit, feel my cape billowing in the wind. With that image firmly resting in my minds’ eye, I would try test leaps off my front steps and meet unforgiving cement. My body bears the scars as testament.And to this day, umpteen years into my adult life, every Halloween resurrects those painful certainties. I get helpless with the yearning to apply some sequins or spandex, leather or feathers and magically slip into my superhero identity.
August 28th 2005
09:56 pm: warming up the keyboradYou know how it is when you have like a trillion things you've been thinking about and ALL of them seem to have enough significance that you want to note it in some fashion? Maybe call a best pal for a phone chat, or hunker down over a just right mug of coffe and scribble madly in your journal or spontaneoualy launch into menaingful conversation with a stranger and then feeel like the world really is a good place? Well, I've been feeling like that for a couple of weeks now. Life has been busy and interactive enough that i actually have experiences and thoughts that go somewhere. But here's the thing...I think its created a kind of brain bottleneck. You know how there inevitably is a minor accident on a holiday weekend on the large interstate you have to travel...and its just a fender bender but the two drivers insist a police officer has to see the minor scratches with his on two eyes and so neither of them will budge an they block one of the four lanes and everybody has to a) slow down to see if there is any blood or a body or something and b)no one avoids the now completely blocked lane in any rational fashion, EVERYONE tries toget out of the lane first....and so the other three lanes back up hopelessly as result? Have you ever had that experience? well thats sort of wht's happening with my brain.For example, my trip to New York last weekend. Childless I might add. That alone is worth a bunch of commentary. Really. And I was just saturated with imagery and obervations. I even have some pictures. Trying to figure out how to link them to this blog. SO keep looking for them.And we cannot forget that the kitchen redo is still underway. Its starting to look like something now, which makes my heart glad. I really! miss my stove. I think I'll give it long, loving French kisses when I have it again. Well, to be completely honest it won't be just any stove, it will be a crazy brand new stove that (this is hard for me to say) matches the rest of the appliances. EEk I know. Its a really foreign concept and its freaking me out a little bit but it will look good. AND I will have some kind of funky dramatic tile scheme to balance the normal matching appliances. Because well I have to. I'm genuinely getting excited about it now. I'm starting to imagine the cool entertaining space that it will be. So look for an invitation of some sort in the next couple of months mmmkay.I really enjoyed this visit to New York. It was relaxing in a walk at least 40 miles in two days sort of way. I liked it becasue I didn't have any specific agenda or plan or schedule. My friend and I just wandered the streets downtown. A little China Town and (I don't remember all the names) but Greenwich Village I think, and Houston Street seemed to be one of our axes but not Houston like in Texas-its pronounced How-ston-this is a very important distinction. You will be screaming NON Native New Yorker if you say Houston. So file that in your important file.I delighted in the architecture. Ok Not all the architecture. The old stuff. The artistry just floors me. Would someone tell me the reason, beyond good old fashioned greed, that builders and architects stopped creating buildings with personality and class and flair. Structures that flaunted craftsmanship. I won't go all crazy on this soap box because I genuinely want an answer.... I mean sheer mirrored squares and other geometric shapes have some merit I guess. The really really tall ones probably murmur to themselves about how cool they are I'm sure. But they don't speak to my soul or my imagination. Give me a grizzled structure with some gargoyles leering from the roof or buxom womanly figures hanging lasciviously over doorways any day. I mean really. I'd live or house a businees in a 50 or more year old building with character than a brand new structure in a second. Because I want the roof over my head to be alive dammit.Random notable statement from the New York weekend , "Now, who in my life needs Angel Snot?"

August 9th, 2005
09:01 pm: notes to get back to you onhey.we're renovating. All lower case letters to show my supreme excitement. (not). I mean don't misunderstand, I can't wait until the project is done and unveiled in all its new fancy brand spanking new glory. But. I gotta tell ya. Living in it, well is kinda a big pain.More on that, including a link to before and after pictures when I get them up.Still plodding along on the big party for my poetry site which was supposed to be a launch party but will now probably be more like a one year anniversary party because well its nearly a year old now. And doing well to my great delightful surprise. I have to give a couple people big thanks for kicking my bee hind and making me do it already- Meilena and my hubby. I kept hemming and hawing and they just wouldn't hear it. So now instead of talking about this cool website, I work on this cool website and talk to folks and generally have an outlet for my frenetic "gotta plan something" energy. I'm still a bit tortured that summer is zipping by and we won't really have a vacation (becasue of aforementioned renovation). We'll go to Lotion City for a day or two and I did do a 24 hour camping trip and I may take a brief jaunt to New York. But no week long simmer in laziness. Oh well. Maybe the whole summer vacation thing is just an illusion anyway? In other news, it looks like I'll be going to my high school reunion. This is sort of big new becasue I never thouht there would be a reunion. First of all, I only had a graduating class of two (myself and another girl). The school has long been closed. And well it was a nontraditional establishment at best. From what I understand there has been one other reunion but that was held for students from before my time. This particular one seems to be a mix of the two.So if I actually go, I'll be sure to tell you all about it. And if anyone reading this is familiar with Baltimore Experimental High School and might like to re-connect, holler and I'll give you the details. Students. friends of students, staff, friends of staff...if you were a part of that grand institution you should be there.On a totally different note, we've decided to take white sugar out of Sophie's diet. Not an easy task of course. But as an experiment I eliminated it for a few days and whoa what a difference. She had started getting this really nasty streak in her personality. Just not being much fun to be around. Bossy and pushy and over demanding particularly for junk food. Asking for it first thing in the morning. Marshmallows only from cereal and chocolate and then getting hysterical when we wouldn't give it to her. Now she is delightful to be around again. I've given her 'natural sugar"-ya know cane juice.. found cookies at Trader Joe's-and they don't make her so spazzy. So its either the white sugar or the artificial dyes-but I'm leaning towrds the sugar.Wish we could try eliminating it in lots of kids diets and see if the society at large didn't improve somewhat.I feel better without it too. It's got this insatiable thing about it. I've gone cold turkey from white sugar before. And I distinctly remember not eating it for about a week and then someone gave us birthday cake leftovers.I got the munchies, took a little bite and then COULD NOt stop eating it, It was gross. So I might have to tote snacks around and get the grandparents a stock but its so worth it.I had lots of other things to say but they've escaped me now. I'll try to post a little more often for the dozen or so people who visit.........

July 20th, 2005
08:20 am: Sobering ThoughtSo here's a sobering thought....you only begin to care about how clean your house is if your creativity is going down the toilet. Got it? I think there's some truth to this because if you are busy being creative, who cares! how the house looks. You know the essentials will get done somehow because they have to but you don't worry about the dust bunnies on the chair rail.So I've been kinda obsessing on throwing everything away and starting from scratch. I crave places for stuff. I don't want to see a patina of cat fur on everything anymore. And did I mention we are gutting our kitchen and preparing to redo it and the dining room? Pandemonium is about to ensue.I keep telling myself some of this organization stuff I've been hearing so much about is going to visit my house and give me the space to be motivated because I won't be overwhlemed with the masses of stuff lounging around my house with no particular place to go. I will then be able to set up a functioning, hear that functioning desk and office like area. I have a desk now but it only just barely functions. I can only type on the desk becasue there isn't enough room to do anything else. I definitely don't have space ot arrange novel notes or write in my notebook.So this morning sitting on my cool, before the sun and humidity come raging along, deck I wondered which came first-the chicken or the egg? Am I too worried about house stuff so I'm not really writing or has it genuinely gotten to a place where it overwhlems me and its hard to write?I am, admittedly, a Jedi Knight, a Master of the highest degree when it comes to procrastination. It is an art from of quiet beauty I have perfected, lo these many years. It is the most absurdly self destructive behaviour I could ever wish on my worst nemesis. aaaaaaarrrrrggggghhhhh!! ( I'm down on my knees now pounding the earth with bloodied fists) What did I do to deserve this!?And oh yeah there's the added spiciness of being right on the precipice of the decade I swore I would start meeting some of my creative goals. Right down there, a handful of months away. Ya know what I do when I have a few sort of undisturbed moments that my daughter gives me? I sneak over to the computer and read blogs. I read about all the sturggles and successes other people are having. I'll spend a solid half hour reading someone else's words put onscreen and then beat myself up because I'm not writing. "What in God's name is wrong with me, I can write like that. Or better than that, or more than that." Except I'm not writing much of anything.Soooooo dear readers, you have beeen subjected to this pointless stream of consciousness because for now on I can't read other blogs until I write something. Whaddya think? Will it get me somewhere? I really need a writing dominatrix to stand menacingly over me in something leather or latex and sexy and whip me into a daily writing practice. I do I really need that becausue I clearly don't have the back bone to do it myself.Maybe if I get a headstone mounted somewhere out back right now that reads something awful like "Here lies Julie. Never wrote a feeble line. Never wrote a line for that matter" or "Here lies Julie. She swore she would go out with a book in her hand. Guess What? No book". If I walked by an epitaph like that on a daily basis, sweetly rubbing my nose in it, would I get motivated?

