The weekend got away from me, although today is dragging. I caught an early yoga class with a new instructor on Saturday morning. Sadly, I actually liked her more than Joe. She presented more of a challenge and made more of an effort stressing form in the asanas. Joe is all about the spiritual which is part of it, but I am a slave to the physical and there is something truly beautiful about the human body in near perfect form. To look over in the mirror and catch a glimpse of your perfectly aligned body is a motivational tool for me.

After the class I headed home and then to meet the new therapist. The anxiety builds as we get into the car. Primarily because sessions are seldom invigorating and secondarily because Joe (favorite guy) is alot more spiritually aware than psychologically. It becomes almost frustrating communicating about an issue that is so close to me yet so far from him. I guess we face the same struggle with his Christianity. Actually, it is more than a guess since we've spoken on it more than once. We arrive and she-yes, a woman-another uncomfortable moment as I generally prefer males for invasive topics like obstetrics,gynaecology and psychotherapy comes out to gather the insurance information and medical history. She reviewed it, we spoke briefly and much to my surprise she headed straight for the prescription pad. It was pleasant that she trusted my self awareness and knowledge enough to skip the trivial formalities and further insult me by offering coping mechanisms. So, I'm on board again, well almost. It should be a couple weeks before the total effect is apparent. We (favorite guy and I) still have not spoken much of it. I'm not sure how I feel about it. It feels uncomfortable not sharing but I'm also at fault because I don't share in his spiritual trials and triumphs either. It's something we need to work on, I just don't see it happening any time soon. We used to keep this His and Hers journal, where we'd each take turns answering pre-written questions about each other and the children and our lives together. It is no wonder that we were doing remarkably well keeping up with it until one of the questions referred to a change we'd each like to see and my answer pointed to the psychological while his pointed to the spiritual.

Tougher than most interfaith relationships is the one of the Agnostic and the Believer. While I can't speak for his position I can affirm that mine is one of the unknowing, and as much as I believe the believers believe they know, they too do not. In my younger years I had attested to being an Atheist and as my awareness grew I realized that was a dangerous position for me to take. As a scholar of sorts I have gained quite a bit of respect and credibility. To make an assertion on religion in bias was just wrong. I concede that I lean further in my belief that God is not real, but the one disclaimer so to speak that stops me from making any declaration of my stance either way is that I just do not know.

This creates an awkward position for me because what comes next from followers of any religious faith is, "Well how can you say you don't believe if you don't know, how do you think you got here" followed by some ridiculous misconstrued theory of apes and a mockery of the theory of evolution which few people understand in its entirety. I'm in essence saying the exact same thing, but for the other team. Believers say they know God/Allah/Yahweh/Jehovah/? did it, but they do not know how. I say it was done but I don't know how and/or/if by whom.

Case in point, in first year psychology you learn about the basic personality types. Folks are always saying what goes around comes around, karma, some believe God will punish you, others believe he teaches, he doesn't punish. Either way, with there being; a limited number of personality types and infinite opportunities to encounter each a few times in this lifetime, wouldn't it then be safe to assume that you may one day be faced with a situation that you have previously encountered? Perhaps on the other side of the encounter with someone who may or may not have the same personality trait(s) as you. You would then be faced with many if not all of the same feelings that you imagined the other person experienced. (I say imagined because you never really can tell what another person is feeling and your reality is always based on your own experiences). Is that karma? Is God punishing you? Is He teaching you a lesson? Is it purely coincidental? Is it The Path?

I am clinically depressed. I am okay with it. I don't feel it is as a result of not praying or believing and no, I don't think I'd be any less depressed if I did. My depression has contributed to a very real and powerful part of who I am. I see things a little more colorfully than most, I experience things in greater detail, I feel more anxious, more afraid, more emotional. But as everything is intensified, so is my creativity, my recollection of facts and events, my perception of others and reality. To those who know me, they would say, "That's just Meka". They can attest that I come up with just the right description of scents, of sounds, of feelings I can predict with near accuracy a series of events and how they will unfold. I am the friend to put your feelings into words, your jumbled words into feelings. My husband believes that I am instrumental in deciphering his many conversations with God. I am not God, but if there is one, I'll bet he too is/was/will be clinically depressed. winks and smiles.

I did it. Done. Finished. Finit. Se acabo...It feels weird, I am underemployed. I am underemployed lowers octave looks up and to the left un-der-em-ployed, me. Ok, I guess I am. The walk to the elevators was awkward. As much as I protest, contest, complain and curmudgeon I do have warm feelings for some (very few) of the warm bodies. So fleeting it was though, that feeling- by the time the "ding" alerted me of my arrival on the main floor, I was so over it.

The ride home was quiet and perhaps a bit somber. I am bittersweet on the whole arrangement because it is new, and with all things new there will be humps, hurdles and adjustments. I'm sure Joe has his own reservations, no more two-day reprieve to hold his fork the wrong way, spread butter with a spoon, fart in the bedroom, fry food, (Ali & AJ are on TV singing this song that I kinda like...it's Disney, but it's kinda catchy, something about a boyfriend-makes me feel young again, I used to have one of those) and whatever else they do here while I'm away. I can understand, it's a leap of faith for me too. I'm confident that we'll be fine, we've already battled the biggest demons; in-laws, infidelity and interfaith issues. An extra two days of me manning the maison won't kill him.

I'm meeting a new therapist tomorrow morning, I just remembered. Good thing too, because I was going to ask Joe to pick up a six-pack of Sunshine or Skinny Dip. A couple of weeks ago, I did stale/still drunk yoga-which was hysterical, by the way. At one point I'm in Downward Dog and I'm totally in the zone, just a breathing and a stretching only to realize that everyone else is upright and going into a gentle back bend! I tell you, alcohol is like WD-40 for your joints, at least until the next day. Anyway, sorry about the digression...if I tie one on tonight she's liable to book me a room at "Hut de Nut", it will take some time to discern my sarcasm from my psychosis. Seriously, I'm not thrilled about starting anew because I only want to discuss what I want to discuss and well, they can be pretty damn nosey. When I went to the employee assistance counselor, she was asking about my friends, my parents, hobbies...I'm thinking are you gonna keep me from bludgeoning someone or do you want to date me? laughs I guess it's all relative, but it's one of those deals like when you're in labor and the doctor asks if you have any history of heart disease, stroke, asthma and you're like, put that pen down before I kill you with it! That's where I am, "Listen lady, pick up your little pad and write the following: "Rx for happy during the day, sleeps well at night, tolerates others". That's it, and if you want to know about my mom I'll have her give you a call. Simple enough, no? I'll keep you posted...Oh no, I just noticed that the past couple of entries have been written as though I am writing to someone versus just writing...am I splitting. Is this some dissociative disorder? I do, on occasion talk to myself...hmmm. Ah that's okay I kinda like talking to me. Lisa? Avery? Are you guys out there?

Hotmail is now Windows Live mail, 2GB space, heightened security features and more blah blah blah. The only feature I'm currently interested in is the one where you can actually type a complete thought without having to restart the PC. I feel like I'm blogging on Lisa's cell phone.

Things are good today, I spoke to my supervisor over that EBO, looks like I can skip the two week wake and head to the Pearly Gates tomorrow. I'm loving that. I'm ambivalent about outing my unemployed status to the masses. I've been on my own since I was 16 and give away far greater than I take, where matters of family are concerned- but I can already hear the yammers, "Oh, but you're so smart...you need your independence, what about pocket money". I'm so sick of this idea that a woman who chooses not to work to support and otherwise raise (yeah good ol' fashioned child-rearing) her children is somehow defunct, like I'm banished to the masses of child-raising Met Food cashiers. I guess being the nonconformist that I am, I would choose to educate myself extensively and then only apply it towards parenting and homeschooling whilst everyone else is back-biting and ass kissing, kicking and busting for the corner office. I don't know, call me naive, call me crazy, but I'd like to think that these years put in will reap far greater rewards than the latch-key pipe bombers of this generation. Besides, pocket money, schmocket money-I spend it faster than I bring it in.

