Sep 27, 2010


The moulding wetness of the last few weeks had dried to a fine autumnal haze, a midpoint twixt a fleeting summer and the oncoming hibernatory season. Crispy deadness scrunching through summer's memories as I shuffle off to work.

My internal balance found once more as I shed my own-made obstacles in favour of a freeness of spirit. My last winter fed me sea and salt while summer faded too early. Sun baked warmth leeching from tanned flesh faster than it should.

But naught to fear since the cinnamon call sings persistently in the back brain waiting for opportunity to arrive.

Sep 5, 2010

come and gone ...

Demarra sweetness to the ears and spicy heartbeats, sweet grass laughter and cinnamon smiles. The call you haven't been waiting for rings unannounced and makes a magic java morning that much better.

Dusty sunshine needs a telehug and a well in which to dump her electric tension. No problemo, the bottomless is here. That's why she called. What are friends for after all but to share the load.

Suck up that creative juiciness and spit it back out as art, at the same time committing your passion to the other and hoping the client likes the finished product as much as you seem to do.

Some clean sweeping, sloughing the dross that has collected, once desired but now unused. Fresh nag champa wafting through the hall lulling the forebrain, suggesting a sort of sittedness. Let it float and go. You don't really want to keep the inner trash anymore than you really need the outer.

Free yourself. Only you can.

Sep 4, 2010

another friday nite

When you are alone and fighting the despondency that threatens and a couple of friends show up.  Count yourself lucky.

The darkness threatens. suffocating in intensity to be lightened by the driven but motivated visions of your friends. They could be anywhere else but they are here. They smell alive, they sound invested, and they do not release you to the voices. They engage, laugh, argue, and come to terms.

They keep me safe from myself. why? Shouldn't I just let go?

Aug 29, 2010

rainy echoes

of fresh springtime mornings with overtones of almost ready for death, pungent earthy and all too real. Summer fades in and out daily, teasing the serotonin and fucking with the olfactory definitions. It feels like autumn, smells like spring and should be the full blown glory of late summer harvest.


ahhhh. there it is. Some randomly escaped pollen or grain dust that has wended its way through the catapulting drops just to let me know it really is still summer.

The children all go back to school tomorrow and the world will ring with the stank of fear and occasional incontinence on buses locked away from life over summer while mothers do their joyous "the house is mine" dances and the neighbours' dogs  wander lazy through their yards without no worry of debris pelting them from over the fence.  At least until 3 oclock.

Aug 17, 2010


spicy smooth sharp sweet tart. like love in the afternoon. all those things that make your belly groove and your feet dance without moving. even after a day of chasing the answers that continually evade you as the energy runs high. wanting...

I'm told by astrological experts, the I Ching, tarot (pick a flavour), & chakra readings plus my own unavoidable pulse, that "I desire" is the phrase that best describes me yet...  it's no longer about what I desire but more about what I choose not to be.

experience grants perspective and occasionally knowledge, though the interbeing does not always work itself out in terms which you may or may not understand.

do you?

Aug 15, 2010


We define/analyze/interpret every experience through the amalgamation of knowledge & action applied to sensory input. Rarely can one separate out a single sense, thought, or movement and say "There, it was that.", because we are all like baked onions. Semi-transparent layers on layers soaked through with demerra sugar and real butter, all jumbled together and impossible to pick apart. The onions sugar and butter inter-are*.

Like a memory that surfaces "a la deja vu"  bringing the past into the present, enriching/polluting the now with the then. Sense memories creating the range of predilection you inherit through your experience. Nothing really ever stands alone.

My head and heart & soul have always been filled with the cacophony of aroma that is my primary memory sense.

The blog is an expression of how I inter-am.

* Thich Nat Han

Publish Post

Jul 8, 2010

heh heh heh

Great conversations Sunday ;) 'nuff said.

Great day for a road trip, went out to Moose Jaw for Mikey's bday supper. Only one cousin there - mostly just the adults. It was nice. The renos are going very well and everyone out there seems to be fairly happy. YAY!

it's been a long week.

Jun 26, 2010


I find myself in a singularly strange place. The sugar has a bee in his bonnet that I am seeing someone else. I have not. I have told him I have not. I thought the nascent friendship was a done deal but apparently not. It might be a week or 10 days between calls, but he does call. After 10 days, I call him. He always picks up or calls back fairly soon. That's a good thing.

Did I mention I do things backwards. Synopsis. Met him. We spent probably 12 hours on the phone in 5 days. He came over - sparks flew. We saw each other regularly for about 10 weeks. He makes a statement that he is getting too attached so better a small hurt now than a big one later, because he ALWAYS gets burned. I figure it's over. He calls.

I haven't seen him in 6 or 7 weeks, the calls are coming more often again. Conversation is less stilted. Okay. Works for me. If I can go 6 years 6 weeks is no biggy ;)

Missed his call Thursday, called him back Friday. Told him where I was Thurs blah blah blah, we rang off. 20 minutes later he called back? In a fairly accusatory manner he questioned how I could take my grandson to a baseball game in the nasty/rain hail storm and then for ice cream? I calmly corrected him and repeated that I went to the grandson's because he was supposed to have a game and he asked me to go, yes I drive through crazy rain and some hail on Elphinstone to get there, the league had not yet called to cancel the game but that was fairly obvious so I took the grands to the store for ice cream.