June 28th, 2005
10:53 am: A Defining MomentI saw a wooden yellow and black Baltimore City festival booth at the Hopkins Fair, with two long haired people sitting on it, talking to passersby. I knew I had found IT. There was a banner with a butterfly and two laid back people were telling people about their high school. “No man, we don’t give grades”. “Exactly, you get to pick your own classes.”“There aren’t that many students, maybe 75 or something.”I dragged my mom over to the booth and asked a couple questions. When I found out it was right downtown I thought “yes!”. I clutched a brochure in my sweaty little hand until I made an appointment for admissions.THIS was my high school. I absolutely, would not go to an all girls’ school and wear a uniform. I would eat roaches first. But this school, this was something I could sink my teeth into..I was so excited I started that summer. When I met the other students I felt comfortable. We shared interests and concerns. I could work as hard or as little as I chose and no one chided me one way or the other. They didn’t care what clothes I wore and encouraged me to ask questions. They already knew all the safe spots to smoke a bowlWhat I didn’t realize until later was how much that choice manifested the course of my life. A seemingly simple, little decision impacted my entire life.At this high school, I met a guy who took me on an Alice In Wonderland emotional journey. I met my first husband. I learned that I had the ability to sway an audience with my words. On paper, in front of people. I found I could plan events and raise money. I learned that I didn’t have drug or alcohol addictions but I liked mind altering substances maybe a little too much. I learned I had self -discipline, even if my environment didn’t. I met a mentor who remains a great friend. My mentor helped me get my first steps into the career I wanted. I left that career path because I had my son. My first husband’s addictions forced me back into the workforce. Back to the nature center where I first worked and I met my present husband. I walked all of these paths because I was able to choose my learning environment. I preferred a place called Baltimore Experimental High School far more, than any of the traditional options.
June 7th, 2005
03:01 pm: How I WriteOnce upon a time, I was a writer who wrote at the drop of a hat. I could write anywhere, with any level of noise. I could write about whatever came into my little head. I could write in the day or the wee hours of night. I dreamed of writing for a living. I fantasized seeing my book on the shelves of bookstores. I often wrote stories about aliens and monsters, blood and gore. Then I lurched into writing about random occurrences. I also wrote poetry if an idea didn’t quite merit the length of a story. I wrote because it felt good and it was fun. I didn’t have any prerequisites except a college ruled, spiral bound notebook and a pen that wrote smoothly. Then, one day I looked up and realized my writing had come to a standstill.Now, a divorce, 2nd marriage, 2 children and multiple forays into the workforce later, I am wondering how to get the magic back. I used to write fiercely, fearlessly. Now, I write nervously and only if I won’t be disturbed, interrupted.These days I need a prompt, a purpose, a kick start. A little something to outsmart the negative mantra that revs instantly and powerfully, like that Harley screaming up Loch Raven Boulevard. I frequently tease myself with the notion, “If I just get this laundry, organizing, event planning, child rearing, husband tending, gardening done first, I’ll make writing a habit again”. So, I putter along in fits and starts. Make myself attend at least one casual writing workshop a week. I read the work of other real people who write regularly and I remind myself of my vow not to be rocking in my chair of old age, nursing regrets about how I never got around to writing.
Current Mood: contemplative
Current Music: lawn mower in the distance

May 6th, 2005
08:38 pm: I've almost forgottenhow this blog thing works. Its been ages since I've posted anything. For good reason..I've been surprisingly busy. Surprised by the fact my little pet project, www.poetryinbaltimore.com is doing quite well. I'm totally surprised by how many members I have already. There is consistent daily activity, interaction, support between members. Its really a good thing. The more surprising aspect has been the success of the poetry events I've been putting together. I've gone from wondering if there will be any poets, which was what I worried about during the joint project I undertook before, and my first PoetryInBaltimore.com sponsored poetry event when I worried wether all the poets that showed up would get time to read before they closed the venue. I even raised money for a local nonprofit, BookThing (www.bookthing.org) on a tuesday night with a PoetryInBaltimore.com event. I'm part of the team putting together poetry at a local festival, SoweboFest, and with very little press, we have 29 poets signed up two weeks before the festival. Awesome!I think what pleases me most about how this project is coming together is that it is my personal antidote to the all the bad news the networks push down our throats, the wars, the general malaise that can so easily descend upon someone living in the US right now.This is my way to give community a chance, a way to get to know some new people, a way to get poetry into the mainstream a little more. I feel like poetry is one of those art forms that gets you to slow down a moment. Its always an opportunity to see glimpses of someone else's head, world, and perspective for a change.Its also been gratifying to see people enjoying my poetry. I'm still really fighting the stage fright thing. I don't quite understand it because I taught for years and that kind of "public speaking" came easily to me. Reading my poetry is a fresh little trauma each time. But I try to look at it this way, at least when I'm feeling all nervous and antsy and self conscious-I know I am alive. I'm present in the moment of anxiety.... I'm pretty sure it will get a little easier each time, and I have been in the company of and gotten support from some excellent role models. I was kind of proud of myself last week, I went to see a nationally known spoken word artist, Ursula Rucker,very strong, really moving. And there was an open mic afterwards. I hesitantly put my name in the hat. I was the first name called..and yikes, what a performer to follow. But I got up on stage anyway, and read as clearly and directly as I could muster. It was hard but I did it. I feel good about that.I haven't been writing as much poetry as I would like lately. But I've been going to weekly workshops around town and keeping the juices flowing. I did write one last week that had been stewing for awhile. I've been reading this fascinating book called The Spell of the Sensuous by David Abram ( I think) and it sparked my most recent poem.geesh, this was a long post....I guess I'll quit here and save something for the next one.

December 19th, 2003
09:58 pm: some more stuff[ Sat Dec 13, 07:43:58 AM some stuffMy e-world is expanding. That is good news. It keeps the feeling of social isolation to a miniumum. I am making progress in the daily house maintenance department. I've think I've gotten filth under control. Clutter is another issue altogether. It will require some creative storage because I totally forget what I pack away. I'm visual. I like to see my stuff. and just in case you wondered, I'm most like this X Men character: You are Beast! You are brilliant and extremely clever. You canhandle almost any problem swiftly andefficiently. You are devoted to philosophy andare always up for a good discussion.Sometimes, though, your anger gets the best ofyou and you upset those whom you care about. Which X-Men character are you most like?brought to you by Quizilla

Unique Boutique

April 1st

Unique Boutique
A flea market for creatives

9:00 am to 4:00 pm
rain or shine

$1 admission
$10 vendor space

Are you shedding stuff after a good spring clean?
Are you an insatiable collector?
Do you just like to stroll around a flea market?

Carrie Murray Nature Center
1910 Ridgetop Road
Baltimore, Md 21207
410-396-0808
contact susan.riffey@baltimorecity.gov

or-ga-ni-zing

I'm quickly learning that this organizing thing is both simple and maniacal. I have had to become mildly obsessed in order to continue making order while living in the order I'm trying to make....
In other words, you better be really dedicated to this organizing thing, especially IF you have a three year old who finds everything you're trying to sort and put away incredibly fascinating. It's also really difficult when your entire family of four are in differing stages of reforming slobdom. Some not really reforming at all.
I have decided this is the winter where things find their places. For a variety of reasons that are practical and particularly because I'm sick of the chaos.
I have a long list of creative projects I want to undertake and complete. I genuinely feel that a framework of order will help the tackling of the creative list enormously.
I will never be totally tidy but if my creative life gets a little frothy (and I hope it does) than having the framework will keep regular life from getting out of control.
I love my new kitchen ( I swear I'll post some photos) and I think its perkiness is trying to spread to the rest of the house. AND I'm realizing I actually enjoy my home. Many, many of the places I've lived in, I did not enjoy at all and all I wanted to do was go play to be away from them. I want to entertain in this home and spread good cheer. SO much easier when there is a framework of order.
I want to post in this blog regularly and not feeling like there are twenty other things that require my attention more, will make it much less of a struggle. Look! I've posted two days in a row almost.
I will talk more about my creative projects as they get underway. Some are just for my own pleasure, some involve community building. Some are visual, some are literary. Its all good.

color

I Ihave confirmed once and for all that I am very mood sensitive to color. I can feel my spirits brighten when I have happy colors near me and I get subdued around low key shades. My living room and kitchen/dining room have been blue for the past two months or so and in combination with the short grey days it was bringing me down.

