I need to get this out now so as not to be so negative tomorrow at the Goddess Holiday Dinner.

NCS Pearson has a bad habit of not paying their employees whom they require overtime hours and have stricter rules than a crazy West Virginia snake church. I keep thinking that this illegal. Other companies have been reprimanded for this behavior. I know of one particular lady who has not been paid for 1 month of working there, and one mother who has been given an eviction notice. I kid not. This shit pisses me off. It pissed me off before and now it pisses me off even more.

I wasn't paid last week. I have disconecction notices, half of rent to pay, and Christmas is coming this Sunday. I had not gone shopping. Luckily last night my mother loaned me the money to get the PinkZilla presents. As much as she can get under my skin, I am so thankful that she is there to help me!

On to my next big saga that I've added to a list of sagas that have acculmulated over these past few years. I call this my Neverending Story, complete with utter nonesense and dire circumstances just before little rays of light.

I got a call late Friday night from Assooze. After what seemed to be a rather long illogical conversation, I realized that I was the incoherent one. What I thought was a silly plea for attentio after a bad fight turned out much different. He got ran over by a car while crossing 23rd St at Mass St. He does not remember anything except EMT's working on him. From what he gathered the driver jackrabbit-started before the light changed and got him pretty good. He's gonna find out what really happened tomorrow at a doc visit.

I know some are going think, "hey, that would've solved a problem", but my oldest two brothers had to be told at a young age that their mom died. My brothers did not fare well at all. She died on Christmas. I DON'T want that for my PinkZilla. I don't think that scenario would play out in my kids' lives, but I do have a reasonable fear that someday it will have to be discussed.

That being said...I am glad that all he got was a glued up forehead, scrapes and bruises covering his body, and an achy sternum.

Wow. 2005. How many more days left?

I think this my third week of cubicle ecstacy. I feel like I'm at the zoo. I've made sporadic friends. At this place I've found like minded folk intermingled with different minded folk, and the differences setting people apart range the typical gamuts between race, aesthetic, political, and whether or not you smoke.

My favorite personality so far is a woman that I go out of my way to talk to and the action is reciprocated. She's not from Lawrence or Topeka. She's from the South. Funny I thought she'd be unwilling to talk with me. But just like a Southern she quickly warms up tells all, but unlike the other Southerns I've met...she's nice!

She's just had her first baby and says she's done! She's just got into contact with her biological grandmother (she's adopted). She's had her amount of storms and unabashedly relays them. Her stories are not to make her seem pitiful or super-ego strong, but they do reflect an inner strength that makes others respect her. She's a Diva. We use Goddess, but her culture uses Diva. She's young, but I see it in her. She rocks!

She doesn't judge. There are A LOT of pregnant women there, and what's different about her is that she's a non-hypocritical pro-lifer. shit happens. Messes happen. cleaning up after that happens. There's no need to kick a person when they're down, and the babies should be treated like royalty. I've run into too many people who disparage a woman or man for procreating too many times, and have no compassion for that situation (parent or children) at all. Honestly, only the higher tax brackets can truly afford their kids! I know I can't afford my PinkZilla, so how can I spite another person who's made the same accidents!?

I did make an Enardaesque remark during a discussion over the topic of birthing pain and scientology. The ladies were going off on men that are against relief of any kind for women in labor. "Poor Tom Cruise's girl!" It kept distracting me, so to stop the inanity and shut the Clucking Hen Syndrome for a few secs (it'd been going on and on), I blurted out, "If men were to bear the babies then abortion would be sacrament!". And you thought 11 degrees was chilly! I've never had frost bite before, but I came pretty damn close right there! Ha ha ha! Devilment vein! Those ladies are a bunch of incompassionate folk who rail against everyone for nigh near everything. Yargh! 8.5 hours a day!

So to keep my brain from melting into an oblivion reserved for office gossips, I went to data entry. Jeesh! That's saving my brain?! Well...yes. On a cd a friend of mine burned, I found a couple of lovely videos. I squealed with delight when I found them! Beautiful African music! Made me chairdance and get giddier than what the snow was doing for me. A person looks pretty stupid wiggling and staring at a screen. I was afraid someone might try to "save" me from an epileptic episode.