He then went on about women being untruthful which is why he lives alone and doesn't want a relationship of any kind. NOTE : HE CALLS ME. An I correct him again to say that PEOPLE lie. Wish they wouldn't but they do and rapped of my list of getting burned by men (2 engagements 2 divorces and misc). Not having a leg to stand on he agrees and the conversation continues.

But now I'm actually angry. Don't get me wrong - I like him and consider him my friend but this is not an invested "relationship" for me. This conversation, some opposite gender attention that makes me feel all womanly, and some really great sex. And it would be great if he thought the same - even though it is what he professes.

So I asked him if he was seeing anyone? No. He asked me and I said no the only man that I've seen since we started visiting is you. But you haven't seen me in awhile he says to me. What so he thinks I'll just run out and find someone else??? stupid man.

My response:I have told you no every time you ask and the point here is that until you decide that you will trust what I say I am aware that you will not believe me. Nor will you believe anyone I know because you have decided in your head that I - like all the other women in your life will burn you too. I am not like that. I do not see two men at the same time, poor form.

And then I told him that I was NOT looking for the relationship, but enjoyed his company and conversation and the great sex. I also told him I had some patience and was willing to wait and see if he could get past his instinct to find reality.

So he changed the subject and about half an hour later said he'd call me tomorrow and we rang off.

I missed his call today as I was at a bbq.

So that's 3 calls in 3 days and the first argument. I'm fair dinkum sure he got the message. The question is how much patience do I want to have here?

If only I had never been in his shoes.

Jun 18, 2010


Live sun warmed mahogany, supple and smooth yet strong and flexible with its years solidly rooted in the here and now. Aubergine rich bitterness until salted raising questions all along the taste buds. Doubled velvet so soft it mimics fur without the sneezing. Melodious tones and belly warming chuckles that ignite a smile from the inside out. Spicy hot aromas floating from the kitchen playing olfactory tug of war with the cinnamon of flesh and murmurs from the deeps.

May 27, 2010

today is a full moon

I always want to go out and howl this time in the lunar cysle, and often find myself having gone that extra step or two over the line, usually with video proof, ecause I always tell the peeps that they are exaggerating. Gotta love technology ;) But then I have a camera TOO>

Wish me luck - I have to get through an entire 3 day weekend in the rain. I know I'm drip dry but honestly ... what about the hair?

May 14, 2010


I simply want to reach out and gobble you up.

But I'm not allowed.

That sucks.

May 13, 2010

oh my!

Sometimes I should just shut my pie hole. Not everyone wants to hear the questions I have to ask, and in fact I seem most pressed to ask those who will react worst most. Got it? The content is details.

Shut up.Shut up.Shut up.Shut up.Shut up.Shut up.Shut up.Shut up.Shut up.

Just don't.

May 9, 2010


The ongoing saga:

I called mr. sunshine on Friday and he had plans to watch the hockey game so I made plans to go out and visit some friends I hadn't seen for a bit. It had been a crazy week at work and I'd mostly stayed in of an evening fighting with my insomnia. So when my nephew called and asked me to come down to the pub cause my friends were wondering where I was, away I went. After the pub we hit the gaslight and later the club, and I was home round 1:30. Saturday did some running around and kept it on the down low.

Sunday at 8:20 in the morning mr. sunshine calls. I missed it because I was in the basement doing laundry, so I called him back when I got upstairs. It was kind of strange and really very early to be calling on a sunday, especially mother's day, but whatever. We had a lovely chat about what had gone on during the week, caught up on what we'd been doing and Seth's ball game and the playoffs etc. I told him my plans for the day and he shared his. Regular stuff. He got interrupted with call irritating and then he called me back. We talked for a while longer and then rang off.

But why so early? On a sunday? Just seemed strange.

Mom's day

I miss my mom with all my heart. Sometimes I don't think about her for weeks on end I'm sure, and that's okay, she's been gone almost 18 years. But then there are those moments when I get a flash out of the corner of my eye and I am absolutely positive to the center of my being that she just turned a corner down the street.

And there I stand frozen, amid the rush of downtown pedestrians, lost in enough misery it's all I can do to stand there and not sob. An island of emptiness in the flow of everyday life. It fades, what seems like hours was only a minute or two, but damn.

And then there are the occasions like my grandotter's 10th birthday that I really wish she could have celebrated with us. She would have been so proud of the job Amanda is doing and loved Miss Devi to bits.

I was at the park yesterday watching some families of geese with the teeny newborn goslings all fluffy yellow and got a warm fuzzy thinking that mom would have been taking that picture too.

Mom, your image may not be in my brain any longer but your laughter will forever peal in my heart and your compassion is a constant reminder to live doing the least damage.

Love you always.

May 6, 2010

passive defiance

Thank you Ghandiji.

The persistence of flowing water will etch new rivers in the bedrock. The mindless unrelenting pressure of gravity births diamonds.

Here I stand.