SO! I am in the process of re-painting the living room a yellow hued lime green and the difference in my mood in that room is dramatic. Makes me happy. Makes my spirit lighter. Even makes the grey days seem not so grey.

unplug

I have been so unable to get words from my mhead to outside lately. So I thought I would start here. Just get words out. Not stress about them. Not edit them or rethink them first.
Its the week before Christmas. I'm simultaneously delighted and ambivalent. I thought my Decorating Party (we make ornaments) would kick my spirits into high gear but it didn't.
I'm too social for my own good in a way. I haven't had to do the mall craziness because I'm not buying a lot but I do sort of miss out on that buzz you get in the mall. I know its overdone and even sort of overwhelming but there is a commonality inherent-the idea we're all in this together at the same time. I'm a sucker for the whole Christmas Spirit thing and want to feel all snug and enveloped in it.
There's any number of legitimate, rational reasons why I couldn't so all the things I wanted to do to celebrate. I want to put upa gazillion Christmas lights outside and we have a smattering. And one set that look remarkably like teeth and people keep asking us why we've hung teeth for Christmas.
I want more than one tree, I wanted a little tree in each room so I can cater ot my folly for multiply themed trees. And I wanted to make wonderful batches of cookies. And, and and and I want to just feel delirious about Christmas.
Perhaps, it really all comes together for me on Christmas Eve when I can't see clearly anymore because its so late and I 've been wrapping like a mad woman...and then I get the annual panic that underneath the tree looks bare, that they'll be disappointed and then I have to remind myself its ok. Because I choose to choose gifts carefully and not for the volume under the tree. And the first stirrings that announce its Christmas morning. My four year old still hasn't woken up in a frenzy yet. She wakes up and tells us its morning and we have to remind her that Santa may have come in the night. And we saunter downstairs and she gets the big twinkly eyes and then methodically opens her gifts. It tickles us so much.
We simmer in the toy assembly aftermath and then collect our sense for the rest of the day where people visit and we visit others.
Well the Munchkin wants a little of my undivided attention...cya

So I'm a bit of a doofus

You see I have this whole poetry thing going on in my life. Its called www.PoetryInBaltimore.com and November 12th I'm having this big one year anniversary gig. I'm such a putz that I only now, this morning, three or so days before the event even thought to put the info on my blog.
But better late than never as they say so here it is!
Well I wanted my really snazzy poster to come up but I'm not techno savvy so I'll just have to type it up purdy.

You are eagerly invited to come enjoy the
PoetryInBaltimore.com ALCHEMY PARTY
to Celebrate 1 Year Online and hosting poetry events!!
November 12
Library of Progress -1401 S. Light Street (Federal Hill)
Doors open 7 pm
Open Mic 8 pm
Some of the Featured Performers:
David Franks
c.e laine
Mark Sanders
Dri Fish & Native Son of 5thL
Jennifer VanBuren
Joe Wall
Music:
ranahnsentences
Bob Pyle
Raga Celtic Delta Blues
& more
FREE ADMISSION
more info julie@poetryinbaltimore.com/ 443-418-4762
Grab your friemds! Bring your relatives!
Swoop up your neighbors!
YAHOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

SO here is the little bit o Halloween at our house. One Jack o Lantern on the porch and 4 leetle pumpkins on the tv. The kitchen construction has dashed my hopes of a well decorated Halloween. I LOVE Halloween

I want to be Stimpy this year but don't know if I'l lbe able to pull it off.
Sophie was Stephanie from LazyTown for her school parade. She looked great. Gotta find the pictures.

Halloween officially falls on Monday this year. Not much fun. But we'll figure out a way to make it fun. We MUST!

Was It Fate?

So picture this. You’re driving down a winding country road, late at night because you have to get out. Your toddler is in the car seat. You ache to drive and drive and just end up somewhere. Anywhere but the place in the middle of nowhere you are now.

Your phone only rings with bill collectors, you must choose between one less pound of hamburger or the magazine at the grocery check out.

You spend recklessly one day because your all time favorite artist has a new album. You are delighted. You don’t feel the least bit guilty you are holding his album in your grubby little hand. You choose to savor the anticipation. It’s still in the plastic wrap.

As you cruise aimlessly through the darkened roads you feel the disc calling to you. Just wait a little bit longer. Just bask in this knowledge its there. But patience has never been your strong point. You reach under the seat and pull it out. Bite thru the cellophane and release it.

You tenderly slide it into the player. The first moments of silence are exquisite torture. “Inner Revolution” is the first song. It reflects what you feel about life. It resonates. You are glad Adrian Belew sings it. You see your toddler is tapping along in the back seat. Briefly, you only feel enveloped by music.

Okay, have you got it? Are you right there with me? Good!

The next thing I know, Adrian is singing about MY life. I am incredulous. He sings the thoughts that had been creeping quietly in my psyche.

“What was the sense in keeping alive
something that never made us satisfied
sometimes it's better to get on with your life
I don't believe in hurting each other all the time”

Simple lyrics accompanied by bittersweet melodies brought all the pieces clicking in to place for me. Just like that. The painful truth was, that I would leave. I would disconnect THE FAMILY.

The funny thing was, it felt ok. The crushing weight that had been lumbering around on my shoulders, on my heart, got lighter. I blasted the volume and sung along. I decided I would no longer fight “The War In The Gulf Between Us”.

Who's Going To Save The Day?

September 12th, 2005
03:42 pm:

You have to understand a quirky dimension of my personality...I am a little traumatized, a little incredulous by the fact I never uncovered my superhero identity or superpower. Its true. For as long as I can remember, I was certain I just had to figure it out and then, with great fanfare and perhaps celestial cheering, it would be revealed to me in all its glory. Really. Because you see, its just latent, waiting, wanting to be discovered. Eager for that moment when you turn that inner key and unleash your special ability to protect the world, as we know it. You just had to practice enough to uncover it. I was SO sure.And believe me, I practiced. On the 150-acre farm in Southern Maryland where I spent big chunks of summer I had plenty of time and privacy to practice. I would find a respectable towel and a large safety pin and stand proud in my terry cloth cape. I would painstakingly tape the longest, palest, pliable pine needles to my sweaty face with tape. I was convinced I could channel Cat Woman and use her skills for Good. Then I would run as fast as I could! (without ruining my whiskers) and imagine myself either streaking insanely fast like Flash Gordon or melting into another dimension or gaining momentum and leaping into the air to soar effortlessly.Each time, each sticky, determined time it didn't happen I was dismayed. I just couldn't understand what I was doing wrong. What I was leaving out. What I was overdoing. So I would reconsider. Try another angle. Okay maybe I didn't have a physical, like, athletic superpower. Maybe it was something subtle, but really cool like telepathy or seeing through solid objects. So just in case that was my superpower I would spend hours trying to telepathically pick the order of playing cards. Boy that was boring but it felt like important work. Even when I concentrated extra hard I never scored much beyond like 50/50. That didn't even impress me.So each summer I came back to my little corner of Fells Point, still a regular mortal, my heart sank. It felt like I had failed somehow. Not only myself, but all the Superheroes who were cheering me on. Crossing their fingers that I would unleash my slumbering force.After careful consideration and review of the facts I decided I just hadn't awakened some critical percentage of my unused brain. That was the ONLY plausibility. I knew in my bones, in the molecules of my being, that I was going to fly or something.I craved that Eureka moment so badly I could feel my superhero outfit, feel my cape billowing in the wind. With that image firmly resting in my minds’ eye, I would try test leaps off my front steps and meet unforgiving cement. My body bears the scars as testament.And to this day, umpteen years into my adult life, every Halloween resurrects those painful certainties. I get helpless with the yearning to apply some sequins or spandex, leather or feathers and magically slip into my superhero identity.

Warming Up The Keyboard

August 28th, 2005
09:56 pm:
warming up the keyborad
You know how it is when you have like a trillion things you've been thinking about and ALL of them seem to have enough significance that you want to note it in some fashion? Maybe call a best pal for a phone chat, or hunker down over a just right mug of coffe and scribble madly in your journal or spontaneoualy launch into menaingful conversation with a stranger and then feeel like the world really is a good place? Well, I've been feeling like that for a couple of weeks now. Life has been busy and interactive enough that i actually have experiences and thoughts that go somewhere. But here's the thing...I think its created a kind of brain bottleneck. You know how there inevitably is a minor accident on a holiday weekend on the large interstate you have to travel...and its just a fender bender but the two drivers insist a police officer has to see the minor scratches with his on two eyes and so neither of them will budge an they block one of the four lanes and everybody has to a) slow down to see if there is any blood or a body or something and b)no one avoids the now completely blocked lane in any rational fashion, EVERYONE tries toget out of the lane first....and so the other three lanes back up hopelessly as result? Have you ever had that experience? well thats sort of wht's happening with my brain.For example, my trip to New York last weekend. Childless I might add. That alone is worth a bunch of commentary. Really. And I was just saturated with imagery and obervations. I even have some pictures. Trying to figure out how to link them to this blog. SO keep looking for them.And we cannot forget that the kitchen redo is still underway. Its starting to look like something now, which makes my heart glad. I really! miss my stove. I think I'll give it long, loving French kisses when I have it again. Well, to be completely honest it won't be just any stove, it will be a crazy brand new stove that (this is hard for me to say) matches the rest of the appliances. EEk I know. Its a really foreign concept and its freaking me out a little bit but it will look good. AND I will have some kind of funky dramatic tile scheme to balance the normal matching appliances. Because well I have to. I'm genuinely getting excited about it now. I'm starting to imagine the cool entertaining space that it will be. So look for an invitation of some sort in the next couple of months mmmkay.I really enjoyed this visit to New York. It was relaxing in a walk at least 40 miles in two days sort of way. I liked it becasue I didn't have any specific agenda or plan or schedule. My friend and I just wandered the streets downtown. A little China Town and (I don't remember all the names) but Greenwich Village I think, and Houston Street seemed to be one of our axes but not Houston like in Texas-its pronounced How-ston-this is a very important distinction. You will be screaming NON Native New Yorker if you say Houston. So file that in your important file.I delighted in the architecture. Ok Not all the architecture. The old stuff. The artistry just floors me. Would someone tell me the reason, beyond good old fashioned greed, that builders and architects stopped creating buildings with personality and class and flair. Structures that flaunted craftsmanship. I won't go all crazy on this soap box because I genuinely want an answer.... I mean sheer mirrored squares and other geometric shapes have some merit I guess. The really really tall ones probably murmur to themselves about how cool they are I'm sure. But they don't speak to my soul or my imagination. Give me a grizzled structure with some gargoyles leering from the roof or buxom womanly figures hanging lasciviously over doorways any day. I mean really. I'd live or house a businees in a 50 or more year old building with character than a brand new structure in a second. Because I want the roof over my head to be alive dammit.Random notable statement from the New York weekend , "Now, who in my life needs Angel Snot?"