My grandmother, who I love infinitely fell prey to the women's lib movement in the worst way. She knows better now, thanks to my incessant propagandizing of attachment parenting, nursing and the family bed, but she is still a work in progress. She grew up in the South and upon acquiring her degree and marrying my grandfather joined the movement. She formula fed, with a propped bottle no less and she Ferberized, although I'm sure it was called something totally different then. The whole idea was to have the kid, place it down, prop the bottle and get back to the board room, class room, ladies room etc. It's sad to think that your comeuppance as a woman could so easily be deflected from the obvious, natural reason for your earthly existence. I'm all about feminism as it stands to empower women not create a generation of neglectful stalwarts. At the end of the day my calling in this life is to raise well adjusted, well versed, cultured, educated people. Too bad there is no prestige or pension attached to the most important career around. Or is there?

It appears there just may be, as the Phoenix Police seem to be under the impression that I've deferred my parental judgment to the local "powers that be" (haha, Joe called me Flavor Flav as we were discussing this issue in bed this morning) our son was picked up on a curfew violation this past weekend. He was inside a private residence attending a party that was "broken up" at 12:01 IDs requested and all attendees under age were taken to a curfew violators encampment in the ghetto of West Phoenix. Ok, sounds simple enough except the law states minors cannot be outdoors after 12:00 unless they: are with an accompanying adult 18 or over, and/or have parental consent. Do you follow so far? Ok, so how was he arrested while indoors and never questioned about who accompanied him and ordered not to use his cell phone, which of course would have allowed me to advise the Footloose Police that he had my permission to be in attendance until 2:00 am? I am not partaking in any government subsidized programs and Jordan's dad is not a man in uniform, I'm thoroughly confused about this blatant abuse of power. It is not a rare occurrence in the suburbs I have come to realize while researching my position in preparation of our upcoming juvenile court appearance, "Oh joy". Basically, if Farmer Tom and his wife Peggy partner with Pastor Dave, Sister Sue and Sheriff Joe, "I reckon you can just 'bout outlaw any dern thang". I just read they are outlawing sagging pants in Louisiana. What's next, exposed socks, bad hair weaves? Violating civil liberties of anyone, yes children too, is a slippery slope. I understand many things create quality of life issues or a general annoyance, but that does not constitute an illegal act. If so, I've got a list of shit that I'd like to see stopped immediately. Let's start with seizing the property of people who have old pickup trucks in their backyards, cars with one door spray painted black in the front yard, serviceman ass-crack should be punishable by fine and bellies exposed from under tight ass t-shirts should face up to a 90 day jail term or until said gut has been restored to order. Are you ready to sign my bill? One would just have to think there are far more serious offenses the Sheriff's Office could be allocating tax monies toward. I have personally declared myself exempt for the past two years, citing that I'm broke and I don't want my money being used for the country's defense fund. That's a whole other rant, and yes they, "Let you do that..." semantics, it's all semantics.

At any rate, Joe and I will be there on September 20th complete with as many actual cases regarding this issue as can be obtained from the Internet and local libraries in addition to his current home school portfolio. I refuse to allow this to blemish his pristine record and I am not going to be pressured into abiding by this bureaucratic bullshit. If there is no blog on the 21st you can assume I violated penal code...whatever "arrogant black woman with her facts straight" is filed under in good ol' AZ.

Well, I'm about to start winding down, watch a little mindless television before I head for bed, I've got a big day tomorrow. It's amazing how I'm already feeling relieved (perhaps it is because I've called out all week) I've completed four projects for my gift shoppe, I have the basic design plan for two pairs of earrings, lesson plans are in the works and my house is clean. I know I'm not out of the water with my depression, but as I can best describe it, me working for the EBO is tantamount to being a laborer with a bad back. It is a bad situation that can and will eventually only get worse. I am grateful for the start; getting my feet firmly planted in AZ and putting some grub on the table, but in exchange I have recently been more depressed and without definitive reason than I've been in four years, that just doesn't seem like fair trade. As one door closes another one opens, and if not well, you just kick it down and make your presence known. Laughs and remembers the time I pulled a door off the hinges at one of Joe's gigs...good times.

What's up, you say?! Everything, I tell ya. So...good stuff first. I have opted to resign from my daunting 20 hrs. a week position as plebeian cubicle dweller with headset at the Evil Blue Octagon. After much thought, planning, a little coaxing from the favorite guy and a realization that I do not need any help being miserable-it has been decided. Now, to decide whether or not to be a consummate professional and thank the folks over in Hades for the opportunity to border on self destruction at their expense or be myself and tell them how I feel. Two issues; the first is, I know that my stomach will hurt and I may even regurgitate a small portion of some vegetarian meal if I attempt to do this with any semblance of gratitude. That thought, and partially digested proteins are tough to swallow. On the other side, I don't want to blemish my resume, I can always use my full time status as label manager in lieu of mentioning the Evil Blue Octagon, but that's a little, y'know not quite truthful. See, I know that it is illegal to slander a former employee but an abrasive letter of resignation is part of your (in case you didn't know) permanent employee record and I don't think if they present such inclusion with neutrality there is anyway that one could fight it as slander. Trust that the slithering slitherers (yes, I still have Harry Potter on the mind) know a bit about Inhumane Resources and aren't afraid to use their powers for evil. As someone who would like never to return to any corporate structure, I'm like, "Ah fuck it"! But knowing that in a crunch, I look pretty sweet on paper and can land position in the corporate slave trade quite easily and affluently one has to think long term. I'm sure as I usually do, I will find the delicate balance between logic and hysterics and will conjure up something with just the right amount of sting. At the end of the day, it all really is about semantics.

Other goings on...there has just been so much, but I'm up and down and down so I've been pretty tight lipped (fisted). I mentioned Joe's gig, I'm such a total groupie! No, seriously I am. After so many years of this man making noise you'd think, I'd be at least over it if not completely annoyed, I'm so not. I love seeing him in all out "Art-guy-music-DJ-freako" zone. It's like, is that the same guy that was just bitchin' about the yard, or spacing it in yoga class? (That's a whole other hilarious story) Anyway, I get the groupie deal, but they're all still banished to Cockroach-dom, and you all know who you are! Uses finger to hold eyelid down...I'm watching you! I'm so not, but that was fun to say, you laughed too, didn't you?

So, yeah I'm leaving the job, school is just about in session and I'm in political tirade mode over a few recent happenings. And not that anyone other than myself really cares about this shit, but I gotta vent. This goes back a few days so not all of the details are accurate, I am 34 years old-but you'll get the basic gist. In case I have not stated this previously the worst part of living in Arizona is really the cultural void. For the most part the majority here is Cretin, Christian, and Conservative. There is very little tolerance for anything and anyone else (If you're reading this and counting your Black/Hispanic friends, justifying the fact that you don't go to church every Sunday and pleading your case against conservatism in the fact that you don't support this war-spare me, no really...please do-thanks) So, favorite guy and I are in the car and there is all of this yammer on a local talk radio show about Transsexuals being ousted from a Scottsdale nightclub for using the Ladies Room, urinating while standing and being loud and flamboyant. People are calling in and caller after caller they are spewing venom and dumb shit. They want to know if Transsexuals are gay or straight, they want to tell their story about the time they were in a bar with cousin/current girlfriend Becky Sue III and one of them types came in and made their stomach turn, they want to talk about how they don't feel comfortable receiving customer service from one of them, and it just goes on and on and on. I'm (of course) arguing (in theory) with each and every caller. When was the last time you were asked to confirm your sexual orientation when entering a public restroom, and is there really enough room (or concern) for Straight Men, Gay Men, Bi Men, Trans Men, DL Men, Women, Fat Women, Ugly Women, Smelly Women, Try Women (girls who like girls cause biys like girls who like girls) and more- designated rest areas?! What the fuck folks? And the club owner's cop out was he just wanted his "patrons to be happy". Was it Transsexuals Comp Night-so they were also patrons. I can't imagine they were too happy or he would not be getting sued! I do not feel comfortable being trained by an overweight fitness instructor, I prefer my beautician has a full head of her own hair, I'd like my dentist to have teeth and fresh breath and the only requirement for with whom a public restroom is to be shared is that they have to piss, shit and are a member of the public, am I right? At the end of the day if you don't like what is going on, with the exception of Tent City you are free to leave, just like I am leaving the Evil Blue Octagon! Does happy dance...