May 5, 2010


The meter of raindrops hitting pavement, air redolent with new grown grass.
Radiators in the last throws of k-chinking before their seasonal nap.
Creaks in moisture locked doors and squeaky winter locked windows.

Morning surprise,
a whitened world, crunchy underneath quickly melting slightly frozen water.

My sunshine is still missing.

May 2, 2010


So we had a great long conversation today - much like all of our previous conversations even though we haven't spoken in a week. I haven't called because I don't really know if I should be, given the circumstances and trying to be diplomatic. Apparently he didn't call because he wasn't sure if he should be intruding in my life after our last convo even though he said he'd call.

So we're both thinking about each other and doing nothing about it.

Fucking ridiculous.

I think we've managed to sort that out anyway.

Chatting about the music he's listening to, a great reggae beat, he explains that it's all about the feeling and the lyric and what it means. It's not something to just pop along in your car to but something to really pay attention to. The singer is tellin' a woman he's always there for her - she's never alone, she can always call on him and the woman answers that she will always be fine because she knows she's never alone, cause he'll always be there on the other end of the line. Just lyrics?

Then we talked about trust and real friendship and politeness and treating people decently and not making judgements without knowing who the people are and giving them a chance to show that their inside doesn't always match the outside. Sure some people are whom they seem on first glance but most of us are so much more. So again we have pretty much the same opinion about how to treat people, with respect until they prove differently.

And then threads back to not having many real friends cause then you have to trust them, and most people aren't trustworthy. A point of contention. Maybe not most but I think that that is a healthy percentage of trustworthy folk out there - well most days.

And then a lot of other stuff about violence and boxing and hockey and back to music, and driving, and age, oh and some chain pulling, and gardens.

Apr 29, 2010


I know what anonymity is supposed to be, but when combined with the interwebs and the blogdasphere, can you really remain anonymous? Sure sign up for a new webmail address somewhere - a pain - then register with blogspot etal - more pain and passwords to track - fill in all the blanks with fake info to obscure the path for any truly stalky people - biggest pain. And then write to your heart's content, without using any real names or places or dates.

I might as well write a freaking novella.

Then, once you have it begun, how do you direct the people you want to read that blog to GO to that blog, without spilling the personality beans? Won't they, if they are any kind of observant or familiar with you or your work, figure it out fairly easily?

Or maybe I should just write what I need and take the ultimate consequences for trying to work out my shit in a relatively public venue, then refuse to discuss anything I write on my blog in person, therefore creating some distance in which to cogitate before rampaging and ruining my everday personal relationships?


Maybe I should go back to paper.

Apr 23, 2010

tower windows

Guess I'll have to incorporate some windows and maybe a balcony into the tower - he called Wednesday. I was getting ready to grill a steak for supper and he asked me who I was cooking for??? and I find myself just not knowing what to say.

Ha ha. Not funny.

I have however, determined that I miss him.


Apr 20, 2010

the tower of solitude

Once upon a time there was a young woman who opened her heart to all and sundry. It got trampled. Over and over and over. She kept on putting it out there and it kept getting thumped on and broken and cracked and burned and yet it kept on working and she just kept on opening the door in search of happyness. Try as she might - she could never find that one person that everyone kept telling her was out there waiting for her. She thought she had a few times, but she was wrong, and those were some of the worst heart rendings because the ones she found had MOST of what she was looking for, but they were to far flawed, but still she made it through. Her heart was a little raggedy when she glimpsed certain profiles out the corner of her eye, there were pieces missing that she would never recover because she had given them away never to be returned, and there were a few dead patches where the burns had never really recovered after the torching of the original heartland, but the majority was still pumping away and attempting continuous self repair.

The last serious "friendship" she engaged in was based on just that friendship and shared joy. It worked for a while, neither side wanting the permanency of the whole living together thing. It was great for her, but he was quite a bit older and eventually wanted to find someone more in tune generationally. The more mature yet still young at heart woman took it harder than she had imagined because the heart strings had not followed orders and gotten tangled up in some minor chords when they were told to stay silent. The untangling was sharply painful for a short time and after that the woman decided fuck it - enough.

She built her tower back up (the foundations were still there from teenhood and two divorces) - where the heart can be defended and not defeated. She isolated herself from those intimate friendships that only lead to heartache. Sick of pain, she detested the wrack of self doubt that was the end of every such friendship because no matter what they said she always felt it was something about her. She embraced the abnegation of society's dictum that every woman NEEDS a man, or at least that special partner in her life.

For almost seven years she kept true to that isolation. Sure it was lonely sometimes. Sure she missed the intimate companionship of that "someone special", but those momentary lapses didn't even begin to copmare to the benefits of growing a whole new set of real friendships, of determining what she wanted to do with the rest of her life, purchasing her first home, or being truly single for the first time since she was 16. Learning to live with all her good and bad parts and working through decades of previous resentment and regret until she could stand on the top of the tower and see for miles and miles an miles and maybe - look herself straight in a mirror. Oh yeah.