Notes To Get Back To You On

August 9th, 2005
09:01 pm:
notes to get back to you on
hey.we're renovating. All lower case letters to show my supreme excitement. (not). I mean don't misunderstand, I can't wait until the project is done and unveiled in all its new fancy brand spanking new glory. But. I gotta tell ya. Living in it, well is kinda a big pain.More on that, including a link to before and after pictures when I get them up.Still plodding along on the big party for my poetry site which was supposed to be a launch party but will now probably be more like a one year anniversary party because well its nearly a year old now. And doing well to my great delightful surprise. I have to give a couple people big thanks for kicking my bee hind and making me do it already- Meilena and my hubby. I kept hemming and hawing and they just wouldn't hear it. So now instead of talking about this cool website, I work on this cool website and talk to folks and generally have an outlet for my frenetic "gotta plan something" energy. I'm still a bit tortured that summer is zipping by and we won't really have a vacation (becasue of aforementioned renovation). We'll go to Lotion City for a day or two and I did do a 24 hour camping trip and I may take a brief jaunt to New York. But no week long simmer in laziness. Oh well. Maybe the whole summer vacation thing is just an illusion anyway? In other news, it looks like I'll be going to my high school reunion. This is sort of big new becasue I never thouht there would be a reunion. First of all, I only had a graduating class of two (myself and another girl). The school has long been closed. And well it was a nontraditional establishment at best. From what I understand there has been one other reunion but that was held for students from before my time. This particular one seems to be a mix of the two.So if I actually go, I'll be sure to tell you all about it. And if anyone reading this is familiar with Baltimore Experimental High School and might like to re-connect, holler and I'll give you the details. Students. friends of students, staff, friends of staff...if you were a part of that grand institution you should be there.On a totally different note, we've decided to take white sugar out of Sophie's diet. Not an easy task of course. But as an experiment I eliminated it for a few days and whoa what a difference. She had started getting this really nasty streak in her personality. Just not being much fun to be around. Bossy and pushy and over demanding particularly for junk food. Asking for it first thing in the morning. Marshmallows only from cereal and chocolate and then getting hysterical when we wouldn't give it to her. Now she is delightful to be around again. I've given her 'natural sugar"-ya know cane juice.. found cookies at Trader Joe's-and they don't make her so spazzy. So its either the white sugar or the artificial dyes-but I'm leaning towrds the sugar.Wish we could try eliminating it in lots of kids diets and see if the society at large didn't improve somewhat.I feel better without it too. It's got this insatiable thing about it. I've gone cold turkey from white sugar before. And I distinctly remember not eating it for about a week and then someone gave us birthday cake leftovers.I got the munchies, took a little bite and then COULD NOt stop eating it, It was gross. So I might have to tote snacks around and get the grandparents a stock but its so worth it.I had lots of other things to say but they've escaped me now. I'll try to post a little more often for the dozen or so people who visit.........

July 20th, 2005
08:20 am:
Sobering Thought
So here's a sobering thought....you only begin to care about how clean your house is if your creativity is going down the toilet. Got it? I think there's some truth to this because if you are busy being creative, who cares! how the house looks. You know the essentials will get done somehow because they have to but you don't worry about the dust bunnies on the chair rail.So I've been kinda obsessing on throwing everything away and starting from scratch. I crave places for stuff. I don't want to see a patina of cat fur on everything anymore. And did I mention we are gutting our kitchen and preparing to redo it and the dining room? Pandemonium is about to ensue.I keep telling myself some of this organization stuff I've been hearing so much about is going to visit my house and give me the space to be motivated because I won't be overwhlemed with the masses of stuff lounging around my house with no particular place to go. I will then be able to set up a functioning, hear that functioning desk and office like area. I have a desk now but it only just barely functions. I can only type on the desk becasue there isn't enough room to do anything else. I definitely don't have space ot arrange novel notes or write in my notebook.So this morning sitting on my cool, before the sun and humidity come raging along, deck I wondered which came first-the chicken or the egg? Am I too worried about house stuff so I'm not really writing or has it genuinely gotten to a place where it overwhlems me and its hard to write?I am, admittedly, a Jedi Knight, a Master of the highest degree when it comes to procrastination. It is an art from of quiet beauty I have perfected, lo these many years. It is the most absurdly self destructive behaviour I could ever wish on my worst nemesis. aaaaaaarrrrrggggghhhhh!! ( I'm down on my knees now pounding the earth with bloodied fists) What did I do to deserve this!?And oh yeah there's the added spiciness of being right on the precipice of the decade I swore I would start meeting some of my creative goals. Right down there, a handful of months away. Ya know what I do when I have a few sort of undisturbed moments that my daughter gives me? I sneak over to the computer and read blogs. I read about all the sturggles and successes other people are having. I'll spend a solid half hour reading someone else's words put onscreen and then beat myself up because I'm not writing. "What in God's name is wrong with me, I can write like that. Or better than that, or more than that." Except I'm not writing much of anything.Soooooo dear readers, you have beeen subjected to this pointless stream of consciousness because for now on I can't read other blogs until I write something. Whaddya think? Will it get me somewhere? I really need a writing dominatrix to stand menacingly over me in something leather or latex and sexy and whip me into a daily writing practice. I do I really need that becausue I clearly don't have the back bone to do it myself.Maybe if I get a headstone mounted somewhere out back right now that reads something awful like "Here lies Julie. Never wrote a feeble line. Never wrote a line for that matter" or "Here lies Julie. She swore she would go out with a book in her hand. Guess What? No book". If I walked by an epitaph like that on a daily basis, sweetly rubbing my nose in it, would I get motivated?

A Defining Moment

June 28th, 2005
10:53 am:
A Defining Moment
I saw a wooden yellow and black Baltimore City festival booth at the Hopkins Fair, with two long haired people sitting on it, talking to passersby. I knew I had found IT. There was a banner with a butterfly and two laid back people were telling people about their high school. “No man, we don’t give grades”. “Exactly, you get to pick your own classes.”“There aren’t that many students, maybe 75 or something.”I dragged my mom over to the booth and asked a couple questions. When I found out it was right downtown I thought “yes!”. I clutched a brochure in my sweaty little hand until I made an appointment for admissions.THIS was my high school. I absolutely, would not go to an all girls’ school and wear a uniform. I would eat roaches first. But this school, this was something I could sink my teeth into..I was so excited I started that summer. When I met the other students I felt comfortable. We shared interests and concerns. I could work as hard or as little as I chose and no one chided me one way or the other. They didn’t care what clothes I wore and encouraged me to ask questions. They already knew all the safe spots to smoke a bowlWhat I didn’t realize until later was how much that choice manifested the course of my life. A seemingly simple, little decision impacted my entire life.At this high school, I met a guy who took me on an Alice In Wonderland emotional journey. I met my first husband. I learned that I had the ability to sway an audience with my words. On paper, in front of people. I found I could plan events and raise money. I learned that I didn’t have drug or alcohol addictions but I liked mind altering substances maybe a little too much. I learned I had self -discipline, even if my environment didn’t. I met a mentor who remains a great friend. My mentor helped me get my first steps into the career I wanted. I left that career path because I had my son. My first husband’s addictions forced me back into the workforce. Back to the nature center where I first worked and I met my present husband. I walked all of these paths because I was able to choose my learning environment. I preferred a place called Baltimore Experimental High School far more, than any of the traditional options.