It's been real. As the weekend comes to a close that is all I can say to sum it up. As I am pretty off kilter myself it is hard to make much of the weekend other than insurmountable highs and intolerable lows.

Joe's gig, a definite high. He was so on, and although I'm so off recently, his talent and energy made for a universal high on Friday night. No one in attendance could deny having a phenomenal evening. There is an unmistakable beauty in love, whether it is romantic love, or love of art, when it is present, you just know. It moves me to see him in his element. It's bittersweet celebrity is, there really is no moderation, no boundaries, no filter, and much like our weekend, the journey has been paved in gold and goat shit.

Saturday, not so swank. My symbiotic high is over and the nagging bitch that is depression is weighing ever so heavily on my shoulders. Boxes of this school year's curriculum for both children lay unopened in the living room. I've unfinished craft projects on the kitchen table, laundry, dusting...now, if I could just locate my motivation.This week I've contacted three therapists for appointments and none have returned my call, I missed work on Saturday and it is unlikely that I will make it tomorrow as the thought of leaving home and dealing with the public has grown increasingly more frightening as the week has progressed. I'm feeling kind of like a piece of furniture in the house as everyone is going on with their usual routine over and around me. There is controversy brewing as the perils of puberty have also climaxed over the weekend, and along with my motivation my cape is amiss; I haven't the wherewith all to rescue myself much less anyone else. Man and Manchild will have to manage without my perspective this time. Yael is asking me about Hannah Montana pop up, something...aaah to be 8 right now...oh,no-wait then, I have to deal with the parents, their baggage and addictions, huh? Yeah, scratch that, bad idea. But, perhaps to be 8 and be her...now that's better.

Things are just not at their best right now, and I'm growing increasingly frustrated with the fact that I am not in a position to "fix" it on my own. I don't function well in a collaborative setting. Trust if I could talk to myself for 45 minutes minutes get to the root of whatever it is that is ailing me, write a prescription for something that will give me enough energy to have that conversation with myself and get out of this fucking rut, I would.

Well, where do I start? There is quite a bit going on this week (pauses to make an Alka-Seltzer on the rocks). Let's see yesterday, no Monday I finally made a decision regarding my recent mental state and opted to begin a course of therapy again, so I've been working on that. And not a minute too soon I might add since yesterday I was at the peak of my mounting frustration with the in-bred bureaucrats at the Evil Blue Octagon. I've come to realize that there exists this microcosm of misery; a handful of people that make the Evil Blue Octagon bearable-yes bearable not unbearable and then there are the powers that be. Misery truly does love company at this company.


I had a 30 minute meeting in which my supervisor was speaking in tongues,otherwise known as "talk-offs" by the abducted. You can identify them easily as they are housed in the larger sarcophagus known as an office. Most of their time is spent speaking in aforementioned tongues on handsets as opposed to headsets which are reserved for use by plebeians. Anyway, during this meeting I was (at least from what I could glean as I have somehow managed to escape implantation of the simian training translation device) admonished for thinking. Yes, I did say thinking. It appears that I am performing in a way that meets the needs of the business as opposed to scheisting, disconcerting and to put it in layman's terms basically pissing off clients. That is not the Evil Blue Octagon way. What was I thinking? How could I not be expected to annoy the shit out of people, calling them incessantly and repeating the same rehearsed bank banter ad nauseaum at the trusted financial institution which prides themselves as the place "where the right relationship is everything". Pardon my stupidity in assuming that said relationship might just so happen to be a good one. Now, it is all coming to me. Not!


What has come to me is that I need to begin a course of therapy for my ongoing sometimes crippling bout, sorry snit with depression so that I maintain a level of consistency in my everyday life which allows me to perform at maximum capacity. I have spent many many years investing in the prime real estate between my ears and will not, can not be beaten into submission for fucking health insurance! It is insane to think that my inability to do shit that doesn't make sense (Note: seriously, consider saving money in your sock drawer)has literally blacklisted me from existing in peace! I am tempestuous, at times belligerent, histrionic, but all times brilliant. It is very difficult for me to do something which defies logic. I challenge anyone reading this to right now, at your desk, on a bike, bench, bus wherever you are reading this blog-bear down and shit in your pants. Seriously, do it. What's wrong? No, seriously-why can't you do it?! Okay, what if I say you have to do it?! If your eyebrows are raised and you are laughing at this nonsense, you fully understand me. If you just shit yourself, well now I command you to hold your breath until you die because you're one of them. Back to the others, some time long ago shortly after you landed you learned, gleaned, acquiesced that shitting in one's pants is not acceptable behavior for the adult population, yes? It has nothing to do with socio-economics, culture etceteras. It is just never right to shit on yourself deliberately. Have I made my point? Well,as luck would have it I am one of a handful of employees that are not walking around with a heap of dung in their pants, hence I must sit in misery until my bowels break. Once that's done they will teach me to speak in tongues and then perhaps, just maybe they will revisit my resume where my tenure as upper level management and glowing recommendations and accolades will be considered.It is just the Evil Blue Octagon way.


I have a better plan, and it begins with some hard work as all successful endeavors do, but I am going to commit myself to battling some inner demons and really diligently pursue other options. Moreover, I intend to use the bureaucracy to further my plan. I will never make a difference in their magnanimous monopoly, but I can change the way my mental energy is monopolized. It is no wonder their benefits package is so competitive and attractive when they literally make you sick.I swear if I had any money I'd withdraw it all right now! laughs


On a lighter note, good things coming in, going on and out.


I am about 85% of the way supplies-wise with Pretty In Peace. I have a few more items, tools to acquire before I head to the "lab". It is amazing how this project, the fluidity of it, is happening. I think it really all began in April with my "no foods with a face" discipline and it has meshed rather cohesively with my yoga practice and even the recent events at home.The line is vegan, no shells, pearls, leather, animal based adhesives etceteras. Only fine metals to be used in the LIVE collection, although the LOVE and LAUGH collections will feature some plated metals and re-purposed plastic items. I will be up and running in time for Holiday 2007 with the grace of the universe. I encourage any and everyone to buy peaceful, handmade,local and re-purposed. If you have any old beaded costume jewelry, buttons, charms, please contact me as I may be interested in purchasing or trading for vintage findings. looneybirdmoonmaiden@hotmail.com.


What else? Joe and I are regularly practicing restorative yoga together. This would have been unheard of even six months ago for reasons that I can only speculate are tied to ego. Well as it would turn out the class is comprised of mostly seniors with the exception of the two of us, and one other yogi who could go either way. Point being, the universe made an easy-in for us to share this time and this practice that we otherwise would not have shared. To think we're sitting in savasana in this room at our local YMCA with people twice our age, of all different races, social statuses, backgrounds with one thing in mind: the 8 Limbs of Yoga. I strongly believe that we would never have seized the opportunity to know or even notice the existence of one another had it not been for this experience as yogis. And I sheepishly concede that I am rather aesthetically driven so the thought of this particular yoga class had it been accurately represented before it presented itself just would not have happened.The experience has brought me closer to nature and its natural order. I had been on the path but not quite walking it, you know. I have seen the graceful side of growing older and moreover how beautifully we can make do with what we are given.


