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I need a tent, and sleeping bags.
Why you ask?
Because ten (almost) years ago I ovulated, and now that ovum wants to
go camping with his Cub Scout Pack Friday night.
I have enough bugs in my house, WHY would I want to go out into their
domas?
The consumption of glass shards sounds more appealing, but I had to
have a baby.
This wasn't covered in Lamaze class, and it's a damn good thing for him.
I may have changed my mind.
I'm sure I'm PMS-ing.
Thought we were done with all THAT, but given the choice between PMS and I'm-going-utterly-insane...gonna opt in on the PMS train.
After almost a week straight of volunteering, it's painfully obvious I'll never do kitchen line work again. While the time spent working along side Wilson parents was invigorating, stimulating to know I'm not the only excessively neurotic parent in the bunch (read: love's the babies) I'm way too old to do something like this on a consistent basis. (which I think is a good thing)
Something my brain hasn't caught up to yet...the fact my body is 43 years old, with an almost 10 year-old son.
Between Cub Scouts, dance twice a week, soccer practice, soccer games, counseling, physical therapy, field trips, pictures, pictures and more pictures, now theres a camping trip which I have no tent for...and all the gasoline we use, my God. I'm so ready for summer I want to cry. Compost and cry.
Once this toe is completely healed, I'm running again.
Being a single parent is hard work, and it gets harder each passing year. (day)
I'm ready to cut the hair, gain 20 lbs in muscle, and call myself Hilda in order to keep up with him.
PMS.
Phil of 96.9 BOB FM stopped by the booth yesterday, and not only sampled, but assembled a WORLD FAMOUS Craig & Carter's Fish Taco...too funny.
You can check it out here , since my site is anorexic and can't fit the entire embedded face in. Ah memories, twas that my ass were still as thin.
We rocked the festival yesterday at lunch, with a steady TWO HOUR line at both registers. Apparently making the front page of the "Daily-whateverthatpaperiscalled...Oklahoman" played a part in whetting the yokels appetites, because munch they did...in droves.
Carter Tague, of Craig &, is one of those type A personalities I've read about in books (I'm kidding, you know I don't read books), a man who's taken personal loss and tragedy and channeled it into an idea. An idea that became a passion, a passion that became an obsession.
Tague, grew up (oxymoron) in OKC, attended Heritage Hall, and from the bits and pieces I've been able to gather while the man is flying from one part of his make-shift (but health code A+) kitchen to the next...left for Santa Fe one day on a whim.
One day about seven years ago,Tague and his partner Craig (who is a Wilson Alumni) were sitting around talking about what foods were unavailable here in OKC. Both guys have nearly 50 years combined experience in the food and beverage industry.
I believe it was Tague who said "Let them eat Fish Taco's!" Leading to search and research, far and wide, of what exact ingredients were required to make the best fish taco's in the world.
None of us know what those EXACT ingredients are, but I can tell you from what I've seen so far...the batter is a secret, the vinaigrette we mix into the home made slaw is already prepped when we get there, as is the chipolte dressing.
As if a crew of midnight elves sneak in after we, and the crowds, have all gone.
Carter Tague is a giant kid who loves, lives his obsession...and you can taste it just by looking at him.
OK.
So, there are no pictures of me working like a DOG making Craig & Carter's Famous Fish Taco's, but trust me I did. (Card reader crapped out)
They're just like Rubio's, maybe better. So if you're local and haven't made it down to the arts festival yet, please do so NOW (It's currently NOT raining, I repeat NOT raining)
Proceeds go to a good cause, helping build classrooms at Wilson Arts Integration School. (Yeah, the one I slammed a while back. Hence me working like a dog...it's called MAKING AMENDS)
Look it up.
The crowds have been great, the folks in Oklahoma, regardless of how they vote, are some of the nicest people you'll ever meet.
Stop by Craig & Carter's tent and say hi to me, I'm the one with all the fishy funky hair.
Because I'm doing more for OTHERS (don't ask why, just roll with it)
I committed to work the Baja Fish Taco booth for the PTA at the City Arts Festival ...
the entire week.
Sane mothers do one day...and then there's me.
I don't even know what fish tacos are, but can you imagine what my HAIR will smell like? See, this is why opiates should be a mandatory hand-out for any and all members of PTA's everywhere...to ensure world peace and all.
Mandatory.
When I was numb, I didn't pay much attention to what was happening around me (go fig) now I'm waking up and seeing all levels of insane injustices in the world.
My friend Lea called yesterday morning with news that blew my mind.
The one thing, well the several things you must know about Lea are, one...the simple fact this amazing woman is alive after all she put her body through is a miracle.
Two...Lea is GORGEOUS as the day is long, and Three...has the mind of an effin machine, able to recount dates, times, events, figures, names, places...it never ends.
Lea is STRONG and will not tolerate injustices, Lea will change them.
So here is the insanity we live in Okie-wise, where now it is LAW a woman seeking an abortion must undergo an additional step of humiliation and shame surrounding her body. As decided by a house full of men.
Lea, who WILL make big changes in this world, suggested we get a group of sober chicks together and volunteer to drive ladies across the state line who wish to not be SHAMED out of making a DECISION about their own bodies.
I got so upset, I started looking on ebay for a Polaroid to fix me, then I saw the cost of the film.
Crap.
So, the question I have to ask myself is this: Had I known at the time I became pregnant I was eventually going to lose my daughter, never hold her when she was scared, never brush our teeth together in the mirror, never have any contact, never know if she was well, never know if she looked like her brother, me, or whatshisname, never know if she ever learned her ABC's, 123's or to laugh...had I known all these things, would I have gone ahead and aborted her?
