The 13th Apostol

What The Hell Just Happened To My Life?

Where to begin...I had this Hemingwayesque post all written out, but alas the night called darkly and I hit my head on the PRINTER TABLE I'm using as a desk again...needless to say I omitted the draft button, and off I ricocheted to "The Bed".
Next morning, all I saw was that little "no signal" image glaring at me from across the cabana. Bullocks! (that's my new word) You see I'm bitch-backing the cable from the main house...a 75ft. coil of indigo blue 1/4 inch coax my umbilicus at the moment...but I'm getting ahead of myself here. Let's start with where HERE is, shall we?
I'm staying in a section of Oklahoma City called Heritage Hills. Not to be confused with Nichols Hills, Surrey Hills, or Valley Brook, eh hem...Heritage Hills is rich with early Oklahoma oil history, phenomenal European architecture, and of course, transient homeless people such as myself.
My dear friends who have opened their cabana to the Mer and I, are in a word...eccentric. He teaches at the University of Phoenix, and Oklahoma University...Environmental Science and Basic Ecology. Years ago, I used to see Fenton riding his bike around the area...thought he was a crazy person on a bicycle I did. Then I met him at church, his wife said "There's my husband Fenton" and I thought "She's married to the crazy bicycle guy".
She, Tempie, the crazy bicycle guys wife is the Manager of a psych assessment referral team, working obnoxious hours with a broken foot - Tempie is the type of friend who has never tried to talk me out of my tree, but rather climbed up the tree, smoked a cigarette with me, then we've come down together.
They have one daughter, Shanti, for which an entire post could be written about. Shanti was adopted, it was an open adoption, she's always known she was adopted, there are  no secrets here. Shanti is as wild and passionate as the horses she rides daily. She is an amazing human being, and I'm proud to call her my friend.
Two ELS students live in the main house also.  Kevin is from Korea...or Japan...shit, he's Asian, and has been here three years. Talal is Muslim, and I slept so little last night I can't remember where he's from, but he wears the most delicious cologne I've ever smelled on a man. Their palatial Estate is massive. The first impression is the huge original ornate wrought iron gate, like two giant arms welcoming wide. The main house, a white Spanish Mission giant on the Oklahoma praire of 1927, changed only by tree lines and blue coax cables...
The cabana we're staying in has the same square footage as the house I'm trying to close on, as the house I'm buying. It's charm surpasses any cinder block cottage, with  it's claw-footed bath tub and live greenery. I've hardly left the safety of this stable old cabana, trying to get my bearings I suppose. Overwhelmed with the peace and freedom I feel, not sure exactly what to do with it, with myself. Still waiting, waiting, waiting, to find out just what our future holds. An FHA Underwriter holds the key. In an email to friends I wrote "Had it not been for 4 Missionaries and one crazy old Biker, we might be sitting on a curb somewhere trying to keep the fish out of direct sunlight. I had no idea how much stress I was under until we were in rush hour traffic on Broadway Extension last night coming down here. Al in the front, a very unhappy Nutz the Cat in back, and Alphie The Beta somewhere in between. The Pathfinder packed full of our necessary lives...I realized for the first time in I don't know how long...I was free.

Over the last year I've been yelled at, called stupid, referred to as "you people", and all in the name of wanting my kid to have a decent neighborhood to live in. So grateful I'm out of there. No place is worth the stress I've been under for the last two years. NO HOUSE.

Simplicity

I'm going to do something I've never done. I'm going to ask each of you to send some positive stuff this way for Al and I, as we begin a journey of utter uncertainty.

The house has not closed, the owner of this house is threatening to get a judgment against me since my lease was up on the 9th.

I've had this thing in the yard since yesterday morning...later today around one, several people will arrive to load my life, or as much of it as will fit, into a horse trailer.

I have to tear down my computer, that will be the hardest, not having "my lover" to help me through. My kingdom for a laptop...

The Gypsy in me is ready for anything. There's a knowing, deep in my soul, everything is happening as is meant to. Without being pessimistic, it appears the Universe is steering me clear of the little Greek Villa on Milla. As if this great tide is washing us, logistically and emotionally, far, far away.

We are moving into my friends pool cabana, in a lush section of the inner city, until either the house closes, or the Universe shows me something I cannot see from here.

All my perceived security, and I'm oh-so reminded of this perception, is slipping from my grip...the lesson, clouded in chaos, will take time to see. Let go, letting go, remembering the feminine, knowing the feminine, TRUSTing the feminine.

The last year has been an enormous gift.
Living in this house, having these neighbors.
I don't want to leave, and I am sad.
However, I can see the gift for what it is, what it has been. How GOOD it's been for both of us, how much GOOD it's done for Al.
So much GOOD, has helped to heal the BAD.

