Happy Halloween!

I just realized that daylight savings time doesn't start on Sunday, it ends. Oh, well. I'm not up on all these new fangled ideas.

Trick-or-treat was such a blast last night. I almost forget the excitement of it from being a child, so in that, it's hard to recall if it can possibly compare to watching your own child's sheer joy.

Comparatively with last year when we barely managed to make it halfway down our street in two hours, last night we hit every house in the entire neighborhood in under an hour. I suspect it was because we had a little gang of kids who didn't stop running except to get the candy and say thank-you. And if a woman opened the door, Mort would throw in, "You're pretty!" My little Casanova. Between three sets of parents, we had Darth Vader, two Batmans, black Spiderman, red Spiderman and a prisoner. So, it was a pretty funny little band of superheroes (Mort couldn't see through his mask and quickly handed that and his lightsaber to me, so with his cape, he got lumped into the superhero category) and then the lone prisoner. Especially because all the adults handing out candy got it and commented on it, but the kids didn't get it at all.

And then today will be a blast because the weather is going to be sunny and 66 and we have a Halloween party with all our friends and most of it was going to be outside with crafts and hayrides and goofing off, weather permitting. And all the adults dress-up and J. the party-thrower, leaves no stone unturned in throwing a Martha Stewart worthy bash. I can't wait. Mort seems to think that somehow it's still connected with more trick-or-treating and that he's going to get more candy today. And considering he doesn't really eat candy, even when it's offered to him, I think he's just going off the excitement of other children regarding candy. And getting to spend a day with my friends is like having a big 'ol bucket of candy for me, so we all win.

Trick or treat, beeyotch.

I am so very glad that daylight savings time is this Sunday. I'd rather it got dark early than wake-up in the darkness. I need my sunlight. I'm like a reverse vampire. It seems like it's been forever and that daylight savings time should have happened quite some time ago. Lo and behold, I just read that this is the longest period ever recorded leading up to daylight savings time. You probably already knew that. I just can't keep up with everything. I've been extremely busy negotiating with my husband about which treats we're giving out. I wanted to do healthy. He wanted to go whole hog straight up candy.

His rationale is that our kid's not eating it and that when kids go trick or treating, they WANT to get all those forbidden treats. And I do have to agree. However, I wanted to give out bags of pretzels and boxes of raisins. I know, I'm the most unfun mom ever. And my rationale was that if our son filled his trick or treat bag with those kinds of treats, he could eat to his heart's content. The compromise is a big bowl combined with pretzels and various no-holds barred candy that the kiddos can choose from. Yes, I'm well-aware we're going to have ALOT of pretzels at the end of the night.

When I was a kid, there was a house in our neighborhood that we never went to because its owner would stand in the doorway in his undershirt handing out handfulls of free floating potato chips from a bag. But there was another house that gave out candy apples. I could never find that house. I saw kids with the apples, so I know it wasn't a neighborhood urban legend. Those were the days when you could go trick or treating freely without the parentals. You were safe. Or at least we didn't know enough back then to not be safe.

I think Mort will have to be 17 before he can go trick or treating without me. Although at that age he;ll probably be at a party, so I'll have to stalk him outside the house's window or hide behind trees if it's up in the mountains like in the days of yore. Y'know, just to make sure he's not eating too much candy.

Just when you sleep through the night for two nights in a row

Your child wakes-up at 2:30 and that's it, you're up. So, you head downstairs to the couch to watch the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air  and try to let the laugh track lull you back to sleep, but it's hard because it's the one where Will falls in love with a rock star and misses his own surprise party and then you hear the soft hesitant padding of feetie pajamas on the steps and ta-da: it's said child. He still can't sleep, so he clambers over you and gets under the blanket and tells you about his bad dream and then decides you're taking up too much of the couch, so you end-up lying precariously on the edge while he sprawls his little body all over the couch, hogs the pillow, and flings his legs over you. And eventually the two of you fall asleep in this position, which is actually rather sweet, because how many years do you have before your son is too old and too big to snuggle up with his mommy and trust her that she will not let the bad dreams in? So, even though you're exhausted, it's nice to wake-up with his knees in your stomach and his arm flung across your face. Because he's your baby.