Yael is back! I had written just about a week ago of an unfortunate incident with our youngest child. Well, she's been restored. It took a little while and I'm quite frankly not over it. I was really hurting about the incident and briefly set back while doing laundry as I came across the clothing she had on that day and her underwear,there were dried blades of grass and twig lodged into the fibers. I could just picture her being forced in to the water. The sight just brought back all of the pain of disappointment and frustration. But, she is feeling great and she's back out enjoying her eight year old existence. It isn't always easy to turn the other cheek and we don't always receive the credit we deserve in doing so, but nothing worth doing is ever easy.When in doubt, choose peace, and Diet Coke...lots of it!

I've been remiss in my blogging, not for lack of events but sheer lack of energy.Today was rather uneventful, I did my bid at the Evil Blue Octagon. Package Man assumed position in the lounge, appears he doesn't speak...I don't know if he has been muted as a result of the bungled man parts or just part of his angry dude schtick, but yeah he doesn't talk, go figure.

My Zumba class was cancelled, they're really trying to drive me out of my gourd at the YMCA. First Yoga Joe injures himself and that class is cancelled and now Zumba..."Hello, I am on a mission to fight the Wretched Suburban Sag...work with me people!" Truth is, I ate a vat of spaghetti with mushrooms today and was really looking forward to shaking some of it off.I guess that's what I get for being greedy, eh? Had I eaten it yesterday I could have worked it all off,cleaning up behind "Hello Shitty".

Hello Shitty is one of the names our neighbor's kitten earned during a brief stay at our house on Sunday morning. Shortly after Joe broke the garbage disposal.(okay he didn't break it but he rendered it a bit more useless than it already was, if that makes sense laughs) He went out front and heard the kitten yelping by the bushes so he brought her in. It was very hot yesterday, I'm guessing about 110 degrees and the poor little shitty-cat was hot and dehydrated and well, apparently needed some damn Imodium. So he comes in and asks if I'll give the guest some water while he finishes fixing the garbage disposal. (I'm totally teasing Joe is a very talented artist, he's just no Schneider) Anyway, although I'm not really up for company, I figure it is okay since I don't have to talk to it and even better, it won't talk to me. I get shitty-cat a nice bowl of water and while she's drinking I notice that her cute little rhinestone collar is wrapped under her right arm which is probably what slowed her down and got her separated from the rest of her shitty-cat cohorts. Immediately upon seeing the collar, I knew she belonged to those neighbors. Everyone and I do mean everyone has a neighbor that has too many kids, too many roaches or too many pets, you know the type. It's been about 10 minutes now and she's still lapping up water I'm not particularly intrigued so I return to my cave. I should have known that everyone else would grow bored of the Adventures of Shitty-Cat just as I did! A few minutes later I swear I hear some activity in my closet, and wouldn't you know it, the stinking little animal has now mustered up enough energy to go hitch her ass in the corner of my closet and shit! And to boot she doesn't stop as I'm carrying her from my room and screaming, she just keeps right on shitting. Seriously, I don't know what the hell she ate, but it was pretty damn funky for such a cute little guy/girl whatever the little funk box is. Needless, to say I had to shampoo my carpet, not exactly what I had planned, but such is life.

Joe did take Hello Shitty back "home" shortly thereafter, citing that he didn't want me to go "crazy", and in all honesty I probably would have. She/he, it was really very cute, but I had had enough.It was fun and funky while it lasted. I have a new appreciation for Beau as a result of this visit, I gave him a bath and conditioned his hair later that evening. Go get yourself a guinea pig, you'll be glad you did.

I'm feeling more emotionally exhausted than usual today, and largely disconnected from the "here now". Somehow I overslept and didn't make my yoga class which was the final blow considering I felt myself spinning yesterday and was looking forward to it. The level of concentration required to sustain the asanas makes it literally impossible to focus on anything else. I needed that.

I watched a program on one of those health and learning channels some time ago.Scientists have come up with an implantation device for severely depressed patients which allows them to press a button which releases a stimulus tied to or somehow catalytic to serotonin. Sounds like a winner. It was pleasant discovery considering we live in a society that focuses a great deal on physical strength and stamina and very little on mental. Far more people are concerned with heart attacks than psychosis. Sad, since the brain is the most powerful muscle in the human body and without it's instruction to do so your heart would not beat.

Today I'm feeling like my brain ran a marathon without training-not a good feeling. I'm also feeling my foiled attempts to slow it down have led to further exhaustion. Somehow I am going to one day have to figure out how to maintain more control. What was once my best asset is over time becoming an adversary. I must admit that I am frightened of eventually going completely insane. If we've come to discover Alzheimer's to be nothing more than brain atrophy,what lies ahead for those who are hyper-extended and overloaded? Surely, there are drugs which subdue the brain's activity, unfortunately-they have yet to come up with one which allows you to be happy,creative and bright at the same time. It seems your ability to conjure creative thought and processes are tied to the right side of your brain which also controls emotional response. You're either all here or nothing at all.It's a dark place to be, struggling within and you'll seldom get the support and understanding that you might receive if you had a more mainstream illness...no one ever suggests you, "Take it easy." if you're say, suffering from an AIDS related illness or otherwise terminal physical ailment.

I've some projects and events in the works that I'd really like to devote more time to, if I could clear the shadows long enough. I'm pushing myself, I know but sometimes I have to in order to differentiate fatigue from depression. It can be as chameleonesque as Oprah. Note: (Before some fanatical Oprah-ite attempts to contact me)Get your own blog and pay homage, I do not accept comments. Thanks. Truly, some days I can sleep indefinitely and never feel quite rested enough, awakening with the same groggy lethargy that put me to sleep in the first place, and then there days when a call or company will boost my spirits. Nothing seems to work since Thursday evening. And I'm certain it's not some, "Oh I'm old" pathetic birthday blues, because I'm reflectively grateful for all of my years, even the bad ones.

I drafted out some of my mission statement/product branding specs for my jewelry line today. I'm pleased with that. I also got working on some altered tins which will eventually be greeting cards in a can...pretty pleased about that as well. So, I'm moving just not at maximum capacity.Tonight is the new moon in Cancer, typically symbolic of increased awareness and creativity, now that is a grand prospect. Let's see what it brings for me...and Joe. He has a gig next weekend, it's the first time in a while that he's performed LIVE. He's done a few Internet radio shows, but a live set is completely different. C'mon Moon, show me whatcha got!

34 at a glance

Oooooh Hoooo! Wop, wop, cabbage patch, pump it left, pump it right, shimmy, shimmy, to the left, to the right, now sing, "It is my birthday, it is my birthday!" So far so good...

7:00 am-1st attempt to be disciplined and get in one hour of yoga and meditation

7:01 am-"Ok...at 8:00"

7:40-phone rings-Iva wishes me a happy birthday-she sounds more excited than I am...it's a good day, huh?

8:00 am-sits up at edge of bed, rubs eyes, stretches, walks to front of house, opens fridge, sips diet coke, sighs and returns to bed...

8:33 am-guilt sets in

8:35 am- rationalization commences, "Shit it's my birthday...I can do yoga on Friday...oh but I have a class on Saturday...that's too much...ugh"

8:50- rises, drops pajama bottoms on floor, picks up yoga pants, brushes teeth, applies pimple prophylaxis regimen and walks to front of house. Sips more Diet Coke, stacks floor pillows at sides of sofa, pushes coffee table against far wall, inserts Dosha Yoga DVD and wakes Yael...

8:56 or so-anger starts to set in as DVD is not working...

9:00 ish-Joe comes in to put out potential morning "fire" as I pace the living room and sigh more

9:10-I exclaim, "Well that sucks because that one was like new....The irony is, it actually is specifically designed to cool my Pitta energy...gotta love the universe, huh?

9:15-mats are in place and Yael and I begin the Max Strom Strength, Grace Healing DVD

10:00 am- we're done, Yael gives me a birthday card she has drawn...her artistic capabilities are improving-I'm really quite impressed, I adore this little girl...I check my e-mails. Lisa sent an E-greeting. Roxanne complimented my writing, they're sweet! I smile.