Yes, I suppose it's just that simple.

I take each of you with me, in a warm little corner of my heart.

 

"Season Fashions" by Jr. Author Sidney

(The weekend we had the garage sale, Al and Sidney from next door, spent all day Sunday dressing and working with their Bratz dolls. I couldn't believe how occupied they were. They asked me to photograph their work, which I did, and to build a storyline around the stills, which I did not. Over this past weekend I came across two sheets of paper with a storyline typed out that Sid had done, had put serious effort into. She never said a word about it. So here is the story, of two fashionistas, and two kids I love with all my heart.) 

This is the story of two girls, who go to season parties...

Two girls were on top of Mt. Everest in the middle of a big storm, they were going to snow board all the way down, it was hard, but with there season trends they ruled the mountain...

Back at home, it felt like they were on the blazing sun, but with their motor scooters, bikes, and skateboards, they could party all day!!

Back at home, their  closet was as big as a normal living room, there room was the size of 3 living rooms! Their back yard was the size of a neighborhood! But they still had new fashion like their mom...

that night they got dressed up in party clothes and got in a sweet pair of wheels and rolled down to Java Lava (the coolest place in town) and partied all night long! (and they had the coolest outfits there)...

A couple of months later, aka Halloween, Yasmin's outfit was a Genie and her friend is just a mystery...and that is their story.

 

Amy Winehouse

My latest sick obsession. here

"Look Ma, Aint it Grand The Wind Stopped Blowin?"

LOGAN OK-KINGFISHER OK-CANADIAN OK-OKLAHOMA OK-
710 AM CDT SUN AUG 19 2007

...SIGNIFICANT WEATHER ADVISORY...

THIS SIGNIFICANT WEATHER ADVISORY IS FOR CANADIAN...KINGFISHER...
LOGAN AND OKLAHOMA COUNTIES.

THE CENTER OF TROPICAL DEPRESSION ERIN IS LOCATED OVER FAR 
NORTHWESTERN OKLAHOMA CITY AT 710 AM. WINDS OF 40 TO 50 MPH WILL BE 
POSSIBLE IN LOCALIZED AREAS WITH THE SHOWERS AND STORMS ASSOCIATED 
WITH THE TROPICAL DEPRESSION. THE SYSTEM IS MOVING EAST AT 15 MPH.

PEOPLE IN CANADIAN...KINGFISHER...LOGAN AND OKLAHOMA COUNTIES...
INCLUDING THE CITIES OF DEL CITY...EDMOND...GUTHRIE...MIDWEST CITY 
AND OKLAHOMA CITY...SHOULD MONITOR THE WEATHER SITUATION CLOSELY. 
LISTEN FOR WARNINGS AND REMAIN ALERT FOR THREATENING WEATHER 
CONDITIONS.

The Beach

The sea does not reward those who are too anxious, too greedy, or too impatient. To dig for treasures shows not only impatience and greed, but lack of faith. Patience, patience, patience, is what the sea teaches. Patience and faith. One should lie empty, open, choiceless as a beach -- waiting for a gift from the sea.

                                    Anne Morrow Lindbergh

Wiiii, I'm RIGHT!

Nine years ago they induced a labor that would last 30 minutes, culminating with Al shooting toward the moon prior to the epidural taking effect.
It was over too soon, after many months anticipating the experience...anticlimactic, followed by intense fear my baby would not ever breathe on his own.
A week in the NICU brought the five pounder up to par with the others born that hot August 14th of 1998.

I do 'guilt parenting' too much of the time, maybe it's from having a sick child, maybe it's my generation, maybe it's that I don't know any other way.

Last night as I journaled, the journal no one will read unless I die, that journal...I wrote about my own parents and what I truly wanted from them, but never got.
Because the fear I will disappoint my child is a big one, I will disappoint him, and he will not love me anymore.

I have spent enormous amounts of money trying to ensure my son loves me. Ensure I am giving him enough to make up for all the losses, all the pain having me as a mother has caused him. This is not over the top, this is true, down to having to leave his home again and all his friends. Every painful, difficult experience in his life is a result of my inabilities.

(My mother nick named me Sarah as a kid...Sarah Bernhardt)

What it was I never got from my parents that I always wanted, and was most obvious on birthdays, holidays of any kind where "family" were together...was for them to be interested in me, sincerely interested. Not just the auto-pilot interest they were so adept at. It wasn't in a lack-of-love way, I always knew my parents loved me... cerebrally. They were depression era parents, they didn't know any other way than to buy me things, they went the same direction with their guilt, as I do mine.

