#uncoffeed...

Michelle posted a tale of 4 cats which tells of the time she was a bad cat-mom. I get this; I've been a bad cat-mom. I've been a bad mom. I'm currently a bad bike-mom to a Bianchi who deserves better. I just went through a round of re-forgiving myself for various ill-conceived decisions I made when I thought I was smart. I've reached a point in my life where all my miscalculations are auto-functioning and I no longer have to monitor them with my guilt; but the guilt doesn't go away, no. However, I can stop following that guilt around with actions meant to mollify it, and I can use the available space I didn't have when I needed to monitor my miscalculations. I can actually do things now that I wanted to do - should have been doing, if we want to use the s-word - back when I was trying to clean up my own messes. It's not as awesome as it sounds; it's awkward. I have space and no instructions on what to do with it, - I should have learned the st...

Outside the laundromat I balanced a bun on my dashboard and applied ketchup to the cold hot dog therein. I realised I was grateful to have a car this time - remember those days of cold-hot-dog household budget? I didn't have bus money then, because I was saving quarters for the laundromat. I lived in a hotel room I rented by the week that had no kitchen. I paid extra for the refrigerator when I could afford it. I'm doing it this time because I want to - talk about it and also eat the hot dog - because groceries are in the car and I don't want to bother with going someplace for prepared food. It's not a punishment to remember whence I came. I am grateful to know exactly how much I can survive. I wonder how it feels to have never been hungry and cold at the same time, for days or weeks on end. If you never had those days, take a minute to consider people you know who probably did and don't talk about it. What's interesting about a hot dog story? You never...

I felt the trepidation within minutes of finalising plans. It comes with the territory when you agree to meet Satan at a pool-hall after work, or anywhere. Satan and I have a long and varied history. The first and last thing  you need to know is that he groks me, for better or worse. I do my best to reciprocate, but I've always told him there were things I didn't wanna know. We haven't had face-time since 2002. Some of the water under the bridge is toxic. If I were to learn next month that I'm dying, though, would I regret a lost chance to hug Satan? Probably, yeah; so we're going in, Legion. I am sure in my skin and not afraid I'll do something I'll later regret. I challenged myself to demonstrate my new ArchetypeMe, show-not-tell. Man, we sure could have made a mess in the old days; we made excellent messes. Not tonight, Satan. Not tonight. Satan has a loyal streak that's Hell-deep. It took him nearly an hour to park his truck safely so ...

Longtime long distance friend Linda Fields posted on Facebook recently: Did you ever wonder whose feet you had on when you bought the shoes you thought fit?  It turns out she was talking literally about shoes. But that wasn't how I read it, and yeah I have, Linda. In allegorical shoes, I really have.  There was that time in middle school when I wrote an erotic fiction book on lined paper and with a pencil; it was passed around the class until my best friend got hold of it. She said she put it in the dog pen and "let the dogs dukey all over it, because that's all it was good for." I wonder if anybody remembers that. I need to realize I can really write a whole book. There was the time I moved to four different states and had three babies with a guy who told me we were like "John and Yoko" - we didn't mean to start a family, but we can rock this, yeah? Turns out he meant I would do the family part and he would do the rock part. There was the t...

I have lived in a lot of the United States.  In fact, it wasn't until this decade that I learned how to go on vacation and come home again, instead of just moving to the place I wanted to see. I can apparently blame this on my Scots-Irish heritage.  I once planned a vacation to visit cities on I-10: Houston, New Orleans, Mobile. I'd lived in these cities during my youthful wanderings and I wanted to show my husband some of my history. I also wanted to see them again as a tourist who could afford the nice restaurants, instead of a single mom who could barely pay the bills. The trip was successful in the latter regard, and in the end I felt awesome. I was able to figure out which of my feelings were based on my experience in that city, which were based on friends who may or may not still be there, and which were for the city itself. I still go back to NO whenever I can - it's a Restore Point for the culture that is important to me: art, music, banging cuisine. Rich m...