The last couple of years in tower she started to build a deck at the base, inviting a select minority close enough for the heart strings to perk up. Then she began to wonder if the self imposed solitude wasn't now more of a hindrance or an escape instead of a haven of safety. She eventually decided that the tower would have to come down, and not being one for general procrastination, timber... and away it went.

Starting over. So there she was, kind of shiny and new, still tentative about her physical self but grounded spiritually and on balance (for the most part) emotionally. She took the big step and was truly joyful that she had, but it opened other doors long shuttered.

And then she met a gentleman who had also been spending time in a self imposed tower, and the door to his seemed to be swinging open. A quirky coincidence in a world full of them. They looked each other right in the eye and they weren't strangers. They spent long hours on the phone and talked about everything under the sun: politics, culture, music, framily, even religion all sprinkled with interjections that both cherished their independence and did not want a "relationship" because both had been burned before. He made her smile and laugh and feel womanly, and his laugh was a smooth deep rumble that came right from the belly. When they were together the sparks flew, phantasmagorical would be a good word.

Then he called her because he had this gut feeling that she was interested in some one else - NOT. She hadn't even looked, she denied it. He only half believed her - he told her directly. She was seriously confused. Where the hell did that come from? They'd spoken just Yesterday and seen each other less than a week before. After much discussion he admitted he was stressed because maybe he was becoming too "attached" to her.

Figures: Everything was going too well, everything fit. But he was completely freaked about it growing into a "relationship" in which he was sure he would get burned. She had assured him at the beginning that she wasn't looking for the "commitment". He saw that the more time they spent together the more attached he became and since historically he always got burned, he did not want to work through that pain ever again - that was why he built his tower in the first place. Both of them thought they could be "really" good friends without commitment to more than intimate exclusivity. He finally decided to believe that she was truth telling when she said he was the only one. She tried to get him to understand that just because she was not actively looking for that "relationship", that didn't mean she was adverse to considering it if it happened to develop. He said it'll hurt even more if it lasts a year. The intimacy that they had been sharing had grown despite their denials, it had become more than "just casual".

He told her he really cared for her,it was all him and his fear of betrayal. But they could still talk on the phone right? She told him how much she enjoyed the conversations and said yes. Then he asked, "we're still good friends right, so they could go out for drinks, or visit each other. Do things more slowly"

And she was confused: was the intimate part of the friendship ending because he was more afraid of the possible future pain and did he think that if they stopped the physical part of their friendship the attachment would go away?". Because as far as she was concerned their conversations just made the attachment all that much deeper - but maybe it was different for him.

And he hoped she wasn't angry and she was still his friend.

And she started hauling stone for a new tower of her own.

Apr 14, 2010

mmm mmm good

Amazing how every friendship you have evolves through the dynamic that you share. Transported to places never even imagined. Knowledge that you assumed was held by everyone over the age of 25, is not. Slap. About face.

Personal experience mirrors his in some ways and yet in others I am apparently from an entirely foreign planet. Talk about disconcertingly enticing. Murky with mystery, sharp with risk, and sweet with anticipation, an argentinian tango playing over a deep reggae beat. Ground and grounded. I want you but on my terms, are they the same as your terms, I want to keep my independence and I want you to keep yours, and you want yours and mine but come here for a bit, and now I'm busy you're busy, telephone tag, waiting for a call, ending a call, hours on the phone, wanting it all and not at all. Big secrets little funnies, history and future plans, family, friends, enemies, work, home, and holiday, all up for discussion.

Touch, the gentle fire brighter than a nuclear storm. Soul watching bright eyes. A gentle pressure in the middle of your back, a finger along a jawline, a brush of a hip as you turn a corner. Breath in your hair, the grasp of a wrist and the softest kiss hello/goodbye/seeyousoon.

all wound up in a single tasty package.

Apr 7, 2010

personal saboteur

How many times have you gotten to a place in your life where everything finally seems normal? How many times has it blown up in your face? Whose fault was it?

Good job, nice home, great friends. A new found confidence and a centeredness that's been missing for a long time. A real laugh, not just bravado or simple amusement. Sure the kids are going through some rough times but that isn't really my worry, that's what life is about, finding your way through it. The rest of the family seems to be working out their various problems, it all takes time. I even took a chance and started to build another friendship. And I think I've blown it entirely.

All my fault.

I had no idea how much it would hurt when John died. It was all so long ago and we had found a way back to the friendship after the foo fur rah settled out. But when I got the news I simply lost it. Granted I've lost 2 other friends in the last 6 weeks, but man oh man.

I went home and decided to try and numb it. Might not have been the best decision since half way into the bottle my friend called. With a friendship in its infancy - where both of you have expressed your fears about relationships, a needy pain wracked maudlin drunk is not something you necessarily want to inflict on the other person. The first two hours of the conversation - ok. but then there is about an hour gap. I don't know what I said. I don't know what he said. Vaguish memories taunt me now, and I fear that I have once again sabotaged my own happiness.

I called him the next day. Thanked him for listening, apologized for any foolishness, he said no worries - I didn't put anything on him. And there was a fair silence when I told him I didn't remember that last hour on the phone. Me and my blatant honesty should learn to shut up. I have no idea where that leaves the friendship. I'm betting he doesn't call back.