Another day at Temp Slave HQ. i got annoyed and over joyed on the same day. That's a job. Right? Then I'm off to drive through the snow and curse everyone else's driving while they curse mine!

Little Silver Fish
Pointing upstream
Moving downstream
In clear quick water
-Soseki

I must have a Devilment Vein somewhere! I know you all hate things that creep and crawl and scurry, but I've got a place you should check out. Sorry I can't show any pictures because I still don't understand this damn MAC!

Anyways, I love Fiber Arts magazine. I usually see something in it that makes me smile instead of groan about pretentious arteest assholes who think they're pushing an envelope or are just being "ironic". Did I say that?! Oops.

I checked what I believe is the current issue, and my jaw dropped. Here t'is: www.fiberartsmagazine.com/back_issues/11_05/angus.asp

I love all sorts of patterns. Loud, big, subtle, flowing, jarring, soft, femminine, masculine, etc...you name it.

This is where it gets fun...It's bugs. bugsbugsbugs. Enormous patterns of gorgeous, brightly colored, impecably kept specimens delicately laid out as rugs or pinned on walls like bug wallpaper. Made me miss my dazed days of highschool and early college.

I also had the strong urge to take a high tea. This is not a drug reference, but literally "tea" complete with silver utensiles and little sandwiches that don't deserve to be called a sandwiches since they're the size of my thumb.

Which brings me to "Johnny". I have this delightful friend who makes short films in claymation. He'd love this. He has a penchant for yucky things. slimy things. creepy things. He looks normal. VERY normal. Watch out for those! A few years ago he wanted me and my partner at the time to dine elegantly while hundreds of cockroaches scurried across our plates.

HMMM...no I didn't take him up on the offer, but the idea was interesting and this exhibition makes me want to try it out just for laughs and a few retches from others. I'll think on that idea lttle more. mmmm...ok, no, I don't think I will.

This is what I WAS thinking: You folk with unwelcomed extra roommates might think this would be an interesting and beautiful way to display any "trophies" that you acquire.

Hmmm. Vaccines are invented to rid society of communicable diseases. Right? Well that's what I thought, so for the last week I've been pondering about the Minizilla's fever, cough, achiness, etc... So after only one day on the new job and now two days at home with a sick zilla and bored 4 year old (thanks to babydaddy showing up late and three sheets to the wind from night before),I have found out that Minizilla has CHICKEN POX! Hunh?!

Do you recall the commercial of the kids giving funny answers to questions about diseases that we unfortunate adults had to suffer through in childhood? I do. I want to smack that PR man at Merck. Damn! Where's Amy Goodman and Jerry Brown when you need a consumer advocate and media outlet to inform the world of this travesty and sham!

I have had a grump-a-thon this morning that would make the Grinch proud. Grrr, I still say, but after a conversation that the entire nieghborhood woke up to and some serious theraputic cleaning, I can now calmly talk to the passed out Assooze in my son's room without wanting to kill him (ASS not MZ). Well, sort of. GRRR.

I am positive though and I do have things that make me thankful, grateful, whatever. I am glad that MZ got sick during a time when he'll only miss 2 days. I'm glad to have found a great Persian restuarant last weekend that you all have got to try! I'm glad Pinkie ain't sick. (cross my fingers) I'm glad to know you ladies and gents! I'm glad for the time to devote to my creative side. I'll be glad not to be let go from this newly acquired job. I'm glad to have a caring mutt to cuddle up with. We both need heat rocks in cold weather. I think I'll ask for one for Christmas.

So if Goddess Pheonix (Mazzy? I like Pheonix, great alegory!) reads this...sorry to have missed your birthday, and sorry GDs for missing "Thank you" dinner at FS last night. I was a little busy. Happy Women-Do-The-Work-Only-To-Thank-A-Man-God-Who-Had-Nothing-To-Do-With-It Day!

It's been a coming...now it's time to brag about the Pinkie...We had parent/teacher conferences at her PRESCHOOL last week. Why four year olds need those is beyond me. I have problems with religion and uptights as you all know, and this place is (ack) religious and (ick) uptight. There's only the facade of laid backness, but really they're anal diamond producers.