10:20- Joe arrives with gorgeous coral Gerbera daisies and other goodies that I haven't seen yet.. I tell him that I have gone over my birthday budget with last night's online shopping spree, he raises his eyebrows and I advise him it was only $1.41 over...his eyebrows settle again. I laugh.

10:23- I trim and arrange my flowers-I'll photograph them later. I ask Joe if we're going out for pizza tonight, he says, "Yes".

10:37- My breakfast is just about ready...

10:40- Sits down for breakfast with Yael and Joe, pushes pile of craft items to one side of table

11:00- Clears table, Joe retreats to office for nextdimensionmusic.com stuff

11:30- Getting restless, go to see what Joe is doing now...same thing, so I eat a bowl of cereal and invite him to accompany me for a nap in "5 minutes".

12:00ish- Joe and I are attempting to take a nap, Yael is "hiding" (whilst giggling incessantly at the foot of my bed. Now she's in the bed and she's climbing on us and kissing us and laughing some more...Jordan is still asleep in his cave

12:05- or so-I ask Yael to "scram"

2:00- I emerge from my nap...Joe has resumed doing nextdimensionmusic.com stuff, I wander around aimlessly for a few minutes. Joe calls me to see what he has done and asks if I'd like to go get more stuff from the store, I agree.

2:10- I mentally run current status of credit card balances and checking account balances through my head. I make a few calls and payments by phone

2:40ish- We're headed outdoors, I check the phone for messages, Roxanne called, Marilyn's coming-"Cool". The kids are arguing about who ate the last cinnamon bun, Yael has a light blue chenille throw over her head, it is her new hair, she says...it doesn't tangle. I shake my head and grimace.

3:00- We're out, I open the door and it is just ridiculously hot, we enter the car and I literally feel nauseated by the heat. I complain to Joe that he needs to garage the car, he mumbles something about how annoying it is to go in and out of the garage and starts the car.

3:12- We enter JoAnn and I pick up some sterling silver wire for a Pretty In Peace project (a line of peace and nature inspired jewelry I will be launching shortly).

3:26- We enter Safeway for beer and pizza ingredients, we discuss wheat beers briefly. Joe picks up Skinny Dip and then we switch it for Sunshine Wheat Beer.

3:30- We leave the store and some asshole mistakes the parking lot for the PIR (Phoenix Int'l Raceway) nearly resulting in a melee between his Suburban a really tiny luxury car piled with red-faced freaks.

3:46- We are home, Jordan is evicted from the kitchen PC for being shirtless, he pleads that he was bout to take a shower and I inquire if he will be "taking one in the kitchen" with raised eyebrows and a look that says, "that is a rhetorical question". Joe chuckles...

3:48- Siobhan calls to wish me a happy birthday and remind me that I'm an "Old lady".

Have I mentioned that my birthday ensemble consists of old yoga pants with bleach stains on them, uncombed hair and a workout tee? Yeah...that's my birthday couture so far. I will probably put on an old pair of Jordan's shorts and an oversized tee for the evening's festivities.

4:16- I finish updating the am portion of the blog while sipping Alka Seltzer...

4:20-Walking around, straightening up, giving orders...

4:30-I took a shower and put on some shorts and a tee, Yael says I look beautiful and tries to convince me to comb my hair just as she heads for the bathroom

4:45-I call my grandmother to wish her a happy birthday, we chat for a bit about the Bureau of Vital Records and how much it has improved since my aunt was listed as a boy on her birth certificate and another aunt who at 76 has lived her entire life as Virginia although her birth certificate reads Victoria... laughs and shakes head.

5:00-Lisa calls we chat for a bit about how our day is going, I speak with Em who wishes me a happy birthday,Lisa gets back on and now we have a brief wheat beer discussion, the conversation continues about nothing specific, Roxanne calls her on the other line while we're chatting...

Long silence, huh-well Lisa's phone is a piece of shit and we were disconnected and unable to resume connectivity for 4 minutes...she needs a new network!

5:20ish-Joe's taking the pizza out of the oven and setting the cakes on the table. We start eating, it's quiet with the exception of Yael; I think she is talking about a Disney show or movie, I don't know...she's just talking without breathing it seems...

5:49- Jordan has some Pop Culture game show on and Joe and I are discussing celebrity and how the wave of reality TV and the fact that anyone can make a movie/video has changed the shape of TV and eventually the Academy...Joe believes all will go the way of Sundance and there will be a few underground elitists...

5:58-Something about the chupacabra is mentioned on TV and a brief discussion ensues; I ask, "Whatever happened with that" Joe says, "It's still around." Jordan says he's seen pictures of it to which I add, "I've seen pictures of Marge Simpson too doesn't mean she's real ..."

6:05- I'm done with my cake Joe clears the table as Yael is still finishing up. As Jordan finishes he exclaims, "I won!" in an effort to set Yael off since she was unaware of the contest...

6:17- I step over to the PC to update my blog and Joe and the kids are in front of the TV

6:24- Iva calls, I can't really make out what she's saying...we're trying to get a family card game organized...

6:40- After several minutes of studying the instructions we've decided that a new game is probably not in the cards for tonight (no pun intended)

Everyone is kinda just loafing around a little dull as the brain cell energy has been usurped trying to digest pizza, pound cake and ice cream!

7:30- Okay second ironic occurrence of the day...Sunshine beer should be called Schizo beer cause I'm in the foulest mood right now...hmmm...

7:45-Mood swing increases in intensity as every fuckin' movie that I might be interested in started an hour ago or "this showing is no longer available" My TV aptitude is sub-par so just what the hell does that mean?

8:00- (I married the right man) Just as I am on the verge of breaking something, Joe suggests he go out and get a movie from the grocery store and his willingness alone to appease me calms the beast a bit and I opt to watch one of the existing film choices at home; Harry Potter or Nacho Libre. At least I have a great deal of respect and admiration for J.K. Rowlings literary expertise and so Harry Potter it is (says with British accent)

8:20-We start the movie and I'm surprisingly pleased as having read a couple of the books that I originally bought when Jordan was younger, I am abreast of the basics and the general character relationships throughout..Yael is still talking...

9:00- Pause the movie for more Alka Seltzer and get a load of laundry started while it is off-peak hours for APS, our electric bill was pretty hefty this month!

10:00- Evening blog update ends...resume movie watching

10:48-Movie ends and it's time to prepare for my four hour sentence at the Evil Blue Octagon. All in all, it was a pleasant birthday. Thanks everyone! I still have sandy brown roots, and my ID has expired, but look at all that I did accomplish...laughs...

11:18-Editing is complete...worries briefly as I'm quite tired and wondering if all of the necessary corrections have been made. Reflects on the movie for a moment and thinks, "I really need that pensieve" (pensieve: a cauldron-like object in Harry Potter Goblet of Fire which enables one to extract unpleasant thoughts and worries from the brain via wand)

Now that I've paid my bills, I wonder if I can charge one of those babies...

How about a little mathematics, okay? Today is the 11th of July 2007, that means tomorrow is the 12th. Do you follow so far? Good. (if not, log off now) My birthday is July 12th, my current New York State ID expires on July 12th 2007. My plan on July 6,2007 was to begin reading the AZ State Driver's Manual and obtain a permit by the 12th. A plan that would require due diligence as I'd be learning an entirely new skill in 6 days. Okay, well I have yet to open the manual and I have 68 pages of material to now absorb in about 6 waking dreaded DMV operational hours. Any suggestions? (don't be smug) I am fully aware of the ability to simply acquire an ID and postpone the whole learner's permit til such time as I am fully prepared, but I was kinda liking the whole do it on your birthday deal. I am fully opposed however, to failing. Contrary to Josue's Jeremiad I do not fail-except Mrs. Nathan's 7th grade pre-algebra course which was partly a result of a language barrier...I speak English. Favorite guy says, "Take it and if you fail you can take it up to three times"...I don't know, for me any endeavor entered into under such pretense is tantamount to, "Doc try it, if he/she dies there are more patients in the ER" I just cannot bear the pressure. Perfection is paralyzing! Decisions, decisions.