Blick

The time has come to cease the outdoor exercise and fire up the treadmill. I'm not really looking forward to that. Even though I think I get a more intense workout on the treadmill because of the incline, I love the sunshine and fresh air part of outdoor exercise. It doesn't feel so much like work. Sigh.

Oh, Elisabeth Hasselback. You're just so dumb.

Sweetie-pie, can we just remember our place in the world and please stop talking about grown-up stuff? You're just the "pretty one" from Season Two of Survivor who didn't win. You were a shoe designer. You aren't qualified to talk about things in public, no matter who decided to put you in the ever revolving chair of "pretty but uninformed girl" on The View.

You first fell under my disapproving eye when you, a MOTHER, went on your little tirade about the yuck factor of breast feeding in public.(No, I don't watch The View, I read about it in the newspaper and I know Barbara backed you up, but she's from the generation who was told formula is best, plus she didn't have the option of breast feeding her child. And she's 110.) Now, honey, no matter what your big  'ol football player hubby tells you, that's what your boobs are actually made to do--feed your children. By making a fuss about breast feeding in public, you're sexualizing the act of women feeding their child. And that's just silly. Everyone knows that if it's possible for you to breast feed that breast is best for both mother and child. Furthermore, if you breast feed, you know that you need to do it on demand, which means you just may be in public when your child is hungry. It happens. It's not a sexual act, okay toots?

Now you have pissed me off because you have actually made me feel sorry for Sarah Palin that you were chosen to introduce her. That's right. Your terrible introduction of her was just that bad. Good Lord girl, did you decide to not write anything down or maybe do a little research or practice in front of the mirror? The one thing you chose to focus upon was the supposed criticism of her wardrobe? I've read an awful lot of criticism about her, but I've only read one thing about her wardrobe and that was how much it costs AND it was lumped in with the outrageous costs of each candidate's wardrobe, Obama included. And then you, the most sexist git on morning television, a woman who can't even support a woman's right to feed her child when it's hungry, have the gall to call that sexism? And you follow that up by pointing out that Palin's best quality is that she wears an American flag on her lapel?!?

I feel certain that Sarah Palin wished she had her high power rifle to shoot you. That's the best you could come up with--that she wears an American flag pin? Hey, I have one too, should I run for VP? Granted, I'm not sure what else you could have said that was positive about her, but that's not my job.  It was yours. Maybe they should have chosen the other reality show  Republican chick for your job: Rachel from The Real World San Francisco. 

This and this and this too

I write because I have to, I write because I've forgotten how, I write because it used to define me, I write because somewhere buried deep beneath it all may be a writer still. I do have a love affair with words and the way they can fit together so intricately like the pieces of a puzzle, so seamlessly the reader is unaware that there are words at all.

My son loves words as well; he loves when he figures out the riddle of a word that has several meanings or a word that sounds the same but is not the same word. He loves for us to read to him. Before he could even crawl, he and I used to lie on our backs with a book held above our faces and I would read to him and it entertained him for hours.

Does nature or nurture define a child? Does our son's musical ear come from my husband's genes or just my husband's love of music? Does his need of words come from my ever present book in hand or from his own curiosity? I think it is a little of both.

I think children are born who they are, but I also think so much of them is shaped by their nutrition in and out of the womb, their exposure to life, their parents' interests...Mort is by nature a genuinely happy person. It is who he is. He came out into the world not crying, but looking around and stretching and yawning. He latched on like he had been doing it his entire life. He wakes up with a smile on his face. He shrugs things off. He doesn't care about coloring inside the lines. He tells me not to worry. He tells me things will be okay. He is a little smiling ball of zen. Maybe it was all the secret brews of fresh herbs my doula had me drinking throughout my pregnancy. Maybe it was all the pregnancy and baby yoga. Maybe it was because he was wanted so desperately. Maybe it is because he had been to Heaven and back. Maybe it is because he is Mort.

