Getting on the Stick

It's Friday morning and I have an evil virus. I have a feeling it will be a chicken soup and chamomile tea weekend.

Will this winter ever end? Seriously...longest damn winter I can remember in eons.

I am lagging behind in my transformation. No, haven't been doing bad, habit forming things...no wine, no cigars, no narcissistic sociopaths....but I haven't been doing my good things, either. I need to paint my studio but it's still winter. I need to practice my henna art but I need some essential oils to add to the "mud" which means I need money (short on that right now). I need to get on the stick with the community garden thing and get THAT committee organized. I want to start a literary group and an artists group but I still have to get Second Sundays up to speed. And Lord knows my yoga is lagging. New mat and all.

So much to do - and it's not like I don't have the time. Ha! Four more months of sabbatical to get things done. On the Summer Solstice everything changes.

Diet Miracle!

This is my new portrait. It's the new me. Snaps to my cousin Bo (Alvis) Harding for making me look so fine.

WAKE THE DEAD!

My editor and I were talking about ghosts today...and paranormal "experiences". For the record, I believe in ghosts. I also believe in playing "WAKE THE DEAD!" in the cemetery, and Emily and I plan to give it a go some night.

It's been a busy day in the newsroom. I did a story on Olympic withdrawals and a review of last nights "Dallas Black Dance Theatre" performance at the college. I also interviewed a young interior designer (just graduated) for a story. I feel bad for her trying to be taken seriously as an educated professional in Weatherford...I ran into that when I moved here. I love my town, but people here don't realize the difference between a "decorator" and an accredited interior designer. But that's a whole 'nuther story. Anyway, I've decided to do anything I can to help the new designer out.

I have a new nickname from Emily: "St. Jules of the Opulent Boobs". Don't ask.

I'm not ready to share.

So I think the sun makes me silly. Seems we haven't seen it enough lately. I've noticed a direct correlation between the shining of the sun and my mood. No sun = cranky and surly. Sun = silly and good humored. I must have been a real bitch in Seattle. It seems so long ago....

Actually, looking back, I think I was just lost without the sun. Lost and sad. But I still miss Seattle. I miss being able to go to the Pike Place Market and I miss fresh seafood. I miss the coffee and wine bars. I miss the salty smell of Puget Sound. I miss "Hammering Man" and Fremont and Whole Foods. Mostly though, I miss my friends...and my babies.

But here I can have the sun. My roots go deep into the earth here, too. That makes me stronger. I needed to come here to get strong. And I needed to find everything I lost after a bitter divorce. Some things didn't work out - things I had planned on when moving here - but that's only because my angels were watching out for me. They know I'm a dunderhead when it comes to matters of the heart. And right now they enjoy, I think, watching me be alone.

I'm not such a big fan though. At least not some days. I'm about 50/50 right now. Heh. Come to think of it (and I had to pause to think for a few minutes)... it's actually not such a bad thing. I like it for now, but I don't think I would like it for the long run. I'm avoiding a relationship like the plague now - but I think when my sabbatical ends in June I will be ready to start opening up to the thought of sharing again. No alcoholics though. Seriously. I mean that. They are NO FUN.

Cold Monday

Michael just threw away my tape ball. He - who is constantly hucking stuff at me - actually threw away one of my most brilliant inventions in the history of my newsroom career.

He's just mad because he threw plain old paper wads. I, on the other hand, thought to wrap my paper wads in tape so they carried more impact when they slam into the side of the head.

Today is a typical Monday. I did a weather story because the people I need to interview for stories have not called back today. Emily saw a hot old guy come into the reception area and she's determined to hook me up with him if she can figure out who he is. Jeff comes and goes. Josh just got here. We're all cranky and tired of the weather. Will this winter ever end?

Little Running Brain Guy.

I'm not having any luck with stories today. I have a million things to write about, but nothing good for tomorrow's paper.

I have no weekend plans, either. It's Lent. The girls invited me out tonight, but since I gave up alcohol for six weeks and am fasting I don't think hitting the bars would be a good idea.

Something big is fixing to happen. I know it is. Something life-changing. My little subconscious guy that runs from the back of my brain to my prefrontal cortex to bring me messages that fire my instincts has been extremely busy lately. Running his butt off. Too bad his messages are written in invisible ink and as soon as they reach the cognitive part of my brain they fade to the point I can make out writing but can't read the words. And then they are gone altogether.

(See what happens when I'm deprived of alcohol?)

I shall now start wearing a robe.

Holy Wankers I have a half dozen followers now! How did THAT happen??? Thank you. Can I call you my minions? Please? I'll PAY you!

Laissez le bon temps roule!