I've come a long way from my beginning as a paralyzed perfectionist. Much of my recent creative projects have been a concerted effort to remove myself from the confines of anything structural. There are no rights/wrongs in art, only art. My yoga practice as well...laughs boy if i could do half the shit experienced yogis do, I'd have a lot of money (and probably twice as many kids) laughs harder. Seriously though, to one that seemingly excels at everything where parameters are well-defined, operating in an area where there are none or they are unknown is frightening. It's like flying a plane versus driving a car. Many experienced drivers would shudder at the thought of piloting a plane. My fears are similar.

Looks over at time on microwave and thinks, "Where the hell is Jordan". Case in point, parenting there are no books, no classes, no real parameters-he just walked in-unless the state takes them away or you kill 'em, well then...yeah, you probably are not really good at it. He's lucky, too...4 minutes after the hour. I, early on before falling hopelessly in love-had no intentions on engaging in the uncertainty of parenthood. I could control myself and that seemed enough for me. Well, by 1988 my first encounter with the unknown; romantic love. No guidelines there either. You kinda just wing it and assume if he/she keeps calling you're okay. In 1991 we get married-oh good cause at least they give you some rules for that...or do they? "For richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health from this day forward til death do you part". Okay, no what? How does one get rich...poor seems simple enough. Does sickness apply to sick of each other too? How do we get through this and not kill each other. Aaargh, the unknowns! For the love of Guerlain, give me guidelines!

I've come to call this state of existence "Magoo", yup just "Magoo". If you've ever seen the cartoon, this guy manages to escape death and dismemberment by way of sheer ignorance. It's not the ideal scenario, but it appears to work. Clearly, it is not the technique I use for parenting, although I have a few times. Hell, so have your parents! Don't think the popular phrase, "Because I told you so," has any profound meaning other than..well, "Magoo". It is a method for deflecting the possibility that you may have evolved into a formidable opponent skilled at the art of debate since the last time they said no. Highly unlikely, but one never knows. Perhaps, I can Magoo my way through the exam? Maybe the DMV Deity will shine down on me with some infinite wisdom? The Birthday Buddha? Luck? Will I cave and stay up all night cramming and have Stewie eyes in my NEW! photo ID? Ugh...this sucks!

Love, Beer and Breastmilk

Now I'm not sure I've mentioned this previously, and if not-bookmark it: the only thing I hate more than stupid people are their offspring. This is not an idiosyncrasy, it is a deep-rooted philosophy. Just ask my worldly, pubescent son, anytime a new girl calls I ask, "Well, can she read?!"

My children have a special advantage because my husband and I get it. We understand karma, we believe and closely abide by the rules of the universe; under different headings, but the same end result. This makes for well-rounded, non-violent, socially intelligent children also known as "victims". My daughter, because she was born during the height of my social experimentation-even, more. Yael (pronounced Yah'ell) was nursed until she self-weaned at 3.5 years old, she is naturally intuitive and completely secure and at one with herself. She is the type of child that everyone comments on. I cried at a parent-teacher conference when the teacher stood up behind her hardwood desk, grabbed by hand in both of hers and praised the job I've done "raising such a conscientious, good person". You can see why I might just be a tad livid when my prized contribution to the universe appears at the front door sopping wet and sobbing after she was submerged in the puddle of an irrigation project in our local green belt at the hands of her "former friend".

For the past 120 days, I have been stridently moving toward an ultimate goal of Ahimsa. For years, I have advocated against spanking and more recently war, but many of my subconscious thoughts were in contradiction to this kind of peaceable existence. I've been working hard at being a better, more balanced, loving person inside and out. I needn't tell you that I resort to my primitive animal kingdom instincts when someone...anyone, fucks with my family.

When Yael came in, one look at her and I knew just who it was. She'd participated in some random act of cruelty last year around this time and more recently had lied about something trivial but enough for me to have the friendship selection discussion with Yael just this past weekend. Perhaps, it was Yael's decision to separate herself that led to this, I'm not sure but I do know that it took everything and I mean everything in me to not go outside...(Ok, well I did go outside). But, what I wanted to do was snatch her up and shake all of the high fructose corn syrup filled Otter Pops right out of her emaciated, ugly little ass. And, I would have if she had been within reach when I emerged. (And had Joe not called me "Cheryl Part II" as I headed for the door) Cheryl, my mother at 54 years old, this woman will still engage in an all out, "Go-get-your-motha'-and-I'll-kick-her-ass- too" fest. It is instinctive, the intrinsic nature of the species. "See the cute little bear cubs? Nice, now go on about your business 'cause their mother will slap your whole damn head off!" Got it? Okay, good.

I've always known, no matter how oddly she treats me that my mother has my back and I've carried that onto my own children but in an adjusted light. I love my children infinitely, I fervently (ad nauseam, just ask Puberty Man) preach compassion, respect and self-respect. In most cases they subconsciously practice avoidance where dangerous and/or parasitic social situations are an element. But, like everyone else, they will have their moments. The split second decision NOT to react, although gravely unsettling for the confrontational aggressor in me will pay off. Yael does not understand now, but she will. She will undeniably revere and respect the laws of the universe just as the rest of us here at home do. We've mustered up a little more love in our house today. Similar to the way you'd gather around someone who'd been attacked by a virus, cancer or any other draining encounter.

I guess the painful part as a mother is that Yael seemed to place more emphasis on the lost friendship resulting from the incident rather than the incident itself. There really is no easy way to express to her at 8 years old, that it is the other child that should be mourning a great loss. There is no easy way to squelch the pain in the pit of my stomach knowing that this is just one of many in a series of hurt feelings, abuse and rejection she will face in a lifetime. Cheryl had the best of intentions but it just isn't feasible to fight the world, and it isn't just. It is a battle no one wins when you really examine the outcome.

There was a time in my life when the closest person to me threw me in a proverbial puddle and rejected me. I fought tooth and nail (What is the history of the meaning behind that expression, do you know?). I formed every weapon of defense and destruction possible and the situation went on to grow bigger and uglier. It metastasized like a cancer and literally consumed me. I spent so much time and energy fighting that I left little time for love; self-love or any other love. I attempted suicide that year but I succeeded at something far greater. In one of my prescription drug filled hazes I stumbled into a card shop and bought a post card that reads:

"I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love.” ~Mother Teresa

I'm a natural cynic, so believe me when I say this is the only way to go. Think about it, when someone pisses you off, disappoints you rejects you, etc. We engage in this kind of eye for an eye warfare that leaves us all blind (read your Gandhi people). When you are true to yourself and either perfectly love the opposition in all of their imperfection or love yourself enough to not subject yourself to an abusive or otherwise unhealthy relationship, things seem to just work themselves out. If you've ever had a break-up and said, "Oh great, now that I'm single nobody wants me". It's because your aura is saying, "Look at me, I suck, I'm a leper, etc". But when you put your size 2T jeans on and a little "war-paint" (Iva, thanks! I love you) and do that little, "Go me" dance in the mirror-it's a miraculous transformation! Trust me, it's not the jeans, (Even if they are Gap low-rise boot-cut stretch-don't be fooled) it is the LOVE. I am truly convinced that love, beer and breast milk are the cure for everything. Stephanie says it is water...I don't know I gotta challenge her on that one.

Yael spent the day watching DisneyChannel with Joe in an old pair of my 3" Enzo Angiolini pumps. She's about to have cake and ice cream with Jordan and tomorrow morning she'll join me for yoga. We're gonna love her through this time and all of the others. You can't fight fire with fire but, breathe easy fire does eventually consume itself... always.



I felt cathartic writing this, it will be one of the entries in Yael's Red Book-a collection of poems, quotes and stories I've been compiling for presentation at her Menses Celebration. Now, go kiss your kids, call your mom, push your chair away from your desk and do a quick "Go me" dance, the tough times (and stupidity, hopefully) won't last long.

Namaste.