And I am back to square one - or maybe minus five - I don't even know.

And I did it to myself.


Apr 5, 2010

april showers ...

It isn't actually raining and it was a beautiful week end, but it is back to work and though spring is in the air I am still shaking off the winter doldrums.

Early Friday road trip to the Jaw and pa pa. Took the boyo and miss enchanting for coffee. Everything seems to be going well out there and it was great to see the rents. The kids even inherited an new little freezer and some file cabinets for their new house.

It was a fair quiet weekend though I did spend Saturday visiting, and had an absolute blast with the crew at the dance party Saturday night ~ great idea Abigail.

The grand children have given up the ghost on the tooth fairy and the easter bunny - so sad, thanks to their TEACHERs - who have likely murdered Santa in the process and who really ought to keep their respective noses out of the cultural myths we choose to relate to our children. I really would like to smack both those women ~ don't kids have to grow up too soon as it is ~ you have to steal the magic too?

I did realize this week that my compassion is more deeply rooted than any resentment or sense of betrayal I may be hanging onto. Big step forward.

Deb is getting better slowly but last night she was coughing so deeply that I pretty much stayed up all night and sneaked into her room every hour and a half or so - to check that she's breathing - cause I was having nightmares about calling 911 in the morning. I was so happy to hear her voice when her alarm went off at 7am. Whew!

Otherwise it was a lovely 3 days off and I am looking forward to a similar weekend shortly.

Mar 25, 2010

delayed gratification

Is supposed to be a good thing. The increased anticipation heightens your awareness. With your senses are peaking, you become just that much more sensitive to the vibes around you. You look forward instead of backward, creating an aura of positivism .... Right?

Or you feel like you're walking around waiting for someone to trigger a freaking heart attack. Hmmm not so positive.

I'm thinking a little less delay and a little more gratification may be in order.

Mar 21, 2010

it's been awhile ...

Long hours in soft conversation punctuated by belly laughs and shared phrases. Straight up intimate questions that get gut honest answers with no bullshit in the way. Exploring diverging experience and philosophies to determine mutual boundaries. Learning the differences in perspective by seeking to bridge a cultural divide without becoming defensive, just because of difference. Celebrating diversity in a whole new way.

Allowing those ideas and opinions long held in silence to be aired with someone you are just getting to know, when you would not previously explore them even with your best friends. Relishing the newness, the creation of a friendship without ulterior motives because you both have the same approximate game plan where neither party is looking for some pie in the sky silver lined dream world, but a rooted earthy understanding between adults who like each other but are not even close to giving up their independence.

The little joy that jolts you when he calls, just because he calls and his voice makes you smile because all he really wants at that moment is to talk to you. Recognizing that the connection seems like its been there forever, there is a comfortableness in play that came out of nowhere - old friends newly met and having him bring that very subject up in our last conversation.

Telling me that he considers me his very good friend on a level above and beyond the physical sense, that I am a beautiful intelligent woman who deeply interests him and allowing myself to believe him. It's hard for broken people to take that leap - to open up and trust that you won't get burned again. Stepping out of a purposefully insulated years worn cocoon where intimate involvement is concerned is a damn scary thing. For him and I. Finding the other person willing to discuss and explore that fear at length, in terms of the friendship you are currently building - that's a priceless gift.

To find that respectful inclusion coupled with a similarity in passion - don't think I've ever been here before.

But man, our worlds are different.

Mar 10, 2010


Tues - concert
Wed - tanning & laundry (which I again did not do)
Thurs - visit with Luanne, actually do the laundry
Fri - Tanning, Remi's bday at BPs, karaoke and something else I've forgotten
Sat - sugar and Minda's bday at McNally's
Sun - house stuff, sewing
Mon - tanning
Tues - Ryan's bday @ OHans
Wed - ST PADDYs day
Thurs - vacay - recovering

Mar 7, 2010

That traitor Father Nature.

A woman would not curse EVERY other woman with such an intrusive, disgusting never fucking ending cycle, so I will now be calling it Father Nature.

I had plans and that mofo screwed them royally.

I track it, I do what I am supposed to and is it on TIME? Of course not. I figure Father Nature and Murphy must be home boys, just laughing as women struggle to schedule their lives around cramps, trips to the drugstore, mood swings that would kill any pitcher in the major leagues, juggled in with trying to maintain some kind of intimate friendship when you're both working.

Totally scrambled my happy sunday plans, and forced me top find a less obvious reason for canceling since I choose not to enlighten the paramour concerning things female. We aren't even close to discussing that.

So there were several very long phone calls this week end - but it just is not the same thing as being able to touch/smell/taste him. damn.

Mar 6, 2010

the devil inside

I now find myself attempting to come to grips with an old familiar not seen for many moons. With the release of the demon and the grand opening of passion into my life, comes an entire host of physiological, emotional and mental gymnastics that have not been plaguing me for well over 6 years.

The choice to remain celibate began as an option to figure my own shit out. Having finally realized the optimum relationship - that being one that ends with my dignity, relative emotional capacity, and wallet still in hand, as well as several friends to lean on should the need arise, (my habit was to render all other relationships null & void in the pursuit and maintenance of my single intimate relationship) I decided I needed to figure out who the fuck I was at that point, and what was it that I actually wanted to do with the rest of my life. Unfortunately, I may have taken it a tad too far.