How I Write

June 7th, 2005
03:01 pm:
How I Write
Once upon a time, I was a writer who wrote at the drop of a hat. I could write anywhere, with any level of noise. I could write about whatever came into my little head. I could write in the day or the wee hours of night. I dreamed of writing for a living. I fantasized seeing my book on the shelves of bookstores. I often wrote stories about aliens and monsters, blood and gore. Then I lurched into writing about random occurrences. I also wrote poetry if an idea didn’t quite merit the length of a story. I wrote because it felt good and it was fun. I didn’t have any prerequisites except a college ruled, spiral bound notebook and a pen that wrote smoothly. Then, one day I looked up and realized my writing had come to a standstill.Now, a divorce, 2nd marriage, 2 children and multiple forays into the workforce later, I am wondering how to get the magic back. I used to write fiercely, fearlessly. Now, I write nervously and only if I won’t be disturbed, interrupted.These days I need a prompt, a purpose, a kick start. A little something to outsmart the negative mantra that revs instantly and powerfully, like that Harley screaming up Loch Raven Boulevard. I frequently tease myself with the notion, “If I just get this laundry, organizing, event planning, child rearing, husband tending, gardening done first, I’ll make writing a habit again”. So, I putter along in fits and starts. Make myself attend at least one casual writing workshop a week. I read the work of other real people who write regularly and I remind myself of my vow not to be rocking in my chair of old age, nursing regrets about how I never got around to writing.

old LJ repost #2

May 6th, 2005
08:38 pm: I've almost forgottenhow this blog thing works. Its been ages since I've posted anything. For good reason..I've been surprisingly busy. Surprised by the fact my little pet project, www.poetryinbaltimore.com is doing quite well. I'm totally surprised by how many members I have already. There is consistent daily activity, interaction, support between members. Its really a good thing. The more surprising aspect has been the success of the poetry events I've been putting together. I've gone from wondering if there will be any poets, which was what I worried about during the joint project I undertook before, and my first PoetryInBaltimore.com sponsored poetry event when I worried wether all the poets that showed up would get time to read before they closed the venue. I even raised money for a local nonprofit, BookThing (www.bookthing.org) on a tuesday night with a PoetryInBaltimore.com event. I'm part of the team putting together poetry at a local festival, SoweboFest, and with very little press, we have 29 poets signed up two weeks before the festival. Awesome!I think what pleases me most about how this project is coming together is that it is my personal antidote to the all the bad news the networks push down our throats, the wars, the general malaise that can so easily descend upon someone living in the US right now.This is my way to give community a chance, a way to get to know some new people, a way to get poetry into the mainstream a little more. I feel like poetry is one of those art forms that gets you to slow down a moment. Its always an opportunity to see glimpses of someone else's head, world, and perspective for a change.Its also been gratifying to see people enjoying my poetry. I'm still really fighting the stage fright thing. I don't quite understand it because I taught for years and that kind of "public speaking" came easily to me. Reading my poetry is a fresh little trauma each time. But I try to look at it this way, at least when I'm feeling all nervous and antsy and self conscious-I know I am alive. I'm present in the moment of anxiety.... I'm pretty sure it will get a little easier each time, and I have been in the company of and gotten support from some excellent role models. I was kind of proud of myself last week, I went to see a nationally known spoken word artist, Ursula Rucker,very strong, really moving. And there was an open mic afterwards. I hesitantly put my name in the hat. I was the first name called..and yikes, what a performer to follow. But I got up on stage anyway, and read as clearly and directly as I could muster. It was hard but I did it. I feel good about that.I haven't been writing as much poetry as I would like lately. But I've been going to weekly workshops around town and keeping the juices flowing. I did write one last week that had been stewing for awhile. I've been reading this fascinating book called The Spell of the Sensuous by David Abram ( I think) and it sparked my most recent poem.geesh, this was a long post....I guess I'll quit here and save something for the next one.

repost of old LJ #1

December 3rd, 2003
11:20 am: flogger(this is also on my blogspot)I think I'm in the market for a good flogger. We need someone to come here and beat us senseless until we figure out how to clean up after ourselves. I mean its really out of control. 98% of the time, if someone "popped by" I would be mortified by the state of my house. Not just kid clutter, well, ok, there is kid clutter. Is there such a thing as kid filth? There's always a fine patina of crumbs, and dried play doh and cat hair and tiny shreds of paper. I guess I can understand that. But, I can rarely see the floor in our bedroom. Everything is always on the counter and not in cupboards in our kitchen. The sink usually full with who knows what dishes. Some from today, some from yesterday I just didn't have the energy to finish, a couple days of rinsed recycling on the drying rack. My desk is just a cacophany of misplaced crap, pens that may or may not write, cds, cassette tapes I don't even listen to, jewelry wire, my engagement ring, a paper lantern......I don't get it. So really, If someone could just come over and beat us regularly, maybe we could get the hang of it. If I go to leave the dinner dishes in the sink over night-just a few good slaps might remind me. I really do apologize if some of you had horrible parents that disciplined you that way for real...this is just my bizarre fantasy life and I didn't mean to open old wounds. Now, my mother might argue that was how it was in her Cinderella life. She was her parents scullery maid and vowed as an adult never to lift a finger to clean unnecessarily. ( while typing I realize Soph has dusted the entire floor of the house in molecules of shredded soy cheese) And by the way, I can tell you that even a REALLY impassioned motivational conversation doesn't get the kitchen floor to clean itself. I just thought I would save you some trouble.

tiptoe thru rain drops.

Well it IS raining today.

I've been pondering as I often do. I spend way too much time on it occasionally.
But nevertheless, here is what I'm wondering today....How do you find a fine balance between the need to seek and/or create some kind of beauty in your life and the feeling that you should give some of your time and energy to actively making the world a better place. I realize there are some very subjective statements there but I think for the purpose of argument I can leave them. I mean, really. How do you figure this stuff out?

I know intrinsically that creation and an appreciation of creation keeps the gears oiled. But since we seem to be living in such a volatile time, exacerbated by the widening gap between the "haves" and the "have nots" it seems important to work towards peace and quality of life. I am not entirely sure how to do this. I try to take some action online politically when an opportunity presents itself, I try to speak up, clearly and honestly when narrow mindedness is blatant in my midst. I genuinely try to count my blessings, which sometimes has the undesirable effect of reminding me how little some folks have but...I still try. I genuinely make an effort to be a good human being. Its not routinely easy. I try never to lie. It keeps life simpler. I don't have very good short term memory so if I were to lie in layers or anything I would soon get caught in my own web.

But I seem to digress. Maybe the short question here is this: is it fair or correct or appropriate to plan to just take all your time to wrestle beauty from pathos? Is it practical to spend my time in a selfish quest to create stuff? Wether its writing or collage or a quest for an elusive personal aesthetic? How will that promote goodwill towards humanity? How will it slow global warming? How will it end hunger? How will it patch the hole in the ozone layer? How will it improve our education system? How will it stop the unnecessary slaughter of wildlife? How will it rescue our oceans? I could go on and on and on? I think I really need an answer to this...even if its not the "right" answer.

slow

I am "In Praise of Slow". The title of a book talked about on NPR the other day. I was comfortable being slow today. Too often I am distracted, rushed, my attention splintered.

I am learning, paying attention to my clear thoughts.

It has been particularly hectic and busy lately. It has been both pleasurable and maddening. I am trying to decipher what is pleasurable and fulfilling from the blur. I need to choose how to spend my time and energy rather than falling into an activity.

I've been feeling like I lack faith. Well, that's not right, I lack a vehicle, a ritual to connect me with the powers larger than myself. I have isolated myself. I have not prayed for ages becasue I have lost access to the words.
As I struggle to carve pockets of time to write I realized that was the vacuum. Writing is my relgion and I had discarded it. I am unable to subscribe to an organized religion, an authoritarian system of belief. Writing is my connection to the universe. It is the umbilical cord tethering me to everything. I haven't been tapping it. And my equilibrium has tangibly suffered.

I get overwhlemed by the multiple voices clamoring for attention. Mostly they are versions of my voice telling me all thats wrong and what I could/should be doing instead of what I'm doing. A self flagellating merry go round. I am certain that giving my writing an open page will open my heart.

a work in progress

I started throwing images on paper to deal with some stress...here's what's
working itself out.

The blunt ache
of raising a son
Whose father
abandoned him
seeking gold and Nirvana
of the needle
the snort
the comfort of hops.
We ride a roller coaster
Subtle undulations
of hormones
puberty
the mistrust of age.
There are moments
each day
my heart is delicately
sliced open
lemon juice
salt
dripped dripped
carefully
into the wounds.

I forage
thru my experiences
to find a salve
a reckoning
a bread crumb trail
of reasoning.
I implore
the forces larger
than myself
for strength
for tenderness
for the right words.

some stuff

I so often get wierded out by the full moon and don't realize its the full moon until I see it glaring at me from the sky.

It gets me all jittery with an erratic energy. It makes me want to produce and be creative and productive but its also distracting. It makes me want to party and dance and flirt. Its a disturbing mixture. But once I realize its the moon then I can calm down and try to channel it a little bit.

Its particularly intense this phase becasue I'm charged up from the fairy festival. There is something so welcoming and restorative about the festival. I don't know what it is. I know its partly because its staged on an organic farm and its very rural and unsophisticated, the grass is untreaded and wild and the trees are full and unmulched and there are little groves and streams and it retains some wildness.

Its also becasue many peple are uninhibited in their dress and freely express themselves. Its wonderful. There are folks who sort of "cheat" and wear their renaissance fest outfit and just add wings. There are people who have clearly spent weeks plannig and designing theie outfit-spectacular fabrics and textures and makeup and wings that express some element of their personality.
There are the most folks who maybe purchase bits and bats pre-made but try to make it their own.
There are club kid fairies and goth fairies and Mary Engelbreit fairies and wiccan fairies and "ren fest" fairies. Old, young, men, women, transgenders, children, farmers, yuppies, crazy people....it is really the most diverse mixture of people I know of.

The majority of the crafts are high caliber and express originality. Fabric work, painting, ceramics, stained glass, jewelry, leather craft...a good selction. And of course food.
I take 1 or 2 quick ganders of the merchandise,than find a good shady spot and park myself to watch the delightful parade of humanity.