So, it makes perfect sense to be sitting in boxes, while Al plays his new Wii, woo, whatever...(which is really very cool btw) while wearing a $50 abercrombie shirt and his new Heelys. The funny thing is, his Uncle, the one who believes me to share DNA with Lilith, went in halvsies on it with me.

It wasn't my idea, well...the halvsies thing was, because I couldn't let go enough for him to do all of it, not now, not yet.

All The Mer's dad had to do was show up at Chili's on time, with the gift, the big DEAL gift that everything was built around...

Thirty minutes late, he walks up to the restaurant carrying a toys-R-us sack. I excused myself from the table of fourteen moms, dads, and kids, and RAN to intercept, because GODAMNIT, the sonofabitch was not going to hand my kid a sack with a FUCKING red bow on it!

Conversation between the Sea Monster and Me in front of Chili's:

Me: What are you doing?
TSM: Getting here.
Me: It's not wrapped.
TSM: I'm here aren't I?
Me: It's not wrapped.
TSM: You want me to go wrap it?
Me: I want you to go wrap it.
TSM: I'll go wrap it.
Me: Don't walk THAT WAY, he'll SEE it through the fucking SACK
TSM: Ok...

I returned to the festivities, slammed a Dr. Pepper and felt much better...we ate, toasted The Mer, then all came here for cake...and to continue waiting on TSM, because  I AM RIGHT!!!

Sometime around 9:00 p.m. the man shows up with the Toys R Us sack, and inside are two packages wrapped in Christmas paper, but by God they were wrapped.

And I am RIGHT... who gives a sh*t about happy when you're RIGHT?

...Obviously this little guy does. I owe him my interest, because when all is said and done, I believe that's what he wants most also. Or the other things wouldn't be so important...would they?

Happy 9th Birthday Buddy, I love you.

Mom

After Effects

Sleep was broken, three heart beats on the living room floor.
Chelsea, Sidney, and The Mer, until wee hours and much discussion over who would sleep in the middle. Mer won.

Billy Joel is in my head "These are the times we'll remember" circa 1987

I must have woke up 14 times through the night. Each time creeping to the fifth step from the top of the stairs, just enough to make eye contact, see their small chests rising under multiple caricature blankets, hear their soft hums of childhood, mingled with locust. Then, like a child myself...scurrying back to my mattress and futon, with the air conditioner upstairs blasting at 70 degrees, and more broken sleep.

Al is experiencing the childhood he always wanted here, and I've relaxed enough to let it happen. Thinking back to the first day I brought him to the house in the hood on an "unsupervised" visit. A neighborhood boy, 4 years old rides up on his tricycle, no mother in sight, asking if Al was back from being "tooken".

Spinning on my heels I glared down at this throw away child, in the meanest possible tone I said "Go away, do not come back here EVER!", then pulled my angel from his car seat, into my arms, before I knew it we were safe behind the kitchen door. The new kitchen door, not the one stalker ex had blown to smitherines with his Vietnam tree trunk kicks...

The way I spoke to that little boy is one of my demons. So afraid of losing my heart again, knowing that hood, those people played such a pivotal role in his removal, their empty lives, and full frontal lies. Yet there is NO excuse for speaking to a child like that, even if that child receives fathoms worse at home. I am responsible.

Hot Flash # 62

"Why haven't we been getting any mail?" I asked Mer Boy this afternoon, as if my nine year old (almost) son would have an answer. I do this way too much, the asking of questions and thinking aloud in his presence.
He's quite adept at tuning me out by now.
"OH MY GAWD AL!"

Okaaay, I WON'T go see if Chelsea can play.
"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, I completely FORGOT!"
Forgot what? 
...I HAD THE MAIL FORWARDED BECAUSE WE WERE MOVING!
So, let's just go over to the new house and get the mail.
"We can't, there's no mail box. There's a slot in the front door."
...Oh...sooo can I go see if Chelsea can play?

Abundance Issues

My Lender got me a straight FHA loan...but I'm now $2,200 short.

My Attorney sent me an email two days ago, reminding me our CUSTODY TRIAL starts Monday morning at 9a.m. sharp...gee, I sorta forgot about THAT thing.

Tuesday is The Mer's Birthday, and all I've done to prepare is obsess on Craigslist and ebay trying to get the other Christ child a fucking Wii.

Now some of you may look at the above and say "Man, what a shit-storm", but I say these are still problems of abundance people!

These are all problems I would've welcomed eagerly six years ago, and am grateful for today. You see, for several years it was only old whatshisname that had an Atty., whilst poor little anorexic me would crawl into court whimpering wearing my victim ensam, people asking me if I was sick?. Hell yes I'm sick, can't you see? I'm sick and needy...take care of me!