So, why I am proud of my little Pinkie? Good question, I guess. I think it's rather obvious though...they described her as friendly, but in a couple different places they described her as being direct, unique, and (my favorite) rude. Twice rude was used. I laughed at that much to the teachers' consternation. She "had trouble transitioning from an outside voice to an inside voice". I laughed at this too. Redirection was used a lot! They very politely described instances where it seemed like she gave up working a partner and walked away. I know this routine. She was either throwing a bitch fit or the other kid was just not stimulating enough. I laughed here as well.

I think they were being "kind". What they said could've been seen as left handed compliments, but I took them all as wonderful things! It's the same as when a girl in the nieghborhood told my son that we were "weird". I heard her and thanked her. She looked confused and sheepish. The teachers had the same look as that little girl.

Pinkie's Momma and her Assooze always have been individualists. So it makes sense that she's friendly, but still ends up doing it her own way. That's my Pinkie. She runs with scissors, pokes at cacti, and does flips on her bike! Aye!

My Girl is direct, opinionated, independant, expressive, assertive, noisy, determined, stubborn, and straight forward. Damn! What great traits to have in your 4 year old girl!

What'll I think when she hits adolescence? I'll be PROUD and maybe a little concerned with crazy behavior. But that's as long as she doesn't let anyone get the best of her!

You go, Pink!

I don't thank vets for my freedom. I thank Activists. Feminists in particular. Whatever, I'm a Woman! I know it sounds like I'm ungrateful, but in the last 50 years where's the IMMEDIATE threat? Yes, we had a cold war. Scary commies were the immediate threat. We were their IMMEDIATE threat. I heard a greatline in a R&B song..."I'll fight your war when I finish fighting mine". Women and other minorities still have got a lot of work to do. Within their prospective groups and outside them.

I don't think that conservatives are thinking logically, practically, or in long terms about problems. Most of what I hear from them is pure emotional reaction to uncomfortable ideas and attitudes. Gay marriage bans, abortion restrictions, religious encroachment in public schools and science standards, ridiculous conservative based punishments on personal matters(extra taxes or bans on stores that sell sex products and the sex entertainment industry), and willful blindness and disregard to problems in rural and urban areas all the while blaming the victim (sorry,...person).

I do care about vets by the way. I find it distasteful yet understandable that 25% of the homeless population are vets. Hmmm...what does that mean when you take into account the working poor and those about to become homeless that served US by placing their safety and lives on the backburner? Their reentry in civillian life, addictions, physical and mental problems SHOULD be handled in a more appropiate manner.

I do not think their's are the only shameful problems we have spotting up our pristine US. I do not think that they are the only ones that served US either. I'm raising the next generation. Guess what! I'm serving the US. The trashmen are serving the US! Damn it! FS brewers are serving the US! We all are! In someway or other we are all doing that.

So who is the most deserving of my respect and reverence? I have decided upon those people who ardently fought for social change and equality of my fellow sentient beings and faithfully lived those ideals thoughout their lifetimes. Goddess bless them all!

My family is in love with things that make most people squeamish. The Pinkzilla's interest in snakes and bats at the moment are no exception. So, to make up for the crabiness in the last few entries, I will now give you a poem that my Minizilla wrote:

Corn Snakes
Allmost all snakes
are venemes
but corn snakes
are not. I
never fond
them in
Kansas
but there
in Kansas
cool. there
not venemes.

I could not damage the integrity of the poem by editing it, so enjoy it in all its creative glory.

All things related to bats are currently in picture form. I have no dig camera or scanner, so they won't be here, but the items will show up at some point.

Goddess bless you all! (I just sneezed)

Pay your fucking child support if you owe it! Fucking Deadbeat dads! Happy 29th month of no child support! It hurts them not just the Ex!

It ironically is my wedding aniversary to that crackhead asshole. Thankfully yes we are divorced, but when I get calls from collectors for medical bills piled up by the kids and can't afford to pay any of the other bills, I want to disembowel that fucker in the middle of downtown on bright sunny afternoon.

Sorry the anger wouldn't be quite so extreme if I hadn't just tried looking on the internet for legal advice that goes beyond prison/jail time for that assooze. It was all pro-man, anti-momma legal advice on how whittle the payments down...it wasn't all bad honestly, but most advice was "to stay the course" and how bad it is to be a single family household.

