how to be awesome
- set rice and water to boil, forget to turn down to simmer, do this twice
- leave your trash cans on the curb for at least 24 hours after they have been emptied
- never iron
- run out of toilet paper, curse, buy costco size and leave it in the family room for three days
- mac and cheese three times a week
- cut, organize and obsess over coupons, then let them expire
- make a plan to eat less and move more, then immediately eat more and move less
- forget no less than 3 appointments each week
- reschedule those appointments and forget at least 2
- write yourself reminder emails and frequently send them to friends instead of yourself
- leave your cell phone everywhere and never know exactly where it is
- if you send birthday cards make sure they are very late or very very early
- stains and missing buttons
- weeds
- typos
- fat
- always forget at least one thing when leaving the house (so far, not one of the children)
- watch reality tv
- put at least eight holes in the wall to hang one picture
- never return phone calls
i grew a flower!


ew!
i made this for dinner the other night, kids loved to see it. only one of them ate it but, he was delighted so i may do it again. i think i'll call it hot ham water. or hot dog octopi. 
tiny 007s




flowers!

if you needed/received flowers lately and need to vent give me a call. i won't tell you to brighten up, i'll just tell you "that sucks *$&#, i'm sorry. let's eat ice cream."
Trouble me, disturb me with all your cares and your worries.Trouble me on the days when you feel spent.Why let your shoulders bend underneath this burdenwhen my back is sturdy and strong?Trouble me.
Speak to me, don't mislead me,the calm I feel means a storm is swelling;there's no telling where it starts or how it ends.Speak to me, why are you buildingthis thick brick wall to defend mewhen your silence is my greatest fear?Why let your shoulders bend underneath this burdenwhen my back is sturdy and strong?Speak to me.
Let me have a look inside these eyes while I'm learning.Please don't hide them just because of tears.Let me send you off to sleep with a"There, there, now stop your turning and tossing."Let me know where the hurt is and how to heal.
Spare me?Don't spare me anything troubling.Trouble me, disturb mewith all your cares and you worries.Speak to me and let our wordsbuild a shelter from the storm.Lastly, let me know what I can mend.There's more, honestly, than my sweet friend,you can see.Trust is what I'm offering if you trouble me-Natalie Merchant
NYC to the rescue
must share the awesomeness
it IS a mad mad mad mad world

J. Algernon Hawthorne: I must say that if I had the grievous misfortune to be a citizen of this benighted country, I should be the most hesitant of offering any criticism whatever of any other.
J. Russell Finch: Wait a minute, are you knocking this country? Are you saying something against America?
J. Algernon Hawthorne: Against it? I should be positively astounded to hear anything that could be said FOR it. Why the whole bloody place is the most unspeakable matriarchy in the whole history of civilization! Look at yourself! The way your wife and her strumpet of a mother push you through the hoop! As far as I can see, American men have been totally emasculated- they're like slaves! They die like flies from coronary thrombosis while their women sit under hairdryers eating chocolates & arranging for every 2nd Tuesday to be some sort of Mother's Day! And this infantile preoccupation with bosoms. In all time in this Godforsaken country, the one thing that has appalled me most of all this this prepostrous preoccupation with bosoms. Don't you realize they have become the dominant theme in American culture: in literature, advertising and all fields of entertainment and everything. I'll wager you anything you like that if American women stopped wearing brassieres, your whole national economy would collapse overnight.
wa-wee
a poem
After an absence that was no one's fault
we are shy with each other,
and our words seem younger than we are,
as if we must return to the time we met
and work ourselves back to the present,
the way you never read a story
from the place you stopped
but always start each book all over again.
Perhaps we should have stayed
tied like mountain climbers
by the safe cord of the phone,
its dial our own small prayer wheel,
our voices less ghostly across the miles,
less awkward than they are now.
I had forgotten the grey in your curls,
that splash of winter over your face,
remembering the younger man
you used to be.
And I feel myself turn old and ordinary,
having to think again of food for supper,
the animals to be tended, the whole riptide
of daily life hidden but perilous
pulling both of us under so fast.
I have dreamed of our bed
as if it were a shore where we would be washed up,
not this striped mattress
we must cover with sheets. I had forgotten
all the old business between us,
like mail unanswered so long that silence
becomes eloquent, a message of its own.
I had even forgotten how married love
is a territory more mysterious
the more it is explored, like one of those terrains
you read about, a garden in the desert
where you stoop to drink, never knowing
if your mouth will fill with water or sand.



