the more things change the more they stay the same

At the market today there was a cute young "emo" couple (for lack of a better word- as much as I would love to avoid labels the simple fact is that with one word you know exactly what I am talking about, so they were an Emo couple. Deal with it ;P ) looking all doomy and gloomy by the imported beer. This woman was talking to her friend or sister or whatever and saying that they try to look different by looking just like everyone else. It was all I could do to not roll my eyes and give her a swift kick.

In the grunge days, the alternateen days, the raverkid days we all heard that time and time again. No one got it. Not then, not now. We didn't dress that way or look that way thinking that we were the only ones on earth to do so. We set ourselves apart as a display of power. As a removal of permissions. It was a way to say "you are not allowed to say I don't belong with you, I'm saying I don't want to belong with you."

You are not allowed to find me strange, or odd, or different. I am finding that for myself, and I am happy.

Gloom on little Emos. Gloom on.

Tiffisa is...

like a warm sweater that fits just right

having faith, revisited

I stopped watering the dixie cup three days ago. I figured that it would give me a good way to explain it away -I'm sorry my little lamb, mama forgot to water it and it got all dried out. We can run up to the corner market and you can pick out some new seeds and mama can help you plant them!

I went to throw it out while Nate was getting dressed. Can you imagine my shock to see not one but two little shoots sticking out of the powdery soil? I yelled my fool head off for Nate to come quickly, come see his flowers.

"Oh I love them!"

I do too, peanut. I do too.

slump

In one, can't shake it. Can't sleep, got script to help it. blah blah blah.

Anyone remember the makeup ad from the late 80's? "Just when I think I have found myself I look and I'm not there." Yeah, that sounds about right lately.

having faith

Every day, Nate asks if he has a flower yet. He cradles the little plastic dixie cup in his hands and watches while I water oh so carefully.

And as a mom my heart aches, because chances are slim that anything will grow. "He would only do one seed" said the woman when I picked up Nate. One seed. Barely a hope. Then getting into the car he held the cup just a little too tight and some soil toppled out. Was the seed with it? Who knows. And so when my son peers into the murky soil, looking for life, I try to think of how to tell him that sometimes we are just dealt a short hand. Sometimes no matter how much we water, a flower just can't grow. I consider telling him that the value is in the watering, in the tender care, in the patience. That the flower at the end is not the only reward, and that not everything can be a flower. I consider running out and buying a new packet of seeds so that I can stack the deck back in our favor. I get angry at the cup for not being what my child wants it to be and then I get angry with myself for wanting that cup to be anything but what it is.

So in the end, I let the seed do what it is supposed to do- teach us to have faith.

I would love to say that just this moment I saw the first little shoot poking its way out of the soil, but this is not that kind of blog, and that is not the hand we were dealt. But we are going to continue to water that one seed that may or may not be there, and we are going to have faith that whether or not a flower grows all will be alright.

A dear John letter to the Catholic Church

It's been over for a while now, we both know it.

It's not you, it's me. Which is to say...it's totally you. And it's me. We just can't give what the other needs. We both deserve better. I love you, I'm just not *in* love with you. We'll always share the same basic beliefs and values, but I just can't swallow the Dogma any more. And before you get all defensive, no, I have not been tithing to another church behind your back- I just want to make a clean break so I can start looking for "minister right". No more baptisms, no more midnight mass, no more twice a year visits. I need to move on. We both do. You deserve someone who values you for everything you are and do. I'm not that person. Come on, if you looked in your heart you would know that too. I need to find what's right for me, and while I wanted it to be you so badly, it just isn't.

We have had a great run- a long run! Thirty years give or take a few wayward ones. But I feel now like we stay together just because we are all the other has ever known. That's not fair to us. You don't like us this way any more than I do. And so, thank you for all that you have given me. Parts of you I will carry forever.



You know, the title would have been way better if I had decided to leave a couple of years ago. Then it could have been a Dear Pope John letter.

I kill me!

My husband's newest mistress

It's my own fault for condoning it.

He went just the other day to speak to a man about ordering her. I'm a little intimidated, since this mistress will be custom built for him- exactly what he wants and to his measurements. He talked to me about how she is going to look, and I must confess she sounds cute.

I did lay down the law though- this is the LAST bike until I get my ring "upgraded"

Not right that a man's mistress should be better outfitted than his wife after all.