It invigorates me, it makes me want to create myself. It makes me want to make stuff. I unfortunately don't have an art work space at the moment and most of my art supplies are scattered haphazardly around the house. I want to consolidate it but I seem to keep getting embroiled in daily house maintenance and not these projects. Do they have a creative people maid service? One that knows what piles to move and what piles to keep? A maid service that just vacuums, cleans toilets and mops and doesn't try to dust around the found fabric flowers, the dishes of beads, the rocks my daughter collected, the dozens of snipped magazine pictures, the stacks of hastily scribbled notes that aren't organized yet, the handbags that dangle from the banister, the mushroom birds and insects that are waiting for their purpose, my tiny stuff collection that spills out of its shadow box, the baskets of junk that haven't been sorted yet? Is there a maid for this kind of household? Because if there is I would hire them immediately and get to work on creating the dining room table/work bench I just dreamed up.

Holy Grail

of people watching today-the Faery Festival. Think cross section of humanity with homemade wings. Also some cool art work/craft work.
PArt of what frustrates me artistically/creatively is a craving for instant gratification but I think this may be rooted in my self esteem/insecurity issues.

I have some ideas for some cool jewelry sculptures. I just don't know how I'll undertake them with Sophie wanting to "help". I want ot play before I lose the images.

I am a little behind on my writing schedule but i gave my self permission. I will get back in the saddle now that Carm's schedule isn't so wacky this week.

And since I don't have anything else to do i've decided the living room needs to be a different color. But that will only be two full days of work at the very most. I think it will be worth it.

Today was also a reminder that caffeine really screws with my mental balance. I drank two cups and I am just whacked. I wasn't thinking since the hot sun was beating on me and the frozen mocha cappucino machine was calling my name...

anticlimax

I'm sunburned, stiff and slightly disappointed. The festival is over. It ran as smoothly as roller skates but there were only about 20 guests there to enjoy it.
Weather was superb, the live music was a real treat and all the vendors were delightful to work with.

It was much more like a a party than a festival.
I have little doubt that next year will be a much different event. Everyone was adamant about returning next year and bringing friends. That did make me feel better.

All the vendors I contacted at the last second who were uable to attend also intend to set up next year. We'll see what happens.

I've hatched another idea for a couple months away. I think it will be a lot of fun. I still need a good name for it. It will be an extreme cuisine/Iron Chef sort of deal to kick off our BugFest. We'll invite half a dozen reknowned local chefs to prepare meals in front of paying guests. There will be some mystery ingredients. The mystery ingredients will be insects!
Of course we'll also offer some "traditional" food but I thought that would be a unique event.

I've got some paperwork to follow thru on this week. Boring data entry stuff and then my nights will be for writing.

The computer issues seem to be sorted out now thankfully! It was getting extremely frustrating.

This not a rhetorical question

How! do you find a balance between the "passive", independent nature of a writing life with a need to be a human being engaged in life?
They seem mutually exclusive.
I know writing requires a life lived or one's writing has no energy or vitality.
But how do you manage time for the solitary work and "daydreaming" that writing requires and interactive, social, goal oriented endeavors?
When I am in the midst of event planning, for example, my mind often feels like its in a state of quiet clamoring. It is much more difficult to find the subtle focus that channels my quality writing.
My writing is important and satisfying but so is the feeling of being engaged in an active project. I want to find a way to become more focused and organized in my "chaotic" work and use that sense of accomplishment ot help propel my writing. USe it to give my writing vim and vigor.

A Word Faery excercise

FYI-Word Faery offers a random list of words to kick start your writing motor. These words can dbe used in any fashion. Here is a poem using the following words:

toothsome, repast, aroma, eyes, lips, spices, passion, simmer, delight, plunge, sauce

A Meal

I feel my eyes simmering,
As he approaches.
I imagine many
Spices, lingering
On the surface of his skin.
Toothsome
Yes, that’s what he is.
Delectable,
A delight.
His aroma,
Encircles me,
My thoughts plunge
To places of darkness
And passion.
His lips alone,
Would make a repast,
See how he moistens them,
As if
Concocting a delicate sauce.

I'll probably be branded a heretic

but it occurred to me while I was reading the Bible in Lego Brick (http://www.thereverend.com/brick_testament/the_gospels/index.html#the_last_supper) that if Jesus were to have the last supper now, with the Disciples, and talk about eating his body and drinking his blood, a doctor would have diagnosed him with a mental illness and given him medication very quickly. What does that say? That Jesus was potentially just a nut or that we've lost our capacity for wonderment at the unique? I favor the latter. Although if I were in a particularly bitter and cynical mood I might say I favor the former.

Now, please don't get me wrong, I don't have anything against Jesus. I think he had a wonderful set of teachings. It was just a thought that crossed my mind and I thought the concept was interesting. A great "what if" premise. What if Jesus was juat sent to the asylum instead of martyred? How different would the world be today?

thanks for reading.

aaaahhhhh!

I am deliriouly happy the sun is shining again. Its still cold and icy and snowy but there is sunshine. Delectable, radiant sunshine. I wish I could throw the windows open and let in some fresh air. I feel like I've been livivng in a cave the past few months.

I am so much more motivated when the sun is shining. When the sun doesn't come out its like I am in low key hibernation mode. I have been successfully keeping the winter blues at bay by spending time in my electric yellow didning room/office and going outdoors at least for a few moments a day.

I am simultaneously delighted and overwhelmed that I have projects on my plate. Some of them are mundane and ordinary things I do around the house....paint and spackle, laundry done completely (put away as well as washed) cooking. But I also have a business venture project with my son. Well, its only an idea at this point but he's been committed to it. Well, during the days off school his commitment lagged, but i won't hold that against him. AND we have a officially launched Intrigue Magazine! I am really excited about this. Its actually a project I've fantasized about for quite some time.

I know the tribulations of my organization crusade are rather dull but it is consuming a signifcant part of my energy-physical and intellectual. I must be making a modicum of progress because it didn't take me a month to clean for Eric's bday party the other night. It was reasonably presentable in an hour.

I've even made some headway thru the many stacks and folders of misc. papers I've saved. I emptied one basket and created some more elaborately piled piles. I am an information packrat. I am always afraid if I throw that 6 year old artist/vendor business card away I will need him for a festival I'll be invited to plan. Now, I haven' planned a festival in at least three years. So you think I'm safe? I don't think so. As soon as I throw the card away the universe will go into overtime producing a reason why I will be planning a festival.

I guess the real question lies in wether or not I want to plan a festival? Problem is, I can't decide.

And so goes the merry go round of my information piles.

And books. don't eve nwaste your breath asking me to get rid of books. Even badly written or useless books. I just can't do it. I can give the maway. But I can not throw one away. I've tried recycling one but I still felt guilty. Books are sacred or something to me.

Speaking of sacred, I 've decided I need a little more ritual and beauty in my life. I haven't yet decided what that will involve. I feel like maybe once this organization maelstrom is finished I can start contemplating some routines...maybe consistent yoga or write everyday or meditate. I want to get back to my walking. Running up and down stairs a dozen times although cardiovascularly healthy is not conducive to meandering thought. Walking is superb for that.

I also joined the climbing gym. I 've climbed once so far and was dismally disappointed in my performance. I know its been over (gasp) 20 years since the last time Irocked climbed, but geez, I thoguht I was in a little better shape. The up side of this is I know that if I stick with climbing I WLL GET BUFF. It works everything. I like thefact that you feel like you've accomplished sometihng with your body when you get to the top of the wall. And you are only competing with yourself.

Oh yeah, I baked two loaves of bread last night. It was a box mix sort of...I still had to knead it and mix the yeast and wait for everything to rise. I refuse to pay 4$ for a loaf of bread that doesn't have hydrgenated oils or high fructose corn syrup in it. I will just bake it myself. ( I don't know how practical this declaration is but I am declaring it anyway).

So, I've got a lot on my to do list but thats when I'm happiest. At least thats what I've come to believe.

today

while sitting in my truck
parked by the curb
squeezing a quiet moment
out of my daughter's
car seat nap
the mundane
was split
as I gazed noncommitally
thru the windshield
a shape approached overhead
I assumed a gull
something commonplace
but instead
like destiny aimed at my being
a young
red tailed hawk
bulleted towards me
nearly eye to eye
and swooped slightly
and over the roof of my truck
giving me a crystalline glance as his soft
beige and tawny speckled belly.
It was perfectly beautiful
in its surprise
in the way it punctured
my distractedness

it made me feel glad to be alive
to appreciate the moment
its fleeting nature
I needed that quick gasp
the moment of pure surprise.

Death has been lurking
both parents
having heart
episodes and/or surgery
a remembered dream of my mothers' death
an NPR show
today, interviewing an author
who discussed his multiple
brushes with death
excerpts of a poet who
though aged
is not afraid
only assured of Death
feels lucky
and thankful to be alive
particularly
violent highway accidents
this week
immobilizing traffic
the flu
trying to walk the fine line
between
protecting my toddler daughter
from danger
and forfeiting
my teenage son
his experience
the dark certainty
that the weak and helpless
children, elderly,
are routinely
beaten
lost to this world
and
all of the clamoring
to rid the world of terror/ists
beef up security
close the borders
this race to protect our citizens
our homeland
the bottom line
is
we're trying
to push away
shunning
our inevitable death.