Hell yes I would have! That bitch stole my kid! If I can't have her no one can!
Damn, I wish I were healthier than this, but this is the ginormous resentment that lead to the PK slip, trip, collapse...
I don't really mean it of course, it just hurts BAD, because my children, my son is my LIFE...everything I do is about being a MOM. My life is totally on hold while I raise my son because that's what we DO as mothers. It's so utterly unfathomable to not have my other child, nor any contact with her, which is all I want. Contact.
Well toots, you don't always get what you want, but you get what you need...
I fought the males in my life nine years almost ago, to NOT have an abortion with Athena. I WANTED my daughter. I WANTED my daughter, I had a doula, I went to birthing classes, I had a baby shower...I WANTED my daughter.
BUT. Had I NOT wanted my daughter, I would have accepted the offer of funds to assist in an abortion, and I'd have done it. Period. The thought of these Pro-lifers enacting laws effecting my choices and decisions surrounding what I do or do not do with MY BODY...scares the hell out of me.
As it should you.
We have over 400,000 children in the foster care system in the United States, and it's growing every day. Women who cannot afford abortions, or who are shamed out of having them, women who have no business with five kids living off the system. Mothers who have no fathers for their children, then become a burden on the broken system, mothers who use chemical assistance to get through the bleakness of their lives, then neglect these children (because the disease of addiction doesn't give a FLIP about maternal instinct) and the beat goes on...
Who's going to raise these children to adulthood...y'all?
I am now Physicianless again.
Receipt of a certified letter explaining in bold print how NO DOCTOR at O.U. Family Medicine would be able to "meet my medical expectation."
Tell me that wasn't written by a Laywer?
The most frustrating thing about this incident, has been my level of honesty and willingness to "Please stay off the long acting Opiates, ANY opiates."
As begging like Oliver Twists SHOULD, under normal circumstances protect me from a Dr. wanting to medicate me instead of heal me.
Not so.
Once I finally got through to a human being on the phone, one of the administrative-superintendent-God-fearing-AND blessing types...she informs me, as acting as liaison between said FEMALE Physician (whom I specifically requested)...
shares with me, little-to-nothing of what actually occurred at my one and only visit over a month ago.
Because I'm a "Basement made Journalist" I said "Let me see if I understand this correctly, Dr Seymore, and additionally no other Physician at your facility are willing to treat me because I refused at my initial visit to take long acting opiates for pain management therapy as had been previously prescribed by my last Physician? (whom coincidently is on faculty) Is that correct?"
"Yes"
Holy mother of Oxycontin, what the hell is happening in this country?
I have writers block.
Unlike my friend Jonathan on the other side of the world,
who if he doesn't write his head explodes...
He does this constant writing, not only of the English language, but of code.
All the while fathering three little balls of glorious feminine energy.
And I bitch.
I also just realized this morning (even though I talk to this man almost daily)
there is no link to his site on mine.
Do not ask me how this happened, I do not know.
I am lucky to find my car keys.
Seriously, LOOK.
There's no "PluggedOut.com" listed anywhere on my site.
Nary a mention of my dear friend in London.
This is why we cannot get a dog yet...I would lose it.
Dear Jonathan (that's YOU)
My deepest and sincerest apologies (and to anyone else I've "Lost" along the way)
You have stood by me through thick and thin (my ass)
Through the garden of "Eden" and the hell of Opiates.
You have walked me through cut-off notices, evictions, house hunting, closings, cabana livin' and more...
You have asked after Mer, shared your new found parenthood, did the "config thing" on my "Lover", blessed me again and again with your friendship, and what do I go and do?
I de-link you.
My head hangs low with shame (not really, but...you know)
A debt of gratitude I owe you, for year after year standing by.
Jonathan Beckett, my friend.
I bought a house.
Remember, in SEPTEMBER?
I bought a house.
Now, it's APRIL.
What happens in April when you own a house?
Shit grows, neighbors come out of their houses...where their shit is growing, and everyone starts making love to their yards.
Making love to your yard takes money, effort, and TIME...it takes being IN LOVE with your yard mostly, which I am not.
I'm still grieving my last lost lover, um...yard. In all it's glory!
Oh how I miss thee...
My current property has exactly ONE tree.
One.
I can't even look at "the garden's" flickr link ...my love, but alas you were not mine.
(typical)
So I own my house with ONE tree and no grass (all weeds) and yesterday started the process of raking all those dead leaves (from the vacant lot next door) up and putting them is sacks.
Truthfully something I've never done in my life. The Mer helped with his little rake, then held open all those sacks so I could deposit leaves into them.
During the course of the afternoon, not one, but TWO men I know came by to say hello. This dear reader is why I am STILL single. I have a broken foot and a nine-year-old kid the size of a five-year-old kid...and these men stop by to say "Hi"?.
Not "Hey, let me help you do that...you shouldn't be on that foot" or "Hey, want a hand?" (just because)
I still expect a lush garden with no work, and a knight on a...gray horse (I'm TRYING to live in reality) because what only another single mother could possibly understand, is all 999 things I have going at once. Four of them will get done before they cut a utility off, limiting the amount of mandatory "get done things" down to 599...at least I'll get a break...
My friend JERRY (yes, I'm talking to you) is making the WORST decision of his life possibly, moving out of his house and in with a predatory animal...but it's his life and I have to let him go. I hate letting people go...almost as much as I've found I hate raking leaves.
However, the time spent with Mer has been utterly amazing. Spring is here, and we have one tiny red tulip someone planted a hundred years ago, coming up in our yard. A patch of purple hyacinth in the back...
Life. I have to learn to read between the weeds.
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