It's Fat Tuesday. I haven't decided what I'm going to give up for Lent yet, but I'm going to try and make it creative. I plan to curb my vices for the six weeks until Easter - which will be utter hell, but it is necessary. If nothing else but to prove to myself I can do it.

Michael is making me insane today. While I was on the phone with my priest, getting information for an Ash Wednesday story, he got on my internet and up popped a picture of a mostly naked lady in very provocative attire. Then he hit the lever on my chair several times, which drops the seat and sends my knees up to my neck. All this while talking to Father Mason and trying to concentrate on the cultural and historical intricacies of a very serious spiritual holiday without swearing at my co-writer. Butthead.

Fortune Cookie for Valentines Day

Ok...here's another weird story. Yesterday I decided to pick up some Chinese food and take it home in celebration of the Chinese New Year. So...I got my food and was standing at the counter writing out my check. The lovely Asian girl behind the counter was getting me a bag of soy sauce and other stuff, and she reached for the basket of fortune cookies and started to grab one to add to the bag.

Instead of grabbing the cookie, however, her hand paused about two inches above the cookie basket. She looked from the cookie basket to me, and her expression changed from sort of bored to a combination of alarmed and amused (if that's possible). Then she slowly moved her hand from the cookie she nearly grabbed to another one...never taking her eyes off me. She picked that one up and put it in the bag. Then she gave me a wry smile and sent me on my way.

So...when I got home I ate my food then reached into the bag for the fortune cookie. I sat it on the counter and stared at it for a minute. It seemed to have special mojo because of the way the young chinese lady selected it. Finally I picked it up, unwrapped it and broke it open.

My fortune said "you are about to receive something you have wanted all your life."

HELLS BELLS! Really? I know what that thing is, but I'm not going to blog it. Don't want to mess with the magic.

Anyway, Michael just flipped me off in two really creative ways. One was peeling his fingers down like a banana with his middle finger remaining. The next way was blowing his middle finger up like a balloon. Ah...my newsroom people.

Candy Hearts.

I just got home from the SWOSU Jazz Festival. It's still early for a Friday night, but I didn't feel like going out afterward...and I'm not ready for bed, so....

Blogging.

I lived in Seattle for nearly three decades and heard all kinds of live music all the time - rock, alternative, reggae, bluegrass, goth, pop, international...and jazz at Ernestine's (back in the day) and Jazz Alley. But I have to say tonight, in my little town in Oklahoma, I heard some of the BEST jazz ever. Totally inspiring and totally cool.

Emily was my date, (as well as my cousin 16 times removed, Jared, for the steak dinner) - but I have more fun with her anyway going just about anywhere. At one point, between sets, I pulled a small bag of candy hearts from my purse. I told Emily "these are special candy hearts. I'm going to give you one, and it's going to have a lot of meaning and be very prophetic...sort of like a fortune cookie only better."

So I pulled out a yellow heart and gave it to her, then I pulled one out for myself...also yellow. She looked at hers and said "What the hell?" I looked at mine. Neither of them had a word we could understand stamped on it. They seemed to be in a different language. So I pulled out two more and we realized the sentiments were written in Spanish. They said things like "di nada" and "amor" and "lindo"....very curious.

She asked me where I got them, and I couldn't remember. Really weird. I remember getting them...or at least I remember someone handing them to me, but I couldn't for the life of me remember where I was when it happened. We looked at the bag, and all it said on the front was "Sweethearts." I go a lot of different places in the course of a week, and people give me stuff all the time, and usually I remember where things come from but the place I got this little bag of hearts is still a mystery to me.

We had a good laugh. "It figures" we both said. Love in a different language.

Year of the Tiger.

I'm going to dinner and a jazz festival this evening. I'd rather be in China this weekend celebrating the New Year...rather than another silly Valentines Day. If I were in China I might get a red envelope with money in it. I might get to light fireworks. I might get to run through the streets waving a red lantern. Oh well.

Find me a clothesline!!!

I think I'll take my glue gun and some clothes pins and become Edward Clothespinhands.

Snap...snap snap. Snap snap snap.

Just a thought.

Boring.

Wow - I'm thinking my blogs are really pretty color-less these days. Sort of like the weather outside. I have been in a cranky mood for nearly two weeks now...

I had lunch with my writer friend today. It was so nice to see him and talk to him again. He's one of those people that actually GETS me...or at least it feels like it. I know that sounds terribly narcissistic, but it means something when someone "gets" us, I think. Anyway, I love the man. Incredible writer with the ability to see right into people...and he has true compassion.

The pilot keeps calling. I don't answer most of the time. Today he sent me an email and it had a picture attached of the skies over Columbia. Beautiful, really. He's probably a really nice guy...or at least he seems like it. At least he's persistent. I have no idea what the attraction is - we've never even met and I'm very unresponsive. Who knows. Maybe he knows something I don't.