Soccer Season Has Come to an End

Last night was great for many reasons, the largest being that my sister made a surprise visit to see the last soccer game of the season, which made us all happy, Madame Stella included.

I think we had a wonderful soccer team because all of the parents just wanted our children to have fun and we cheered just as hard for the opposing team as our own. The kids were definitely a happy bunch because when they weren't on the field, they were busy playing tag, doing forward rolls and just generally goofing off with each other.

Unfortunately, not all the teams were like that, but thankfully, we were not assigned to one of those. Last night's opposing team was pretty rough. The players were little brutes who deliberately pushed, tripped, elbowed and shoved our kids even when they didn't have the ball! It was definitely strange behavior because if it was a proper soccer game, they would have gotten thrown out of the game for playing like that. One kid actually targeted the most talented player on our team and gave him a bloody nose and the coach still didn't take him out of the game! I don't know if the coach taught them to do that or just ended up with a bunch of bullies? To make matters worse, the kids on the opposing team were actually very good soccer players with an impressive skill level, so that made that kind of behavior all the more bizarre. Ugh. I want to support my son in whatever he wants to do and he has fun and says he loves it and he's sad that the season is over, but if we ended up on one of those teams next year...I guess we'll just wait and see.

The team was thrilled with their gift bags (they were filled with raisins, granola bars, fake tattoos, kazoos, and a ball that sticks when you throw it against the wall) and every single one of them immediately jammed the kazoo into their mouth. It made for some pretty great pictures. It made me so happy to see how excited they were. One mother, however, obviously did not appreciate my effort. When she saw me put down the box of the gift bags, she said right to my face, "Well, isn't someone the overachiever parent." I just smiled at her, but what a jerk. Um...hi, yeah, I was on snack duty last night, it was the last game of the season and I was our team's Team Parent. Wouldn't it have been a little weird if I didn't do something special? The other times I was on snack duty I gave out raisins or granola bars the same as everyone else. Oh well, the kids loved seeing their picture on their bag and the other parents thought they were great. Can't let one bad apple spoil the bunch or some other cliche, right?

Right side of the bed

Maybe I just needed a good night of sleep because I feel much better today.

The gift bags turned out very cute. I think the kids will like them.

Blue blue blue

Ooof. Feeling waaay down and I don't know why. I tried to cheer myself up. I'm making adorable little goodie bags for some pretty great kids. I'm going on a date this weekend. I broke out one of my various faux leopard fur jackets to wear today. I listened to Amy Winehouse sing "Monkey Man" about 24 times. I kissed a little forehead that was snuggled under a blanket. 

But, no dice. 

Oh, well. Carry on, as Tim Gunn would say.

First fire of the season.

Is 4am an improvement?

Self-fulfilling fear. When I went to bed last night, I was worried I would awake at an unreasonable hour. Surprise! It's going to be a busy day, so I was fairly certain I wouldn't last more than five hours and I was right. Grrr.

At least it's now 5, so I can feel justified turning on the coffee. And I have a pre or post gymnastics Starbucks excuse.

And yes, owl hooting outside the window, I can hear you. Don't think I'm giving Stella up without a fight, though.

And while I'm trying to be Sally Positive Thinker, my back doesn't hurt today as I had feared it would after all my shoveling and hoeing and ...I don't even know the name of one of the tools I was using to work on taking down the garden. It's not close to being done, but after four wheelbarrow trips, my back was starting to protest. It's been acting up again lately and I have no idea why. I had to get my prescription refilled for the first time in a loooong time and it was so bad that I couldn't even lift Mort into a proper sleeping position when I was tucking him in the other night.