Your children WILL start sex early or become drug addicts. I don't have to worry about that. I became sexually active at 15 even though my folks were strict disciplinarians who never divorced, and his side are all addicts of something to some degree or other. My kids are undoubtedly screwed.

I don't think Focus on the Family and the rest of that conservative tripe has anything that I would value. I don't follow recipes very well. I tried to follow their recipe for life, but that ended dismally and dangerously. My hodgepodge way of throwing it all in experimentally is much more interesting and fulfilling. Especially when it it's about OUR happiness, mine and kiddos.

On another note my Halloween was not quite as scary as I thought it would be. Assooze didn't show up. I wasn't really surprised, but it's strange to hear your son say to his friend on the phone that he doesn't have a dad. Creepy really.

On the happiest note..My Minizilla was in the KC Star last week. I'm soooo proud! He looked distorted and silly just like he always does!

This morning I listened to a Hindi discussing the general terms of Karma. I have been having doubts about this spiritual belief because of recent personal events and political realities (Pres W Regime and their crazy antics). Why would all this shit fall on me, Minizilla, and Pinky? I kept thinking that our little trio didn't deserve crap. And why did Conditions outside our house seem so lucky? What was It?

Last night I read Twain's short story of The Good Little Boy. The boy always did what good little boys in his Sunday school books did except he always got hurt or in trouble instead of rewards and praise. He also wondered when he'd die because the boys in the books all died....

I laughed outloud at the end and had to refrain from reading it to the Pinkzilla. It was too graphic and I've just come to realize that my Minizilla is VERY ATTENTIVE and VERY QUICK. I just thought the Boy was a space cadet floating in his own world. Sneaky Pete! Pinky just hollers through every book I read to her, so I think her comprehsion of litrature is lacking.

Anways the moral of the story seems to coincide with my doubting karma lately. If you're good all the time you still can get shit on. How if cause and consequence exist does that work here? I try to keep off others' toes, but mine seem bruised up.

Well the Good Boy was pretty much a Nag and Goody-Goody to everyone else. It was his just desserts. Ok there is my bad karma. My darkness allowed me to laugh at a small lad and 15 dogs going up in a blaze of glory. Hallelujah!

I have to admit some feelings that I expressed about the Ex are not nice at all, but that should be allowed. Negative attitudes and holy-rolling finger pointing not to mention a good ole pity party!

This is how it ties in with my philisophic quandry. I think karma works with attitudes making it seem like everything is all dumb luck or good Karma. I have noticed how opitimistic and lucky Condition is, and I get envious. I know that one has to work towards wanted goals, and things aren't as good as I would care for them to be, but it has worked out without things getting too outta hand (my mother would disagree that my house is not out of hand). I keep forgetting the good karma that has ekked my direction and am entirely grateful for it.

So to end this rutted blahg, I have to say that I still have a small belief in Karma, but of course with the grain of salt that can be afforded with the realization that it's all how you look at it. Because after all I akin religious dogma to morphin and a band-aid. It doesn't take care of the real problem but it feels good anyway.

Let's all hug now. AHHH.

Love, honor, and cherish.

Lu, this is in reference to your last blog.

My ex's favorite joke to recite to me was:

Nothing says love like a restraining order.

It wasn't until recently that I was endowed with a reply. Interestingly enough it was from a man. Here it goes:

Nothing says love like a few attempted murders.

No matter how inept the attempts may have been they were there, and they're still affecting my behavior.

Sorry for the macabre, Ladies.

I have three poems for y'all. I hope you like them.

A windblown grass...
Hovering mid-air
In vain
An autumn dragonfly
Basho

It sums up my last few years. I'm still in the process of changing it. I'm big on processes, so the image of a bug who's appearance and lifestyle greatly differs throughout its life is appropiate for me.

Exquisite the dewy
Bramble...
To every thorn
A single droplet
Buson

I find beauty everywhere and in every circumstance. There is always beauty even the most painful conditions and situations. Likewise there is always ugly. Wierd isn't? Existence.

After the windstorm
Foraging for
Firewood...
Three fierce old Women
Buson
I do NOT think any of us is old! I just feel that these women went through something rough and are coming out of it strong, determined, and very tenacious. Right on!

You ladies all kick my ass just like squids do! I hope you liked my haiku corner today. Have a great day!