I told my writer friend today about my sabbatical...and the fact I won't even date anyone until the summer solstice. Which means I will have gone a whole year without a relationship. (Well, except for the 2 months I tried to be friends with the alcoholic last fall, but that doesn't count. He just doesn't count...period. That was NOT a relationship). Anyway, Ron (writer friend) seemed to think the whole sabbatical thing is a good idea. He's smart, so I guess I'm on the right track. Who knows. I have big plans.

Nano.

Yesterday I went to the city with my Leadership Weatherford class and we learned a lot about nanotechnology. Nanotechnology is manipulating molecules to create new and different types of molecules for different purposes. It both fascinates and scares the heck out of me...because there is a potential for amazing good or infinite evil...depending on where the technology goes.

Anyway, 1900 - 1950 was the "industrial age"....1950 - 2010 was the "communication age" and now 2010 - 2050 will be the "nanotech age". If what the scientists yesterday said is true, nanotechnology will change our world over the next two decades just as much as electricity did.

Frankly, I would prefer to just live in an artists commune somewhere in a desert and grow my own food. Well, and be able to take a trip into the city once in awhile to catch a movie or shop. Ha!

Toxic Avenger.

Emily asked me to blog about this, and since she is my boss and I do everything she tells me, I'm going to humiliate myself and tell the story.

I had some sort of stomach bug over the weekend. Saturday I ventured to Walmart and was standing in the pasta section, deciding on which shape pasta I wanted to cook. There was only one other person in the aisle...a little college girl with blonde hair (pink highlights) wearing leggings and army boots. Cute girl.

So...the worst happened. No noise. Very small, but lethal none-the-less. After about 5 seconds the college girl shouted "JESUS!!! What IS that???" and rushed out of the aisle, pushing her cart

ahead of her as fast as she could.

I cannot believe I was so toxic. I pride myself on smelling good all the time, but whatever was going on in my intestines over the weekend was not of this world.

Thankfully the issue is over and now I can be in the same room with other people.

I also have no pride and an inordinate amount of humility for sharing this.

Internal Alarm System.

Ok. At 12:07 a.m. I got a text from the Clinton guy. It woke me up. I read it and went back to sleep. Here is the text:

"Moment of weakness. Won't happen again. Just hope u r happy. I keep watching INTO THE WILD. My thoughts of you still haunt me. Guess they always will? Well then, goodbye."

Somehow I always know when he's about to get in touch. I think my survival instincts are strong, and little warnings go off...little sirens that scream "crazy person alert! subversive sociopath is approaching contact phase! duck and cover! WOOT WOOT WOOT WOOT!!!!"

Don't ask me how I know, I just always do.

What is weird is this: I lost all my anger towards him after I got the text. I just felt bad for him. Into the Wild? Isn't that a movie about a guy who isolates himself from everyone only to die alone and realize "Happiness isn't real until it's shared?"

It's not my problem anymore. Cold but true.

I have a mouth of wood.

Once again, I don't feel like blogging. My head feels like it is wrapped tightly in Saran Wrap because it is dehydrated. Probably shriveled up like a raisin. Dayna came over last night and we split a bottle of wine and talked. I used to be able to drink an entire bottle without feeling the effects the next day. My clean lifestyle is making me a wuss.

I am also feeling bitter towards the alcoholic today. The further away I get from that situation the more I realize what a total mindf*** he was. I don't normally feel bitter toward exes, especially since most of them are still my friends. Good friends. But not this guy. I need to go home and start thinking good thoughts, instead of humming "Goodbye Earl" and fantasizing about the world being free of one more mean person.

I'm not normally like this. I'm usually goodness and light. Today I am a big hairy, ugly man in a pink tu-tu, wonking unsuspecting bystanders on the head with my prickly wand. (For some reason that is just the vision I got while I was coming up with words for what I feel).

WAA-TOO-SI!

Ok...all is well and I feel like writing again. My dad pulled through his third surgery today. I am skipping around the newsroom. I am giddy.

The weather has forced us all to become recluses this past weekend. It is finally good to be among my people again...although the cabin fever has gone to all our heads.

Funny thing. Michael was at one of the local drugstores buying eye drops for his wife this afternoon. He looked under the section labeled "eye care" and found nothing but condoms. He took a pic and I hope he posts it on his facebook site.

Tomorrow is Groundhog Day. If the weather here is any indication, it looks like we'll be having 683 more weeks of winter. I am so tired of the cold.

Absent.

My dad is in the hospital and I haven't felt like blogging. At all.