The immense personal growth and other successes both creative and financial that I have enjoyed in the ensuing years notwithstanding, I am fair sure now that the last 2 maybe three years have been pure repression due to lack of risk-taking value and fear of failure, peppered with the tasteless truth that I sure as hell didn't want to sleep with what I perceived in the mirror.

Whoa now. Calm yourselves. Let's be honest - we are daily bombarded with the north american image/supposed standard of beauty, so there can be no denying that it will warp some of us - especially when the tide of self confidence is at its lowest and one has detached herself from any intimate relationship for a LONG damn time.

Add to that the true nature of the woman in question, a lusty wench who has embraced the touch and taste and smell of sex since her teens, and had never previously been celibate for mare than - oh I don't know - 6 months tops after a particularly heartbreaking badly ended marriage, and you get an anarchic chaotic pheremonal mess of released estrogenic proportions not often seen in this drear and often passion less society.

So here I am. The urge to merge creating a melodic line with my heartbeat and echoing down my spine with every freaking step I take. It was bad enough (button) when it was just the shiny things that distracted me (piece of tinfoil), but now the olfactory buffet is foremost and (shiny things) have become (man scent). I find myself perusing body lines under shirts/jackets/pants with lowered eyelids and a lopsided grin on my face. Watching the eyes - and some of the reaction I get when I look directly into their faces is hilarious. I have to wonder what expression I'm wearing. Voices - strong yet soft, and an accent is even better. And the hands, man, a great pair of hands will melt me.

Overwhelmed with sensations repressed too long for someone of my base nature. And I must admit, struggling to get a "mature" handle on them, while truly enjoying the "kid in a candy shop" adventure of the whole process. I 'm dreaming all the time now - and the return of the sex dreams like I haven't since my 20s is giving me insomnia. My nipples are so sensitive that if I brush them with my OWN damn arm - in a winter coat, it becomes an issue. My whole fucking parsing section of my brain is a double entendre.

And there is no way, I mean NO WAY, I would even attempt to interrupt the process at this point. That would wrack me.

So on I go an infinitely passionate slightly kooky sherman tank on double estrogen, just hoping I don't make so many mistakes this time.

Mar 2, 2010

quiet man

He tells me he's a quiet man. People that know him tell me he's a quiet man. For a quiet man he sure does talk a lot. One in particular was totally amazed that we spend two sometimes three hours at a time on the phone just verbally wandering through our experience just asking questions and making each other laugh. Apparently he also doesn`t spend much time on the phone yet we talk at least every second day. And we`re both afraid of `relationships` and want to maintain our independence, our safe space that it has taken us so much to acquire. So there are quite a few similarities.

We were making fun of some damn fools getting married when he asked me today if I would ever get married again. I had to really think about that. It`s certainly not something on my immediate horizon. Having been divorced twice it`s taken me 7 years to sort out who I am all on my own, and only the last have I not been responsible for anyone except me since I was 16. I believe in marriage - sharing lives for two people who love each other tenderly and deeply, but I am not going there any time soon. I told him maybe if I fell in love with someone, spent enough time with them and trusted them I would consider doing it again. He said he didn`t fall in love, he stands in love - to which I laughed and mentioned that was a Snoop Dog phrase. He was surprised. But in a way I agree with him. Either way - love is not at issue in the here and now. Unlawful carnal knowledge, mutual interests, and the curiosity of the new is what it`s about right now.

He makes me feel womanly and desirable and soft - I even bought a PINK shirt.
I sound ... knock wood ... happy.
And I deserve it.

Feb 27, 2010


an all the way to your toes happy buddha smile when you hear that voice.
everyday conversations that leave you feeling better than you were for no particular reason.
childhood story telling.
exploration of a private universe.
a chuckle that sparks the spidey senses to tingling.
finishing each others' sentences.
finding more connections than you thought possible
a mere touch that heats like an acetylene torch.
the freedom to say what you really feel not what you think they want to hear.
everything fits.
shared silence.

Feb 23, 2010

ch ch ch ch changes ... turn yourself around ...

Foreign countries are wonderful. Every breath you take is new. The preconceptions that you have lived with daily for decades do not necessarily apply.

culture shock.

The best way for me to get over it is to jump right in. I may blunder around a bit at first but I have found that I am pretty quick on my feet when it comes to adapting and a smile and a sense of the ridiculous work wonders when you make a mistake.

It only took me 4 days to learn to HEAR what was being said to me. At first I simply could not wrap my head around it. Then I almost didn't want to because knowing me, it might not be a good thing for me to believe what I found myself immersed in. And then it was too late.

Only a few times in my life have I experienced that intensity of positive attention by complete strangers who looked me directly in my eyes when they spoke to me. Softly but with a conviction and body language that could not be denied no matter how paranoid I was at being played. Intense and steady like the ocean. The quiet refusal to take no for an answer, and I said no many times. The persistence to find me three or four times a day for a conversation or a knowing wink and a cheshire grin - so sure he'd get what he wanted.