Grocery shopping is THE MOST glamourous thing a single mom could do outside of going to the laundry mat on Friday night. Especially right after school when the kids are at their peak in whine mode. Nobody wants to be there, and everyone is letting everyone else know it. It interesting this particular time because I got a phonecall from Condition that was cut short because my little natives were restless. I smile with crush giddiness some of ya'll tease me about.

So on we go. One aisle down. One aisle up. I notice happy excited faces and waving hands. I see who the short humans are. They are the offspring of said Condition. I also notice that they quickly stop to observe the reactions between me and their mom. Thus ensues an uncomfortable conversation with the Condition's Ex. First is the uncomfortable "yes I know your children even though you don't know me". I told her my name. She instantly knew who we were. My mind kept racing...Did she know? Did he tell her? Did the kiddos tell her? Did any of you ladies tell her? Hmm...

After that nervous interaction I kept up the shopping, swallowing whatever silly feelings I might have felt. Towards the end one of the natives started to give in to her impatience.

At the checkout my lovely, angelic, sweet, kind, QUIET daughter proceeded to explain to me that she needed candy. (Damn the marketer who thought up candy placement in the checkout lane!) I replied that she already had a sucker. She was so insistant that the package of candy she held got ripped open in a wrestling match between me and her. So I paid for it, and offered it to the cashier, a young girl about 16. She offered to take it off the ticket instead. She obviously did not understand what my point was. Griffin did however, and he did not want the candy to go elsewhere. He suggested (rather snidely) that I should not let her have it until after she cleans her room. (the WORST room in the house mind you). My son, the genius!

Ahh. I need to learn wrestling moves from the professionals if I want to be a single mother of 2. I put the candy in my purse. We started to wrestle again. This time 2 aisles were watching the struggle. mano a mano. Hemmingway, you and your old man and old fish can eat your hearts out! No dirty little story of royal intrigue can compare! This is the stuff of legends!

Mom vs 4 year old in a struggle for the freedom to have rotten teeth!

People were obviously amused, especially when in the grips of the battle I managed to tell a boy cashiering behind me that this was "'birth control' for all you teenagers here". There were 4 working right there. Literally everyone in my aisle and the next aisle burst out into laughter.

And what was running in my head as I left with a screaming 4 yr old? The ONLY thing running in my head?

I hope to god, She did NOT see this!

I despise crushes. Always have. It is especially hard if when You get them, you revert a stuttering, spitting monkey trying to muddle your way through a two word long sentence that doesn't make sense. looks crazy. sounds crazy. must be crazy (watch for flying poop). Crushes go right along with my distaste for romantic comedies. I laugh at absurdities, but not at painful attempts at love making or emotional misconnecting.

One bit of advise to all you divorcees out there who are hormonally looking at everyone around you:

The crush should never be anyone from the ex's family. It looks as if you just don't want to get it outside of that family. Bad. No, technically it's not incest. It's just...not right in the head. It's creepy, and not in the good way that my current Condition is. There's a song out there that says "she don't think straight". Aye. No no. Not me, grasshopper!

So. How did this immature and confusing woman get over her schoolgirlish crush? I got an email from the current Condition. And I automatically get giddy and silly. (icky feelings) I start to think about our wonderful weekend watching puppets and riding bikes where it took two days of no bike riding so my ass'd stop hurting. Yes, bike riding for all you dirty minded beauties!

Then it hits me again.
"Oh no! Damn crush!"
You know I think I say that to myself everytime.

At least this one has been built up with talking and not just "relaxing". I can tell this one's ok. I can talk to Condition. He thinks I'm sane and interesting! Whatta weirdo!

Now back to that proverbial schoolgirl chalkboard.

Giant squids kick my ass. I don't know if it's all the nature shows and creature features involving Japanese men wearing big rubbery outfits, flying three-headed puppets, and exploding toy tanks, but, God, I love that Vernesque titan of the deep.

I've always told my kids that there are no such things as monsters. I think that dissapointed my son. I thought "oh no another child spark of imagination snuffed out" until... A few years ago we watched a Discovery show about monsters of the deep that scared the bejeebus out of my boy. I had to tell him the squids were pretend. He actually turned away from the tv. Disappointment over, enter irrational fear.

