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.