The infinite game of cat and mouse that has mesmerized humanity for millennia. Yes no maybe. The flash of a smile that read like an adventure novel and a sense of self that simply refused to be ignored. It was like looking into a historical mirror. I knew that guy. And gradually I realized I was still that girl.

He innately knew just how to find her. Laughter and smart ass cracks, crinkled eyes and and a voice so deep you wanted to find out how deep the well was. Always with the quick repartee, the master of patter trading shots with the newly minted come back queen. Brutally honest and straight forward and simple words. Full of himself and going after what he wanted. An ambitious young man with a plan who still took time to play.

We traded stories and secrets, laughed at ourselves and our framilies. Compared recipes and educational systems, politics and travel. We questioned each others motives and principles. Where did you want to be someday and why? What would you do there? What's the best/worst thing about your life right now? If you could change one thing what would it be? The answers from both of us were surprising. And music. Endless conversations about music.

An unexpected hand on my elbow as I went up the beach, a mug of magic coffee early in the morning, a brush of a hip, a breath on my neck as he whispered a compliment. Never overt, it was against all their rules. I caved. I wanted to play the game.

A last adventure with no hidden agendas. A tiny villa in Negril town, wrought iron grills surrounding the almost empty bar instead of walls. Ice cold guinness in the heat. Jazz in the background.

Beautiful hands and a kiss sweet as demarra. Smooth, lean, strong and with a latent sense of purpose that you could cut with a knife.
Hot showers. 1 towel.
Fingerprint bruises.

Welcome home girlie, you've been away for looong time.

Feb 16, 2010


How often do you experience coincidence or deja vu? Is coincidence really a force outside of one's self or do we create it through our thoughts and desires? Is deja vu a ghost of a previous lifetime/s or a precursor of what is to come? There are so many philosophies that revolve around both that I find it immeasurably difficult to determine what it is I believe.

I do know that my life has been filled with both. I have watched/listened to myself have the exact same conversation with other people while having it with the person in front of me - knowing exactly what will be said next, and been beside myself to change the words coming out of my mouth. I meet people that I KNOW but have never met. I know the lyrics to music I've never heard. Too many times something will happen, or someone will show up just in the nick of time to resolve some critical problem or offer the precise assistance that I NEED RIGHT AT THAT MOMENT. Always grateful yet sometimes frightened. Am I crazy? Oversensitive? Extrasensitive? Drifting in the time stream where the receding current pulls you back through ages past?

Perhaps coincidence is the physical manifestation of unvoiced desire acting through the unconscious. The mind IS our most powerful tool and I have spent a lifetime trying to keep mine open. I am quite sure People being people, even with the infinitely random events in each individual life there must surely be some crossover point, and coincidence happens when that crossover occurs with two people in the same place and time, or between an individual and a specific event. I'll go with that.

Deja vu, on the other hand is an intimate haunt of mine, or maybe a karmic hurricane warning. I wonder how many lifetimes you have to live to get smacks in the forehead once a week? The dream that you wake up from with a picture of someone you haven't seen for umpteen years yet run into the next day, or see their obituary the day after. The sense that you MUST DO SOMETHING but not be really sure what. It's a double edged sword is deja vu.

And then when you apply either or both to individuals ....

for instance: to get on a plane for your first vacation EVER, to have the airline make a mistake with the seating, putting you with a stranger, who feels so comfortable that you quickly fall into conversation, who lives in your city, who knows about 50 people that you do including framily not just long gone acquaintances, much laughter ensues, fears openly discussed, politics, sport, friends, food, travel, history, family, stories, hours and hours on the phone, when neither of us usually spend much time on it at all, and it's the OTHER person who utters " it's like we've known each other for a 1000 years". That sense of comfortability that takes years to find with most, that you share with your besties, and a new one is added to the list. It always makes me wonder how many lost friends I still have floating around out there. Did I run into this one because I made a concious effort to be more open to it? I don't know and this isn't helping.

Maybe I'll just let it go and see where it leads and try to keep my questions to a million or two.

Feb 11, 2010

good for the soul ...

He smelled of ocean and sun and testosterone. His smile lit him up from the inside and he had strong rough fisherman's hands, agile with the most unexpectedly delicate touch. I'd seen him on the beach with the rest of the boat/seadoo guys several days running, and spoke to him a couple of times. He figured I needed a Jamaican boyfriend, and that he'd be the man for the job. I wasn't sure what I wanted. Well I knew what I wanted but wasn't sure if I could talk myself into actually doing it.

Nothing if not persistent. I like persistence, and cheek. Every morning for 8 days he'd be down on the beach as I headed up to the resort for breakfast. Always with something flattering to say. Always with the invitation to go for a boat ride. Now I'm no blushing teenager and I was quite well aware of the subtext and I would flirt right back and keep on trucking, but it certainly made me wonder...

And one morning I decided that it was time to go for a boat ride. I went to the same spot I usually sat, brandy in hand a nice fatty to greet the morning, except I didn't meander up for breakfast, I was waiting for a particular boat to show up. And then I wasn't and then I was ... and when it did my breath got short and I decided nope - not going. It was like I was 13 all over again. Stupid for an old woman I'd expect.