It's such an annoying injury. There's no cause for it as far as any doctor can tell me and I don't fit the criteria for someone with a herniated disc (ie, no dramatic accident,too young, too thin, too active and too fit to have this happen--and yet it did). I was treated for it three years ago at this point and put in my months and months at physical therapy (could have lived in Italy for 2 years for what that cost, thank-you health insurance company) and I do the damn exercises four times a day and avoid sitting (as they tell me that seems to be a trigger for me) and still it can suddenly knock me out of commission. I gave up my once ever present high heels (the nine month pregnant woman wearing 4 inch heeled sandals to Lamaze? That was me.) , I gave up my yoga (save for the cobra pose I have to do while reading or watching a movie so that I don't offend my back by sitting), what more am I supposed to do to keep this from happening? Ugh. Anyway, I didn't mean to devote so many words to a jerky disc that's let me down.

I'm whipping up a batch of organic turkey chili and wheat bread for my wonderful friends today, for which I am very excited. Because Duke works from home, I spend an obscene amount of time in their homes (thank goodness or else I'd go crazy) and never have the chance to reciprocate their always lovely hospitality. I think the last time I had everyone here was the Christmas Party! So, I'm glad to be able to feed you guys today and provide a place for us to hang. But don't think I'm turning on the heat. You know how I feel about that. Just bring an extra sweater. You'll be fine. Builds character.

Some people in my house, however, are big wimps and think heat is more than a luxury item. Some people complain that they're cold or that the kid is shivering and turn on the heat. They just need to subscribe to the patented JEK school of life. No heat means you can leave that dish of ice cream beside your bed and it will still be waiting for you, nice and frozen when you awake. They'll thank me someday when they toughen-up. People who grow-up with heated houses are soft. Next thing you know, they want to go to the doctor when they're sick. Subscribe to The JEK School of Life and you won't even get sick. You will be able to live on coffee, Cheeze-Its and Schlitz and be as strong and healthy as a ...well, I'd say horse, but aren't most of them pretty doped-up with shit? Alrighty then, horse it is.

Sheep go to Heaven. Goats go to hell. Hey, man, I don't make the rules. It is what it is.

The time has come...

I guess we must have had one too many chilly nights in a row, because all of my lovely, seemingly hearty veggies are suddenly looking pretty pickled and petrified on their vines. I guess I need to tackle the garden take-down. 

The rabbits will be bummed, though. They won't have the opportunity to outwit me at every turn and get through every barricade I erect and evade my clueless terrier. How is it that she can hear the UPS truck if it's in the next town over but she doesn't notice a rabbit sitting a foot away?

I'll tell you why: it's because she's smart. Terriers are known for being bright and Stella has evolved to a level where she has actually overcome her own instincts. Why should she waste her precious time chasing after a mangy flea ridden rodent when she can stretch out in a patch of sun-filled grass and wait for her people to bring her dinner? I mean, she's killed before and quite frankly, it's easier to let your human serve up the chow. And it tastes better. Not as much grizzle.

Things I'm loving

• Reconnecting with long lost friends on Facebook. I'm so happy to have communicated with people I haven't heard from in 20 years but had always hoped were doing well.
• Proper fall weather.
• Waking up and not having to go anywhere.
• Walking downstairs and getting to have my family, coffee and the newspaper all at one shot.
• Switching from sandals to clogs
• Scarves and jean jackets---thank-you S, for your cast-off white one!
• Feetie pajamas
• Days spent outdoors with my best friends. Days spent anywhere with my best friends.
• Hot soup (okay,warm soup;I do like everything to be room temperature)
• Stella snoring after a long walk
• Mort singing
• Having back-up camera batteries when mine need to be recharged
• Sunlight streaming through my dirty windows
• the fun new songs to which I'm listening
• All my friends' children. They are all such real little people!
• Obnoxiously oversized rings
• My plants that keep growing despite lack of care
• The deer in the field
• Floppy hats
• Riding a bike with flat tires
• Leaves slowly drifting to the ground like they're being carefully dropped at perfect intervals for a scene in a movie
• Paint splattered ladders
• The Halloween decorations that I put up under duress
• my vegetables that insist on growing despite the cold
• ponchos
• that I found my sunglasses!