Today was a shit-filled day from its inception. It started at about 2:00 am with a wretched throbbing headache that went on until it was time to leave the comforts of my home and pay restitution in the form of financial consulting for the "Evil Blue Octagon" for providing my adoring family with health insurance. I need to move to Canada, seriously.

First stop for poop-scooping is the Park & Ride, although I clearly stated that I wanted to board the 7:40 bus the Favorite Guy has it in his mind that I will board the crowded-ass, standing room only 7:20 bus. For no other reason than, he is "Itinerary Man", (said in a superhero-esque tone) and his mental plan for the day prevails everyday and everywhere. It's been an ongoing issue. But at 7:20 am, feeling like I have a Jimmy Choo stiletto heel lodged in, not one, but both temples-not a battle I feel prepared to engage. Now, I get on the bus and although my day is off to a pretty shitty start it isn't nearly as shitty as the breath of the man panting heavily over my left shoulder the entire ride.

I managed to arrive without being noticed by the powers that be, which is a plus when you arrive for your 6:00 am shift at 8:00 am. The next few hours were seemingly uneventful as I was coming down from bus ride rage. I remained unscathed by the nonsensical yammerings of my clients. I think at that point I was grateful that I could only hear and not smell the shit they were talking.

Fast forward to lunch and the day is getting just a bit more flowery! I stopped at Yasda Bento picked up a vegetable bowl, loaded it up with hot sauce accompanied by a vat of Diet Coke and met Avery up at the employee lounge for eatin's. Avery is a co-worker of mine, he's a nice kid with a fairly positive outlook on life, but have no fear I'm working on him. Lunch went well, Avery shared his weekend adventures with a faulty garage door and just when I thought it couldn't get any better, in walks "Package Man". Package Man has been an ongoing source of amusement for me since I noticed his existence about a year ago. This guy wears the absolute tightest Levi's Dockers khakis hiked up to, I'd say about the third rib from the bottom. As a result his "man-parts" are burgeoning in an unsightly hump, or in his case "package" in his pants. I try to be grown-up, really I do. But, every time he enters the lounge I'm forced into uncontrollable laughter, which is heightened by the fact that he looks thoroughly annoyed all the time. And I'm sure he is with his parts all "a-cram" in the 110 degrees desert heat! Well, Avery can't partake in all of my Package Man hysterics, because, well-he's a guy and there's some rule about guys not looking at other guys packages. I think they teach it in Public Restroom Etiquette 101. Sucks for him, because this shit is hilarious and to boot, he seems to stab his fork into his burnt chicken more aggressively as my laughter continues. What's he gonna do kick my ass, uh, not in those trousers!

I'm exhausted now. I'm full. I've had a good chuckle, it's almost time to go home but I need a cup of coffee to get me through the next few hours. I go down to the overpriced coffee nook with the vintage pastries. I started calling them vintage when I advised the clerk that the cookies were dated "sell by" last October and she smiled like I was referring to wine, to which I snidely replied, "Oh is that a good year?'" Before neatly putting them back. So I fill my coffee cup and look around quizzically for the skim milk (bad vegan I know but that coffee is lethal on its own). When I ask the store clerk about the skim milk she looks at me like I've gone mad and says quite aggressively I might add, "Milk?! We don't keep that out, it'll go bad!" So I say to her, in a tone I generally reserve for those under 5 and over 85, "Right, but there are three partially stocked refrigerators in here-why not just stick it in there?" She continues to grow increasingly more belligerent and then she calls the manager who also looks at me like I'm nuts. So, I slam the coffee down and head to the fridge and buy a damn skim milk. As she is ringing me up and totally without a second thought I say to both of them, "I will never buy coffee here again I will sooner burst into flames while walking to Starbucks. This is the worst customer service I have ever received, I walk in, pour coffee and ask for skim milk and you two carry on like I asked for...ear of newt or toe of frog or some shit"! Don't ask why I quoted MacBeth, I don't know where that came from! But, yeah I quoted MacBeth and just as I walked off, once again, my head starts to throb. Ugh...

Joe and I went dancing last night! Music and dancing are a huge part of our lives. As artists, business owners, as human beings the need for creative expression through sound and movement is as essential as air, water and Diet Coke!

We went to Joe DiPadova's Straight No Chaser party at Homme Lounge in Phoenix. Joe's party is a good damn time, every time. The set is captivating and the captives are fascinating. Joe, as the resident captor remains seemingly aloof of his spiritual leader-esque status among the masses! To the left of me, the Brothers were taking it to church under a hot tin-roof in the deep south, to the right, hippie gypsy types were getting their Woodstock trance wave gig going. The Latin girls were calling on Yemaya with a seductive samba groove and well, the youngsters were "Blake-inating" a la American Idol's Blake Lewis! I'm not sure what this flowing, one part pop-locking, one part snake charmer dance deal is called, but the kids at Straight No Chaser are all about it. I'm telling ya! I'm sitting here with an odd expression as I type the words kids and youngsters. I'm far from a fossil, but I've been a club-goer for two decades now, and as dance styles evolve I've come to realize the difference; these kids don't sit down, they can't sit down..and I'm glad cause, shit I need a seat!

Favorite guy, (Joseph of Next Dimension Music) spins Straight No Chaser at Homme Lounge-138 W. Camelback Road on Friday July 20th. If you're in the area come out and dance with me, I won't be sitting that night! For more info looneybirdmoonmaiden@hotmail.com or check the event listing at http://www.nextdimensionmusic.com/.

I'm nuts, anxious and disorganized today. I so could've used some yoga this morning but Mr. Jenkins beat me to the spot at the center of the living room. It seems I've been losing many a battle for that spot since Joe went and got DirecTV! (growls and shows teeth like vicious canine)

My birthday is Thursday, "Yay birthday!" Although there is nothing particularly exciting about turning 34 there's always much to be delighted about in starting something new. I don't have big plans, I'd like a cake, some candles and the ever popular, awkward, off-key serenade. I'm praying that my Aveda Clove color conditioner order comes in by Wednesday! I'll be rabid beast angry if I have to have these sandy brown roots on my big day! What else? Oh, I have to get a learner's permit before my birthday! I know, I know I'm only 34-whatver. I'm so not getting it just because all of my peers have been moaning about it (as if I'm adversely affecting the planet's climate by not having it) There are namely two reasons why I feel it's time to learn to drive...well three. First, and this is the biggest-I think the Goddess is trying to tell me something. Seems I've sprouted some pimples and a few catfish like fine hairs at the corners of my mouth...kinda like a teenage boy! And, well what do teenage boys get once the pimples and the fuzz arrive? Girlfriends, learner's permits and cars! Joe would oppose the first. Plus, Portia DeRossi got first dibs...she must mean the latter two! Second, my ID expires on my birthday and third, I'm over the hairstyle in that ID picture. (although I wouldn't mind being 120 lbs again!)

I don't know the first thing about driving other than fastening the seatbelt and inserting a CD, so figuring out all of the ins and outs of it in...what do I have...six days?! This is gonna be interesting, to say the least. I'm confident though, it's Arizona and I've seen enough toothless tractor driving yokels to hypothesize passing the written exam can't possibly be that complex. (Be sure to read my follow up blog titled I Botched the Written Exam!)

Josue's Jeremiad

So, Tuesday evening after running a few errands and settling in, favorite guy and I head over to Safeway to pamper ourselves with a treat from their stellar selection of lagers. We pick up a six-pack of Skinny Dip and head back home to chill.

It's an easy evening, Joe is doing his notorious renditions of popular rap songs remixed a la Frank Sinatra (although his T-Pain, Buy You a Drank was a little more Tom Jones than Frankie) I'm on the phone engaging in virtual happy hour with Lisa who is back home in New York City, 3,000 miles away. Lisa and I chat for a while as Joe works on next dimension music stuff. It's a couple hours later now, I'd say about 10:00 GMT and I'm wrapping up my blog entry for the evening. The phone rings and while I'm inclined not to answer it, I'm just about done and perhaps it's an emergency-so I answer.