But as with so many other things, it works itself out. I pretended to read a book until he came over to chat. I declined his offer of a ride - he kept talking and seeing that wasn't getting him anywhere he pouted a bit and went back to talking and laughing with the rest of the crew. I would have paid serious coin to understand what they were saying right then, considering the looks I caught coming my way. So I decided I was chicken and started to get ready to head for breakfast when he couched his next invitation in a smartass comment. So I asked him why I should go in his boat. Fresh lobster for lunch out on Booby Key, and since he had given me a handsome excuse I said ok, let's go.

If you've ever been out on the ocean in 5 foot wide 18 foot long wooden fishing boat you know how the swell moves you, and once you integrate that with the woody vibrations of a fair sized outboard motor, the tropical sun beating down and the occasional burst of salt spray as you crest some cross chop you have a good idea of what was going on in my - cough cough - head.

It was freeing that ride. It was where I belonged right there, right then. Every time I turned around Bobby's eyes met mine. A wordless understanding and I almost got lost there. I didn't have to speak, just lean back and let the wind clear my soul and ride the mother sea, knowing that if I lost my balance the captain would be there to catch me, and he was.

We got to the island for the lobster picnic, passed the lobster to the crew who spend the day grilling them over an open fire for everyone who comes out to the island, lots of people snorkeling, out for a catamaran or seadoo ride, and we headed inland. He'd seen me with my ever present camera and he wanted me to see the point break. The trail was a little rugged and I liked that he assumed that I would be just fine traversing it yet he never let my hand go and always made sure I saw the deadfall. The trail was like a green tunnel with quick peeks of azure through the branches, and then we were there.

He talked me into climbing down a bank I wasn't sure I could get back up the moment I felt the strength in has arms and he lifted me over a ledge. We wandered down onto the sandy shoal where the ocean created little pools behind the breakwater, his hand always at my elbow or at the small of my back, just hovering. Twice he caught me as I lost footing on the rocks in the pools. The second time he just smiled, I'll take care of you sweetie, no problem. So cliche now - not so cliche just then. We played around in the pools like children on holiday, and I was happy to have found someone who could tap into their 8 year old child as easily as I could.

Climbing out of the pools we plopped ourselves down in the sand and just leaned into each other and watched the ocean. Our own little corner of the world, seabirds overhead, sun in my face and his heart beating against my shoulder and his arms wrapped around me, I could have stayed there forever.

Feb 8, 2010

well my my my, pass the ammunition

I went on my first vacation ever. To Jamaica. Go there.

Hot, humid, and laid back until the music starts, then you just follow the bass.

I am a large woman who shut down all the personal passion play 6 years ago and has recently been trying to convince herself that the blob she sees in the mirror is still desirable. It does not matter what others say, I patently do not believe them. I see beauty in almost everyone yet my personal landscape reminded me most of badly cooked mashed potatoes. I used to be able to get past my own skewed and patently shallow perception of myself but I had lost that ability somewhere along the way. And there were a few other things that I had lost too.

ja mon. thank you men of Jamica.

We arrived in Montego Bay on Sunday and was complimented about my size before I had claimed my luggage. Over the 2 weeks I was there I cannot count the number of times a man approached me, looked me straight in the eye and said "I like your size." The first time all I could do was blurt out - "Glad you do, I don't" which actually made him laugh out loud. Men are beautiful when they smile. And the variety - by the hundred little gods - from 24 to 45, 5'6" to 6' 2", cocoa, espresso, cafe au lait and ebony - and I still had a hard time believing them. Thrice damn North American standards of beauty - they almost made me watch a lifetime opportunity walk right on by.


And of course the paranoia, mine own and that gifted to me by well wishing friends before I left along with the "stories" of bringing husbands home or being internationally stalked certainly added to my trepidation. When you have safe guarded a certain status for years the risk you take to let it go is HUGE!!! and scary. The what if's kick in. What if it's just a joke, game, con? What if it seems like a good idea at the time but when it gets right down to it and it turns embarassing, ugly, painful? I was having a ferocious hard time letting go of my own prejudice against mayself, but by the 4th day the person I saw in the mirror every night had started to change.

I was still large but saucy and softer around the edges, more playful and flirty than I'd been since I don't know when. I realized that the solid walk had drifted into a slower more sultry sashay and that the mirror smiled more. I began reading intention into my attire and was tremendously happy that all my lingerie was lacey and matchy matchy. Now where had that version of me been? I hadn't seen her for quite some time.

I started to sing inside and out, whenever the mood took me, do a little two foot shuffle as I crossed the lounge just for the sheer joy of it. Body size started to matter only when it became an inconvenience like a narrow chair or a ladder. I quit taking everything except my vitamins and felt even better. When a man complimented me I started to say thank you instead of looking at my feet and mumbling something unintelligible. The chin came up and so did everything else, I felt taller.

By Saturday I was more comfortable in my own skin than I had been for 20 years, and my skin was softer too, though the hair was a distinct shambles. And I started to get cheeky when the invitations came along.