A beautiful nature walk today.

No animal sightings, but it was gorgeous. And my hair smells like snow.

"The Happening" was not only bad, it contradicted its own message

Okay, say people are under attack from the plants of the Earth because of our absolute disregard for nature and our systematic destruction of all that lives here. Then why would a person who lived with no electricity and who grew all her own food and took nothing more from the land than what she needed to survived be killed by the plants? Wouldn't that person be the one that got to live? Just a bad movie. Interesting premise. Bad movie.

I am unfortunately an intolerant person. And what's more, I have no desire to change. I find myself infuriated by people who disagree with me on topics such as same-sex marriage and a woman's right to choose. Now I know that some of my best friends most likely disagree with me 100%. For some reason, that's okay, because I love them and they love me and I know that their hearts are pure and we simply do not discuss such things. But as for people I know on only a superficial level or don't know at all? I feel a tightening in my chest and stomach and I am overwhelmed by contempt for their ignorance and intolerance and hate.  I want to feel sorry for them. I want to believe in their right to their own opinion. I really do. But I cannot. Which makes me as intolerant as they. Except that I'm right. And unfortunately, I live in the midst of a great wash of hate. 

I went to a Halloween Parade the other night. (yes, there's no rhyme or reason to what is flying through my fingers today.) It was beyond horrible.  Which makes me sad. I thought it used to be decent? When my husband and I lived across the river, we went to a Halloween Parade when I was pregnant and it was so good and we drank hot chocolate and ate soft pretzels and laughed and clapped and dreamed of the day we would share the experience with our wee one. I don't know when that day will happen.

It's chilly today, but beautiful. I think we might try to take the dog for a walk at a nature preserve before all the leaves drop.

Fall Rocks

What a fantastic day! I could not have asked for one more bit of happiness. To top it all off, I went out to my garden, and lo and behold, I had a bounty awaiting my harvest. Three kinds of peppers, lettuce, tomatoes and a watermelon. What's more, the pepper plants were covered with tiny white flowers, meaning that regardless of my dismantling plans, they are planning offering up some more food. And here I had written it off. I apologize, my dear friend.  Thank-you for your determination!

Huh. I thought she was dead.

Who knew Nancy Reagan was alive? Okay, well maybe you did. I forgot all about her and the way she helped run the country through astrologists and psychics. And used Drew Barrymore as the poster child for her "Just say No" to drugs campaign. That was a good one.

So, here I am, trying to cling to our European feeling of having too much stuff and trying to be significantly less materialistic and not buying clothes or bags or magazines or other unnecessary items and trying to downsize what we do have, like trading in Duke's car on a smaller, more fuel efficient one for me, and going through our clothes and donating them or selling them. Anyway, yeah, there's all that, and then I lost my i-pod. It's been well over a month and I tried, I really did. The new i-pods came out right after i had gotten my lost pink one and I even turned away from their new shape and tempting shiny new colors. And no one NEEDS an i-pod. So after I lost it, I chalked it up to my own fault and a luxury I could live without and I made more mixed CDs and even programmed the channels on the radio in my car.

Oh my, gentle reader, I couldn't do it!!!! I need my i-pod!!!! I don't care if that makes me a shallow bad materialistic wasteful person. I passed by the super cool 70s ski jacket. I put down the overpriced Michael Kors purse. I walked away from the super cute sweater dress that I don't need. But have you listened to the radio around here? I am just not that strong. I need my music and there's not a mixed CD that can yet hold it all.

I ran into Target, I looked neither to the right nor to the left. I didn't even go into the aisles. I went straight to the electronic section and found the bored teenage boy working the counter and gasped, "I need the I-pod nano in apple green."