The general consensus of anyone who knew the "Me" of six years ago, if asked where they thought I'd be living today, would've been "Under the S. Canadian bridge in a squat." ...but she'll have it decorated really cute.

Sure, I would have preferred to be settled in our new home by now, that isn't how it's worked out though. My 'best' is keeping The Mer occupied, keeping the house as full of kids as many kids as I can stand, staying cool in the pool, watching "Big Brother" like a total dork, and reading this, this, and this ,(again) simultaniously.

Green Blog

Because it's 9a.m. and nearing 85 degrees already, because manic posting is cyclical, and the pool doesn't open until eleven...I felt compelled to change my template to match my eco fabulous CO2 saver.

I admit to being one who left "my lover" on endlessly, never turning him off unless, out of desperation and too many browsers open, he failed to respond to my stimulus.

Re-booting was mandatory, not an act of kindness or awareness of the toll taken on this good mother of ours.

Now, it's been too many garage sales later, and I fail to recall just how I came across this little gadget. I'll have you know, in just the past week I've saved 14.35 lbs of CO2, convincing me the extra $50 that started showing up on my electric bill around the time I bought my system is in fact, a direct result of my great North American wastefulness.

Now I am a fashionably green/green, anti CO2 hog...on the verge of homelessness.

"What in the Hell am I doing here?"

Xanax with a 'Z'

Soooo...
I'm sitting here with my life in boxes, minus a few pieces strategically placed to resemble a home, ready to close on the house, when the feds change their ...their, whatever it is they changed. I'm so confused by all this.

My first loan app expired, so my lender had to update my file. Sometime during the last week the government changed the credit requirements for loan approval, kicking me out all together.

No shit.

Soooo...here I sit in boxes, I already said that didn't I? Do I have any idea what will happen at this point? No. Do I have faith it will work out as it should? Yes. Is it 100 degrees in this God forsaken state? Yeppers.

I'm not worried, maybe I should be, but I've just been through too much to let this make me crazy. It will either happen or it wont, buying the house.
If need be I'll lease another year, more inner city. Save gas to school.

Here's the deal:
I wasn't on a bridge that collapsed, and I'm not trapped in a coal mine...my life isn't bad, it's just a pain in the ass.

I have a house full of sprinkler-drenched kids armed with balloons and chicken nuggets. Neighborhood plus mine, and they're in the moment. Kids this age don't know any other way, do they?
Not a bad way to live really...

   

Balloons, nuggets, and living in the moment with a script of Xanax...plus 5 refills.

Big Wind From Winnetka

You know that loan that was "In the bag"? Yeah, well some broad named Fanny May just changed the rules on me...

I'll fill you in when I know what's up, for now let me show you this picture of The Mer's biological father and his windmill.

The windmill he dug out of the neighbors trash heap at one end of the street, slapped a $25 price tag on the thing, then sold it to the neighbor at the other end of the street...

Sigh.

Make Me An Offer...

We're up and running, sales are brisk especially with the Latino community.

I love these hard working people, I love their babies, their Mamasitas, the way they hug my neck...love, love, love these people.

Then, you know someone from your past always shows up.

Enter David Jefferson.

The last time I saw David I was post partem and psychotic.

This is my crap, what's left of it. I pray it's all gone when we shut down tomorrow, everything is going cheap cheap...let's do this!

Why am I doing this? Oh yeah, so The Mer can experience his first (and last) garage sale.

There's a hold up with the loan...we wont be moving on Monday after all, maybe not until the end of the month...and yes I'm nervous as Hell about it.
What was I thinking, that it would go off without a hitch? Whose life is this after  all?

Mine! And I'm utterly, fantastically blessed beyond words.
Yeah, I said that...the heat's getting to me.

Letting Go

It's only a house.
It's going to be OK.
I'm strong enough to do this.
Remember where you were six years ago.

Homeless.
Home-less.
Absent a home.
Absent your children.
Just you, the monkey, and a point-not-of-grace.
Grace is enough, whatever grace really is, to keep me sucking air until I learn to breathe.

Grace.

More than I deserve, and never enough.
If I seem insolent, it's because I am.
Wounds grow brazen women.
Wounds only other brazen women can heal.

Brazen like this one here, or this one...here.

This also is a brazen woman, and this one.

Brazen, brazen, and...BRAZEN.

This one is brazen, but not so much a woman.

We read each other into our lives, and now it's time for me to get back to packing up my life.

A life, that in January of '01, fit into a Honda Civic. A life that now takes a 26' U-haul to move.

If your reading this from a distant place, where no Cicadas sing at dusk, let me tell you...

Oklahoma Cicadas are brazen also.