Two years and a few emotional hurtles later...I took the kids to the St. Louis zoo. There was a life size replica of one dangling fom the main lobby. OOO! Were the creepy crawlies tingling on the spine! After seeing that and some horrible fictional dramatization of an undersea safari trip encountering one of the silly beasts, my boy is hooked. Disappointment gone. Irrational fear of the giant tentacled animal gone. Now it is replaced by a pure love that only a boy whose favorite communication consists of roaring and firebreathing could possibly muster.

My love is because it is something tangible, new, and so totally outside of our human control. Eh. Whatever, I think those small protozoans that they find in fresh, melting icecap waters are amazing too. Don't get me started on thermal tubeworms or ice fish. Iyiyes are the bomb. If only our flip off finger could be the lenghth of theirs. Jesus, as the only adult in the house, I would love to have chameleon google eyes to see everything those kids try to do.

What I'm getting at is this: We are still discovering life. It sparks my imagination, curiosity, and love of life. It's one of the reasons my Goddess name is Enarda. A play on the arcaic "innarda" or innards. I love biology. I love natural systems and how they work, look, and came to be.

To end this I'd like to leave you with a few words of wisdom...
"From now on, by court oder, I hereby decree that religon should stay 500 feet from science at all times."
-the judge from The Simpsons

Shoot just one more...
"Life's no fun without a good scare."
-Twas a Nightmare Before Christmas

So I am conscious about how my children view others and have other mother friends with the same concern, but recently I have had my first shocking, unhumorous conversation with my daughter. This little 4 year old who gets a multicultural education at home and has a plethora of different skinned friends who come over almost everyday has told me that she does not like one of the little girls in the nieghborhood because she has brown skin. Yes I know it's a controversial subject. "Hmmm" I thought after the initial shock wore off. "Where did you hear statements like that? All of your friends have brown skin except for one." She proceeded to tell me the other light skinned girl was the source. I thought about that, and then pointed out her that the said perpetrator's best friend was darker than the disliked girl. I explained the concept of "good and bad in all" that including race and cultures and that humans were equal even if they were not always treated that way. I also had her put herself in the other girl's shoes. She of course did not get the whole gist of the talk was about, but for her part I think she truly tried.

My thought for you other socially aware and enlightened parents is: How do you get your children to think about and discuss race and social classes without instilling stereotypes whether good or negative and an ineffective "us and them" attitude while be sensitive to their emotional capacities and mental capabilities?

I realize that this is close to another time in our culture's history where the discussion of race has come up for adults, but there is no discussion that I have heard on class or even how to talk about the discrepensies in caste/race treatment. I have to point out that this is from a small human with a socially conscious mom who reads biographies of different people from around the world to let them know that there is life outside our myopic country and culture. Yes, yes, I also realize that kids cannot be around their parents 24-7, so outside input is inevitable.

Ok then..discuss amongst yourselves. I'm going to go bake premade cookie dough.

Oh yes she did apologize the next day.

Ok. So I don't get flak for not actually posting...
I found it lovely to see you ladies on Sat evening. Goddesses always look ravashing! I get shy and need alcohol if ya'll ever noticed that. Yes, I'm a Kansas girl I get to say "ya'll". I never professed to be a grammarian, spelling bee champion, nor at the very least an "intoolictyooaal".

I heard something that made me sit back and rethink my circumstances. Unfortunately other people's worries and troubles often do that for people. Please don't think me callous, I'm just unaware. It's kinda like someone opening your closet and a flock of moths fly out at break neck speed right at yours and your companion's faces. Embarassing and shocking. I want to find a way to remedy the discovered problem while not for sure how to go about it. Thank you, Goddesses, who have given support and reminded me that all is relative and pretty much transient, so there's no need to truly fret over the small stuff.

For a while I have been holed up here in my single momdom "castle", so that making those important connections and keeping them "tuned up" have become a dusty social grace shoved next to my collections of stuff on my mantle. I apologize. So! On my honor (whatever that means) I swear my reptillian like exterior will break down enough to let ya'll know that there is a real, caring, sincere human being that resides in this biolgically driven shell of visera and what not. Until then...

I'd like to leave you with a thought on what I think is the best ending a movie could ever have... Monty Python's Life of Brian's "Always look on the Bright side of Life"
Take awhile and let the whistled tune just soak back into your conscience and fill your day up with joy! Peace.