Finally

after a long, long hiatus, we had a FAMILY evening last night. It was completely unplanned and very low key. BUT, we were all in the same room together, engaged in a goofy tv show. Eric wasn't being held there against his will, Carm wasn't badgering him, I wasn't nagging and Sophie was totally cheerful. It was completly and totally pleasant. I wish I knew how to recreate it but I won't try too hard. I tried to bathe consciously in the glow of the moment. But I did want to record the occurence of said moment for posterity.

ruminating

This is the crappiest time of year for me. I suffer from the winter blues. Its totally because the days get short and I can't stand it.
So this year I am trying to be logical about it and use the time I feel stuck inside to really get my home in order. My family and I are veteran pack rats. Slobs, although I have made some remarkable strides in modifying that behavior.
I've managed to keep my sink unluttered for nearly a week
( however i confess i haven't done much cooking this week).
I've also made the bed every day this week which NEVER happened before here or anywhere I lived my entire life. SO see, there is some progress.

I just read an interesting novel called Juniper Tree Burning. I was drawn to it because the main character had an uncharacteristic childhood and I wanted to see how she wrote about it. I enjoyed her choice not to relate a chronological timeline but to flip flop between past and present. It worked for the story.

Unfortunately it dredged up some of my wierdo past and i had a hard time sleeping some nights. Just because you always wonder if you've made the right choices, and you wonder what kind of dominoe effects you've set into motion. I think one is probably much more prone to that kind of evaluating if you have kids of your own. You SO worry about your actions and the consequences it has for your children.

I also have a problem sometimes with noticing the anguish that exists on the planet. It seems as if there should be a clinical term for a condition that is characterized by too much empathy for suffering. It wouldn't be so bad if I picked a cause and made some contribution to it wether my time or my money, but I don't, I am paralyzed by the enormity of the situation.
This isn't to say that I am depresed and unable to function-its just that I get waves of wondering why the dark side of life has to be so dark. Why do kids have to suffer? Why are people who inflict pain so often just another round in a cycle of pain? How can those cycles be broken? can they be broken?

And then I wonder how can I organize my art supplies in a way that are accessible to me but not to my daughter Sophie? How will I get the Christmas decorations put away in an orderly way without her "helping" me? What do I do with all these different piles of information I've saved in case I need them and they seem only to be taking up space?

What do I do with all the pages of notes for the different business ideas I've had? What do I do with all the tiny pieces of paper I wrote on in the numerous awful desk jobs I've had, that mostly complain about said horrible desk job? They might contain some jewel, some kernel of unrealized truth?

And finally, what do you do when the identity you've worn for so long doesn't seem to fit anymore? How do you shed dead skin painlessly and without regret?

Any insights appreciated

getting a grip

Slowly, ever, so painfully slowly, I am getting a grip on the some of the feeling of chaos in my life. I feel like I get two steps forward and fall four steps back a lot, but it works out to incremental progress nevertheless.

The thing I've learned about myself is that it can take me forever to select a goal. I've had a couple year stretch now of flopping around in a sort of goal less void. Of course I have the daily goals, wash dishes, read, that sort of thing. and the big broad goal-keep my kids in good shape-but I didn't have a specific, attainable goal for myself. The nice thing is that i can feel something evolving. I'm getting the tiniest whisper of a desire for a project.

BUT before I give this project full room to romp and play I have commanded myself to get this place organized!

vacuum

I feel like I am incapable of creating in a vacuum. Even though I KNOW I would get so much more accomplished if I could just sit at my notebook, I am so insecure I need some instant gratification of people reading my work. Maybe I'll start posting it here.
I guess it could be argued thats the whole point of writing-for someone to read whatever it is. But shouldn't I have the patience to re-read and offer up the best I can offer rather than works in progress?
I read some very inspiring work today, some Maxine Hong Kingston and Alice Walker. I had some deep thoughts but no notebook to write them in.
I keep thinking to myself I would be happier if I were writing regularly. That I wouldn't feel so clogged.

holidays

Its been so wonderful to have an adult to talk to during the day. I love Sophie to pieces but complete sentences are fun too.

I felt a little conflicted about the holidays this year. I was really happy that we weren't rushing madly through malls and other crazed shoppers but I also didn't feel like it was Christmas. I felt better once the tree and decorations were up, because well, I love colorful, tacky glitzy decorations. We don't go overboard but I enjoy what we have so far. One day I would like to be one of those crazy people with astronomical electricity bills because they have a bazillion lights...

I was really pleased that the Spa Day was such a hit. Everyone enjoyed it so much they want to make it a monthly event. I guess massage will do that to a woman.We chose shiatsu massage and we were very pleased with it. Mike happily massaged 7 women and 1 guy right in a row.
I've never been to a hoity toity spa but I can say I enjoy it in the comfort and casual atmosphere of my home.

It was a difficult week before Christmas because Sophie got sick with one of the lesser flus. Eric did too but it hardly phased him. Soph was miserable all week. A relentless low grade fever and two nights of a high fever. Coughing, snottiness and not wanting to leave the sofa. I was her second skin. High fever nights were no fun. she didn't do anything, not even tell us "no". I was SO relieved when she started to get perky again.

Although it appears I'll have to get used to stepping away from Christmas shopping insanity, I enjoyed the lower key immensely. I think next year I may even try my hand at making some gifts. Our ornament making party seemed extra fun this year becasue we could relax and enjoy each others' company and not feel that we should be shopping.

I'm feeling so wierd about Soph growing up. She has weaned it appears. Which delights me becasue we're sleeping better but its her first real step away from me. Thats hard.

She is already behaving as a terrible two although she isn't yet. "No" is the prime part of her vocabulary and she's trying to do everything by herself. Cute but can be infuriating too.

I'm loving the time with Carm. He's had a big chunk of time off and I love having his company. We may not be inseparable on the sofa but we can hug and kiss when it strikes us and he can lend a hand w/Soph so I can finish a thought.

I had a fantasy about totally clutter freeing the house. That won't happen but we did get some things done.

and writing on any consistent basis is a fantasy too. Partly out of my own laziness and partly because of distractions.

I'm tired of feeling like I don't get anything pleasurable accomplished and I 'm tired of Eric's behaviour.
I keep deciding I am not going to spend so much time in the house and near tv and then the weather gets crappy. Its also challenging to find toddler friendly indoor things to do. Today is a perfect example-we have free time and can't think of anything to do. I hate that!

I have all these little to do's that just keep piling up. I need to burn some discs and mail them. I should send out some new years or something cards to a couple people. I need to get my to do's in one place and streamline them.

No New Year's Eve plan as of the moment but we usually don't go wild anyhow.

some stuff

My e-world is expanding. That is good news. It keeps the feeling of social isolation to a miniumum.

I am making progress in the daily house maintenance department. I've think I've gotten filth under control. Clutter is another issue altogether. It will require some creative storage because I totally forget what I pack away. I'm visual. I like to see my stuff.

and just in case you wondered, I'm most like this X Men character:


You are Beast!

You are brilliant and extremely clever. You can
handle almost any problem swiftly and
efficiently. You are devoted to philosophy and
are always up for a good discussion.
Sometimes, though, your anger gets the best of
you and you upset those whom you care about.


Which X-Men character are you most like?
brought to you by Quizilla

In Case You Wondered

I'm this kind of kisser..... (if the paste works you'll read it)


You have a surprise kiss! Your partner is always
pleasantly pleased to have you jump outta no
where to dote them with a fun peck on the cheek
or more passionate embrace. super markets and
work places are your favorite places to attack
your loved one with all your love =p


What kind of kiss are you?
brought to you by Quizilla


I can't believe it worked!! yay!

woo hoo! made a snowman!

Well, most of a snowman. Its two tiered but no features yet. If it doesn't rain later in the day we'll go out and give him ayes and stuff. Some eyes too.
It was Sophie's first snow storm. She wasn't quite sure what to do. Mom was a bit ga ga over FINALLY having good snow man snow. So its sitting on our back porch and I'm going to take a picture of him but I don't have a scanner or a digital camera so I doubt I would post it if I

going to go read some other blogs now.

flogger

I think I'm in the market for a good flogger. We need someone to come here and beat us senseless until we figure out how to clean up after ourselves. I mean its really out of control. 98% of the time, if someone "popped by" I would be mortified by the state of my house. Not just kid clutter, well, ok, there is kid clutter. Is there such a thing as kid filth? There's always a fine patina of crumbs, and dried play doh and cat hair and tiny shreds of paper. I guess I can understand that. But, I can rarely see the floor in our bedroom. Everything is always on the counter and not in cupboards in our kitchen. The sink usually full with who knows what dishes. Some from today, some from yesterday I just didn't have the energy to finish, a couple days of rinsed recycling on the drying rack.
My desk is just a cacophany of misplaced crap, pens that may or may not write, cds, cassette tapes I don't even listen to, jewelry wire, my engagement ring, a paper lantern......I don't get it.
So really, If someone could just come over and beat us regularly , maybe we could get the hang of it. If I go to leave the dinner dishes in the sink over night-just a few good slaps might remind me.
I really do apologize if some of you had horrible parents that disciplined you that way for real...this is just my bizarre fantasy life and I didn't mean to open old wounds.
Now, my mother might argue that was how it was in her Cinderella life. She was her parents scullery maid and vowed as an adult never to lift a finger to clean unnecessarily.
( while typing I realize Soph has dusted the entire floor of the house in molecules of shredded soy cheese)