I'm going to set the stage for you here just a bit for those of you who are not familiar with the belligerent blurtings of my dear brother-in-law. I answer, "Hello...hello..." I hear his voice and while it isn't always a total disaster his tone tonight says disaster in a way that brings Chernobyl to mind! Hey Josh, how goes it...I look over at Joe's raised eyebrows and shaking head. Josh wastes no time, "Nothing man what the fuck, where's my brother how come he never calls me?" I sigh and take a deep breath (as well as one for the team) when I say, "Oh he's at work is everything ok?" Now sounding more somber than belligerent he says, "Whenever anyone needs someone to talk to I'm there even when I don't wanna hear their bullshit, this shit is hard man...I need to talk man..." So, being the glutton for punishment that I am, I inquire further. He erratically leaps into an almost exuberant tone and says, "Meka you know I fuckin' love you right, even though you...ah forget it I'm not even gonna talk about that I just love you..." I say," And I love you-but what's up?"-To which he says, "Don't patronize me, I've always shown you respect even when you went against the grain on my moms". I say to him that I'm not trying to patronize him and he responds with, "What are you doing over there on The West Coast? When are you gonna do something with yourself you're a brilliant woman you could've been a doctor, how old are you now 34, 35...get off that hippie vegetarian, homeschooling shit! You know I keep it real Meka-you're a failure, you let your life go to waste...for real a total waste."

Act One ends as my buzz exits stage left...

Now there are two roads I can take with this last comment, but with my yoga practice deepening and self-discovery increasing (yes my hippie shit), I opt the high road and say only, "that's not true, I am successful, it's just that"...Well what I wanted to say was that my priorities and ambitions have changed before he interrupted and began sharing his recent success in real estate and haranguing me about how he had a city job and a pension and a rather impressive net worth. Alas, we return to my failures, in addition to my fear of success and ultimately ending with me inhibiting the success of my children because I don't want them to surpass Joe and I! So now I'm feeling there isn't enough Tadasana in all of the Western Hemisphere to keep me from launching an all out, neck-rolling, full on, F-word riddled verbal assault. Yet, I remain calm but remind him that the dreams, ambitions and aspirations he speaks of were during a very different time in all of our lives.

Yes, I wanted to be a doctor at 15 when I started college, I also wanted to be president of the United States just a few years before that. I thought I'd seduce a much older Phil if I could only learn to put my lipstick on with my boobs the way Molly Ringwald did in The Breakfast Club. Well, I didn't become a doctor partly because what intrigues me is the human mind and not necessarily the encumbent human-how's that for bedside manner? I didn't become president and I probably just said that shit because some other nerdy kid in one of my AP classes said it. Truth is, I could care less about the governing rulers, and I'm not all that proud to be an American. Phil committed suicide years before I lost my virginity, we did kiss a few times and share some very deep conversations about addiction. And,well I never grew enough boobage to do the lipstick trick but I did marry a man that thinks I'm beautiful. We have two children who I've managed to keep alive, well-adjusted and sane without that medical degree in psychiatry. I support my children's dreams by loving them even when I'm not in love with their ideas. My 15 year old son wants to be a rapper. He's a talented wordsmith, perhaps that dream will come to fruition or he may coach one of his children to the Scripps Nationals, or he may do something completely unrelated and write me a hearftfelt letter thanking me for loving him and his sister with all that I am.

Josue, kudos on your real estate business, civil service employment and pension, but if the purpose of your jeremiad was to convince me that I am a failure, let it be the first strike against you. Thanks for reminding me of just how far I've come; success is a journey not a destination.

Act Two ends as the villain is slain.

Fruit for Thought

I'm so thoroughly eager and anxious and crazed and excited to be doing this. Hoping that I won't rev, spin, crash and burn as I often do. All of my Pitta energy up in a fast and furious blaze. I've been walking, talking (to myself) throwing ideas around in my head, trying to come up with a concept, a plan, an intention...that's my left-brain talking. And, at the same time coming up with a big ol' stew pot of ideas that don't quite fit together, but just might...that's my right-brain talking. It's puzzling, like the concept of Chocolate Zucchini cake-"Uh, who puts that together"? Me.

This is where it is going folks, by way of chocolate and zucchini. I'll be leftist, I'll be lobbyist, I'll be witty, wise, wanton...hopefully I'll be doing this shit for as long as it's been an idea-how's that for starts?

Yesterday, I was deep...

Do you ever have those moments of complete awareness? An in the moment realization of your existence and subsequent co-existees? I've had this going on for two days, starting with Joe and segueing into something even I...oh, never mind.

I, from time to time will just gaze over at my husband in awe of him and moreover in awe of us. (I don't know how to spell the sound, so think; oeuvre, minus the v and followed by eesh, okay? Got it? Good.) We have been together nearly two decades and we have been through some shit! Through the years, I have been known to have the patience of Mother Theresa and the temper of a mother#$%*, so longevity in itself is an admirable feat.

Well, yesterday we are watching television (a rare occurrence) and I look over at him while he doesn't know that I'm looking and this is what I think...Joe is like a tree and I am like a fruit. He could surely exist without me although not quite as appealing (winks and blows kiss) and I, without him but only for a short spell. The beauty of it? Through the years, we've each grown interdependently of one another and in perfect distance. We've been pruned, we've endured chills. We've ripened, at times all on our own, without nurturing- falling to the earth in solitude. Yet, we've always returned from whence we came, on time and in season.

Joe is like a tree and I am like a fruit, so why is the rest of the world in which we live in this segregated, compartmentalized state of unforgiving. We're riding each others' backs and stepping on toes, trying to rise above-only to fall to the earth in solitude and return from whence came? Our planet is suspended in a perpetual state of misunderstanding and misery.

Though my fears and anxiety about human nature build as my awareness increases, there is always that shimmer of hope. Yesterday, I found it within; within the confines of my livingroom, within the concept of commitment, within me. I hope that others who are potentially grappling with the state of their existence and ability to co-exist peaceably will find the quiet, place and space for such an in the moment realization. Namaste.

Le Premier

Well, it is Sunday and it's the first of July...a seemingly uneventful day for some, but for the Looneybird it means the start of something...anything- and, this Sunday, this first day of July, something is a blog. Now, Tea & Honey Bread started to take shape just over a year ago, sitting opposite my favorite guy in our home office. (I'll introduce you to him a little later) Anyway, we were having one of our usual "Cancerian-moody-creative-types" conversations and I mentioned writing a book of essays that I would title "T" and Honey Bread. T, well for Tameka and Honey Bread was a tribute to African American women particularly those previously enslaved in the South who gathered on Sundays after church for honey-dipped hard bread and "girl-talk". This collection of essays would encompass personal musings, life lessons and hardships; sweet goodness for the mind, body and spirit. Joe, (my favorite guy) was supportive and even excited at the prospect. I wrote a few entries, referenced some quotes to further discussion..but alas, the timing was off.

I have an ongoing snit-I'd hardly call it a battle, with anxiety/depression that makes planning creative endeavors ahead nearly impossible. If I have the passion and intensity to create, I'm too "low" to orchestrate it effectively. For lack of a better way to put this, the "smart button" is greyed out but the "creative button" is lit or it's the other way around and the project goes all left-brain!

So, skip ahead to this morning- we're just about to settle in for breakfast and Joe mentions that today is the first of July. Quickly, I recall devoting myself to the discipline of veganism on Sunday, April 1st and how that has been a success! I started thinking today felt alot like that day. The creative juices are a tad stagnate, but my "smart button" is lit and I feel confident and disciplined.


A few changes have taken place since the initial concept was birthed, the T has been changed to "Tea" as in freshly brewed and poured over and over, shared in good company. Only, with this tea, as the ice melts, the topics refresh themselves. Where there are good friends, there is always good topic! I don't have many good friends, but the group I belong to is an elite group of smart, beautiful, creative, hardworking women and "Honey Bread" is representative of their sweet goodness.