And I love it. It's so shiny and pretty and sleek and it has ALL my songs on it and my car wept tears of joy when I plugged it in. Because I am not European and able to live a simpler, less stuff filled life, damn it. I am an American. And if Europeans had better music (save for their English bands who come over here to make it big), they would be Americans, too!

Happy 80 degree Fall!

When Duke and I (mainly Duke because surprisingly enough, I have another sinus infection--go figure!) dismantled our deck gazebo this weekend, we discovered the corpse of a small brown bat that had flown down one of the 10 foot columns and obviously couldn't find its way out. And now I know why! My friend S. explained that bats cannot fly up like birds can. To take flight, they must start out by flying in a downward motion. Once in the air, they can swoop all over the place, but they cannot begin their flight without a downward start. Isn't that amazing? That is Magic School Bus info right there.

I have to say, each of my friends is so diverse and amazing in completely different ways and I learn from them all. I am truly fortunate because I don't know under what other circumstances I would have the opportunity to meet so many cool and unique women that bring so much to the table. I know all of those Mommy Lit books (not that I waste my time reading that kind of fluff, cough, cough) always have the protagonist attend some insipid Mommy & Me class only to discover she's in a room full of former vice presidents of corporations and what not, but my friends' pre-Mommy lives are significantly more interesting than that and what's more, they each have these amazing hearts that make them exquisite mothers and friends. I've never had so many people to whom I can show my ugliest self and they still embrace me.

I really had plans to dismantle the garden today, especially as it's much more like a jungle than a garden, but it was just too hot. We could barely stand to decorate the pumpkins. Stella was panting up a storm.

I had the yummiest drink at a Thai place last night: it was crushed pineapple and vanilla ice cream. How great is that? I could go for one right now.

I ordered a super cool hair ornament today. I can't wait to wear it. And I've been searching and searching for the nose ring of my dreams and I cannot find it. I did buy one, but it wasn't right. Maybe they don't make them anymore? Maybe it's an 80s thing? I want to start switching it out. And I had all these tattoos I was going to do, but now I'm thinking maybe I need to be done with that. I'm not good with permanency. I get bored too easily.

I'm all for safe sex and everything

But dude, I do not want to take my offspring to the playground and see your used and very full condom resting beside the rocking duck near the jungle gym. I was young once, too. I know there's only so many places you can get your groove on without the parentals hearing you. And mad props for using protection and sparing anyone an unwanted STD or teen pregnancy. Glad you're rocking the love glove. But seriously, you've got to get rig of the evidence, man. That's just nasty. There was a trash can nearby. FYI, I had to use sticks to dispose of your hazardous waste. If I get pregnant from handling your potential children, I'm gonna DNA your ass and track you down.

In other playground news, we came home with three falls off the merry-go-round and a basketball to the face. How many times can you say, "Hold on to the merry-go-round" or "DO NOT get on the merry-go-round" without your child's injuries somehow feeling like your fault?

I feel beat down. It's a rough day when someone keeps getting hurt.

I mean well

My daily to-do list is generally an overly ambitious one. I really do have every intention of completing my tasks. In fact, I feel certain that I will complete them. And then I manage to maybe cross off one thing and feel like I didn't do a damn thing all day,even though I'm running around constantly. So, I'm going to start stacking my list in my favor. Today, for instance, I can already draw a thick black line through "take vitamins." As for the rest: pick-up meds at vet, get passport updated, get passport for Mort, do laundry, return library books, go grocery shopping,balance checkbook...Well, let's add-on "meet pals at playground and have dinner with girlfriends." Those are two more I can be certain to tackle. Hey, I should add on "drink coffee and brush teeth." Wow, I feel more on top of things already.