And by the way, I can tell you that even a REALLY impassioned motivational conversation doesn't get the kitchen floor to clean itself. I just thought I would save you some trouble.

my kick-ass-less husk

you ever get the feeling that your kick-ass-ness has left the building? I do. Far, far too often. Thing is I don't have a clue where it went or how to get it back. I could delude myself into thinking its maturity but it feels like Alzheimers or something.. I just feel like a big fat sort of mildewy dish rag sometimes.
I know mothering a toddler is demanding. I know mothering a teenager is demanding. (it just got more demanding by the way).
But I am sick of just feeling blechy. So the un-blechy! movemnt will soon be underway.
I am desperate to find some writing compadres. Like in real life so we can bitch and moan and then scribble furiously. That will be a priority.
I NEEd some clothes. I hate most of the clothes I own. The other half are either too big or too small. I seem to have been given a figure that no one creates clothes for. My shoulders are obscenely broad, I have small boobs, I 've got some hip and a belly.
I usually want to scream after clothes hunting. I keep swearing I'm just going to buy all black clothes -turtle necks and sweaters in winter and black shorts and t shirt in the summer. But I crave color and spunk and snazz and flair and that doesnt get satisfied with an all black wardrobe.
And I am mortified to realize I have had the same exact hair ALL my life (i mean I looked at a picture of me seven years old and I have the same hair), except for a brief stint of pale pink streaked hair this summer.
I just might commit violence if I don't get my clutter under control soon. I can never find anything when I want it but I find cool stuff when I can't use it.
I keep vowing I'm going to go out and walk ( I don't HAVE TO now because I don't have a dog anymore) and I get all motivated but its been bitterly windy cold and guess what I can't find a winter coat I like.
I think I am going to start going back to yoga classes. My shoulders feel like steel rods. No movement-I walk like a body builder. Can you say unresolved stress?
I REALLY like Christmas but I feel like I only have about ten minutes a day to myself to do any of the things I would like to do. I have my annual christmas ornament decorating party and I wonder how I can pull it off. I've made no progress towards the christmas spa day for the women. Will it be last second holiday purchasing? NO! I forbid that. Besides I seem to do best under pressure. Will I ever grow out of my procrastination? Not likely.
Well this concludes my bitch and moan session, I'm annoying myself.

off to buy a yoga mat.

mmmmm, the holidays

I guess lots of blogs will be addressing the holidays. Personally I enjoy them more than I loathe them. There are political and commercial reaons not to support them but at this point in my life these are traditions I'm not ready to put to rest.
Thanksgiving is actually fairly pleasant. We do it pot luck style and invite whoever needs a seat at a table that year we know of. Folks are usually on their good behaviour, not much drinking and no football to speak of, so its pretty mellow.
I do like to set a nice table but since we often sit somewhere with a plate on our lap I don't put much effort into it.
I guess its boiled down to a yearly day my twisted family gets together to eat. I haven't made many attempts to politicize it. Most of us agree the Natives got screwed. I don't know how familiar everyone is with factory farming but my blood doesn't seem to be very revolutionary. They're all stuck in their retail or cubicle jobs and just don't seem to have the energy for anything else. A lot of un-addressed depression lurking too but that's another whole thing.
Christmas is my second favorite holiday. It's in a toss up with Halloween. I think I like anything that's dramatic. I love to decorate the house. Although last year not much happened. I hope this year I at least get the outside lights up. I will probably opt for unbreakable ornaments on the tree. We get a live tree, and then plant one somewhere in the spring. Tried the artificial one year and our cats destroyed it. And I missed the smell of pine. I have to confess though-one of the items I'm aching to get my hands on is an aluminum tree with the color wheel. I NEED it. Its a nostalgia thing. I'd have both.
I like everything associated with Christmas except me caroling and the retail insanity. I think this year we've come up with a good plan. The girls in thefamily have put our funds together and we're going to a full day home spa. Hiring a masseuse and everything. We get pampered, we have togetherness and we're not stuck in the stores. I'm looking forward to it.
I want to do a boy group thing but I am flummoxed and can't think of something they would all like....
Last year, we ONLY shopped at local merchants. It was a lot less crowded and I didn't feel like I was contributing directly to a monopoly. I'll shop for the kids that way this year too.
I also have my annual decorating party. We all get together at my place and make Christmas ornaments. We have the tried and true glass ball projects and we try something different each year. Even the non-artists really seem to enjoy themselves. We listen to goofy Christmas music, have coffe, tea and chocolate chip cookies and whatever goodies are handy. Lots of laughter and companionship....the best!.
Christmas day is usually kinda nuts because I've ALWAYS driven from house to house to visit. I have no idea what its like to wake up and stay home.

I'm off to the grocery store to get ingredients to try some new recipes.

identity

I've been thinking all day today about what identity I want to have here. Do I want one that most mirrors me or do I want one that's very different? If I try to be fake I think it will be obvious. And there's already quite a bit of artifice around. I think my time is best spent being authentic.
This isn't to say I can't be dramatic or theatrical or plastered in makeup if the mood strikes me.
Let's look at the different identities I can catalogue:
mother-to my 15 year old son Eric and my 17 month old daughter Sophie. Mothering consumes the most of my physical, mental and emotional energy. It is the one that is the most rewarding when I feel I am being good at it. It is the most unusual because it can give me instant gratification but it will take many years to see if I've done any lasting damage or I was essentially successful at nurturing well rounded human beings.
wife-this is my second most consuming identity. It still feels funny to call myself that. Even the second time around. It seems like an archaic fuddy duddy term. Not modern enough or something. I am comfortably certain there will be no third time. I am confident of this fact because should this attempt fail I will either be in jail, in hiding or will have become a Tibetan lesbian nun.
a grown child-I have parents. This fact is sometimes astounding to me. Primarily because I cannot imagine the two people romantically involved. They've been divorced forever. I think they were married a total of a year or so. Oddly enough, at least to me, I was a planned child.
sister-i have two brothers and two sisters. Not much of a relationship with the older brother and sister. The reason is a long story illustrating the roots of the screwed up dynamics of my family.
friend-I have some groovy wonderful freinds and wouldn't be the person I am today without them.
compulsive helper-it both satisfies me and makes me crazy.
therapist-it seems to be my karma
creative person, specifically writer-I've been stringing words on paper since I was tiny. One day,(goal five years)I'll have my book on bookstore shelves and I'll make some money. I like to do visual stuff too: collage, beadwork, photography, spiff stuff up with glitter and other paraphernalia. I constantly rearrange furniture and paint rooms or furniture different colors (well it was constantly before Sophie was born).
people watcher-ok maybe its not an identity exactly but I LOVE it and its something I always do.
frustrated optimist-I don't want to get into a litany of labels for myself but my heart breaks daily because of how human beings try to boss nature around. And daily I'm astounded by human cruelty. But, I don't think human beings or society must stay entrenched. I think change is possible if not imperative. I'm not sure if I can change the world but I know I can take responsibility for myself and my choices and that is a place to start.
critter lover-can't pass anything pettable and want to pet the unpettable.
bibliophile-can't throw a book away
sexual being-some times more than others but always fascinated.
enjoy music-particularly live.
partier-no not the chemical kind, although I have been known to drink Kahlua once in awhile. I just love to pick a reason, set a mood and invite folks over. But don't go expecting a Martha Stewart kind of shindig...maybe more like The Frugal Gourmet meets Sharon Osbourne.

That's a pretty good review for starters. Obviously you'll get to know me better as this progresses. And when I figure out how you can respond if the mood strikes you, I'll get to know you better too. I guess you can always send an email-sp8cemunky@att.net

oh yeah, I think I volunteered for a campaign for MoveOn.org today. I'll let you know what I end up doing.

cya!

part II

Let's talk about some of the reasons I want to blog. I want to blog to create community, even if its virtual. I want to explore politics and activism . I want to find some like minded creatures. That's really the tough one. I feel eternally on the fringe. If I am in a radical group...i'm not AS radical. If I'm in a conservative group..oooh I'm radical, or freaky, or hippy, or just not part of that tribe. It never used to bother me. But, now, well, its just old. It would be nice to just click with someone and then have a relationshp evolve naturally. And it would be exceptional if that person lived nearby. It would be nice to find an enclave of folks who enjoy the activities I do.

I know part of my angst is never having a relationship mature into what I had with my teen age best friend. Who has silently disappeared off the face of the Earth and who I fear is dead or in some nasty place. We became friends because during a fateful phonecall I talked him out of jumping off his roof. We were inseparable after that. We did the eighties thing together. He lived with me. He came out of the closet to me. I drove all the way to Virginia Beach to visit him when he lived with his twisted military father (who thought we needed another war like Viet Nam, that was a good war). He came back to live with my mother while I lived elsewhere. We were tight.

But, I haven't had that comradery in too many years. My hubby is a fantastic guy but he's not the same. A girl needs a confidante, ya know.

Don't get me wrong. I do meet cool people and I do have some wonderful friends. Its just you miss having a best buddy.

So on a political note, I heard Kucinich on the radio yesterday. He is a Democratic candidate for president. I liked what he had to say. He is an underdog and may not even get a nomination. I am considering voluteering for his campaign. I'm curious how others feel about him.

I think I'm going to go spend some time learning how to use this Blog and set up all my options.

Til next time