Seriously, the amount of pills I'm now ingesting is becoming insane. In addition to my various vitamins and Neti pot and Zyrtec and current cold medicine( one for day and one for night) and Aleve and Omega-3 , Duke has convinced me to start taking echinacea. Because of my allergies to everything save for dogs and cockroaches, and my faulty sinuses, and germy kid, I have an almost constant cold/sinus infection/sinusitus. Duke, however, hasn't had so much a the sniffles since he started taking echinacea last April in preparation for his trip to India. Everyone he knew that had gone to India that had not taken the big e got sick, despite being careful not to drink any water and having their nine million shots. However, anyone who took the e, Duke included, did not get the least bit ill and was able to enjoy all of the fantastic food whole-heartedly. So, I'm willing to try it. I'm tired of being sick all the time.It makes my nose piercing very unpleasant, all this constant blowing.

In a completely unrelated topic, I love documentries. They are better than any scripted movie. Although I saw "Run, Fat Boy, Run" over the weekend and it was good. It was nice. I like nice. What else have I seen lately? Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist. Horrid. Boring. Insipid. No plot. No character development. And anyone who has ever had to deal with an asshole friend that drunk will not find the "funny drunk girl" very amusing. If we were able to get tot he movies more often, we definitely would have walked out. Which reminds me, I want to check out the soundtrack for Run Fat Boy Run. Twas a good one. Alrighty, I suppose it's time to start tackling the list. I've almost completed the coffee task.

I have a dog and a kid lying on my back.

Butterflies on my mums

It's a beautiful day

Today it's just me and the mush. We're both still in our pjs. We haven't eaten breakfast. We are not going to rush rush rush but instead we are going to chill and enjoy the sunshine and the gorgeous colors. We're going to go get Mommy's new nose ring to go with her new bangs and then we're going to pick pumpkins and plant mums and maybe start tearing down the garden and letting the rabbits eat their fill. Stella will of course be hanging with us, but she gets so drunk in the sun that she won't be able to bother even barking at the bunnies nibbling away at the rotting veggies and weeds. Like she would anyway. Lazy ass. I think I may be able to transplant some of the basil and cilantro from the garden into the house, which would be amazing and never occurred to me until I saw it at D and T's. They're so clever.

I got a great kit that we can decorate our pumpkins like Mr. Potato Head in addition to attempting to carve them. I'm not so good with the carving. I usually end up making the pumpkin collapse. 

And should tonight be a salsa and nacho night? Why yes, yes, I think it should.

Let's talk God

Quite frankly, I am a big fan. I believe in God 100% and nothing anyone says could possibly make a dent in my faith. I do not adhere to any particular religion because none of them quite match my beliefs, but I'm looking. I don't believe that God is exclusive and I do believe that most religions are. In fact, I would go so far as to say most religions are not very God like. They make hierarchies for living creatures and for the ranking of  humans and I have a very hard time accepting that God agrees with that. I cannot accept that God decreed Man is the head of the household and woman was made to serve and obey her husband. I cannot accept that we are to hate others in the name of God. I cannot accept that animals are lesser beings without souls that humans get to rule over but do not have a responsibility to treat with kindness. I have a pretty hard time accepting the Bible because it was written by men for men. I grew-up in the Catholic church, which is corrupt as can be and has been since it was formed. The God our priest spoke of was full of wrath and fury and our lives were to be ruled by sin and shame. And no one can convince me that we can put negative human emotions on God.  Sorry, I don't buy it. I believe that we can attribute all that is good in this world to God. And all that isn't gets to fall on human shoulders.

Anyway, my issue is with people who are stray so far from the obvious that they feel that the way they worship or the religion to which they belong makes them superior. I know that as a Catholic I was taught that "we" were the true religion and everyone else was going to hell in a handbag. I mean, most of us were going to hell, too, because we would never be good enough for God, or at best we would languish in Purgartory for all eternity, but if you weren't Catholic, you didn't even get to be in limbo. Just hell. Except of course for our parish priest who drove around in a CADILLAC and smoked cigars. It's that vow of poverty he took. He could only afford a Caddy. And priests? Why are they higher than nuns in the ranking? I am fairly certain that my 98 year old great aunt who wanted to become a nun and do God's work so badly but was forbidden to do so by her father that she had to wait until her father died and then took her vows and entered the convent in her 30s is no less devoted to God simply because she is a woman.

Off topic again. Big surprise. Anyway, I just don't like it when people use God to deem themselves superior to others. It doesn't work that way. I know plenty of people who are deeply devoted to God but don't use it as their label or a bumper sticker but rather a way to try to live in the kindest fashion that they can.  I am uncertain why people need to define themselves by  wearing God like He's a Gucci handbag. Define yourself by your actions if you wish to be Christ-like. Don't list it as your label on the internet or on your shirt or the back of your car. What? You think you won't get into a car accident because you've got a Jesus fish? Do you honestly think that's how shallow God is? Why don't you stop with the proclamations and start with the helping someone with a walker load groceries into their car? Why don't you stop walking past the bin asking for blankets or coats for those less fortunate while you wear your WWJD bracelet and actually take off your coat and put it in the box? Why don't you stop with the handholding and singing and praying at rock concerts and start with the food donations and sponsoring a family in need? Why don't you try putting your neighbor's newspaper on their porch when you know they're out of town or shoveling the driveway of the elderly couple next door and stop telling everyone how into God you are? Man, just be a good person. That's what God wants. It's pretty freaking simple. 

P.S. When I say "God", I mean in whatever incarnation one believes in a higher power. I call this being "God" because that's what I was taught, but I think we are all worshipping the exact same deity, no matter what religion or belief is held.

Maybe it's the cold medicine

I'm having one of those days where my mind is everywhere and nowhere. I'm playing the what-ifs game and feeling like I need to cut my hair or get a new tattoo or do something drastic. It probably is the cold medicine. That pseudoephedrine makes me wacky. Unfortunately I have a hair appointment tonight, so who knows what will happen?

NOTE TO SELF: Do not cut your hair. You look terrible when you cut your hair. It is and never will be an option for you. EVER. Get ready to be an old lady with long white dreadlocks. Actually, that would be pretty cool as far as old lady hair goes.

And I will bake bread and have a huge garden and a nose ring and volunteer at animal shelters and places that help to distribute food and teach people to read. By that time, there will be a surefire cure for herniated discs(maybe legos?) and I will do yoga every day and be one of those older women I used to take yoga with who were as flexible as a  four year old and whose poses were flawless and strong. And we will have bought a place in Italy and I will be fluent in Italian at long last and we will spend half the year there and half the year elsewhere when Italy has its rainy season and August heat. I will have grandchildren and I will help them plant gardens of their own and we won't wear shoes so that we can feel the dirt squish beneath our feet.

Scrambling to keep up with my own life

Rumor on the gardening circuit had it that pumpkins are beyond easy to grow. So I tried to grow them. I had an entire mix of white and orange pumpkins I was planning on harvesting for fall and I've got nothing. Now, that may be because my growing method was throwing all of last year's pumpkins into the edge of a field on our property and just letting nature take its course. And, yes, based on everyone I had spoken with, I honestly believed it would work.

But there's so many things I want to do and have been too bogged down to get done. I want to get pumpkins(this year I will plant the seeds properly) and plant mums and decorate for Halloween and have friends over for mulled wine and cider and cheese and crackers. I want to up the intensity level of my Italian language study. I want to build the wooden car that Mort and I painted over the weekend. I want to go to yard sales and find pieces to finish the guest room. I want to take walks with Mort and Stella and crunch through leaves and admire the foliage. I want to see my sister.

I have taken to making gigantic calendars with the days events written upon them. This is in addition to my calendar I carry in my bag and the one on the fridge. There is just so much going on all the time. Three people's schedule's to juggle and coordinate. Sounds like a hot knife through butter, but it's almost impossible sometimes.

She who doesn't know when to pick her watermelons

will lose them to frost. Or not. I still have no idea if my watermelons are yet ripe.  My guess would be that they are frost-bitten. I think I will stand them upright and either use them as Jack 'o Lanterns or snowmen.