Lion and Magic Boy

I have no ideas.

I used to post at that place that shall remain nameless three, sometimes four, times a day. And now? Nothin’. I got nothin’.

Perhaps it is because my brain has been rendered useless by the helpless habit I have haplessly had this week of either 1.) staying up until some ungodly hour, completely unable to sleep, or 2.) waking up at some ungodly hour in the middle of the night and when it is dark out still and when there is a cat insisting on sleeping on my pillow next to my head and I know I have hours to go to still enjoy sweet blissful sleep but alas it never comes until the sun begins to rise and I have given up, which means I get about 15 more minutes to pass out with cat fur covering my face.

(Would any of this change if I began having more godly hours?)

Or perhaps it is due to the recent discovery that apparently I have been walking around missing one earring, causing me to tilt my head slightly in the other direction (and thus for important brain matter to leak out). Serena has promised to look for said earring among her vast collection of Stuff That Appears To Have No Useful Purpose But May One Day Prove Useful In An Unexpected Way, so the earring may turn up amid the acorn caps, pennies, balls of cat fur that the cat is no longer using, and random kleenex bits and Lego pieces that adorn her room.

Or perhaps it is because I am now mentally cataloguing everything in my house, everything that I know I will be divesting myself of over the next few months, wondering a.) if I really have the guts to do this and not just cave and box it all up to look at later, and b.) how much I can get on Craigslist for that almost-full bottle of vitamins, say, or for a selection of little metal skewers that are for making beads from bakeable clay, or for my 4168 books, or for all the other hundreds thousands of items that seemed like a good idea at the time to procure but now weigh heavily upon my brain like thousands of mini anvils waiting to drop unsuspectingly upon me from the sky when I’m not looking.

I adore Craigslist but is it too much to ask for it to resolve my apparent gluttony?

Nathaniel, just last night, asked me why we don’t just sit on mats on the floor instead of furniture and use little bamboo mats instead of plates and I could give him no good reason why not. We have Too Much Stuff. And soon we will just live in a cave and use our cupped hands for plates. And then my brain will overflow with ideas to write about, because it will no longer be cluttered up with unimportant drivel and instead I will write about, um, air. And rocks. And, um, stuff.

Yes, I am a victim. Although I often decry the victim mentality that’s so prevalent these days, I am one myself now.

Because the “high-speed internet” promised on the website of the hotel we stayed at this past weekend? Was possibly the Slowest Internet Ever, worse even than the 14.4 kbps dialup we all used to have. (Remember those days? And it all seemed so new?)

So I am catching up on 5 days of Unintentionally-Inflicted Internet Abuse.  Not to mention all the other abuses heaped upon us from our 4-night stay there, like the breakfast-that-wasn’t, the not-so-free-parking, or the fact that every other room in the hotel was occupied by college students convening in the hallways and in the room next door to ours.

Oh! My workshop in Tucson went wonderfully. The people there were all warm and lovely, and I couldn’t have had a nicer venue in which to teach people all about finding their personal power animals or connecting with their spiritual guides. And the best part was that I ate Mexican food every day. Every day! There was a little place down the street from the hotel where you could get two breakfast burritos, humongous things the size of a horse’s penis (thankfully I didn’t make this connection until just now while searching for an appropriate analagy; noticing that over the weekend would have made consuming one a very different experience) filled with scrambled eggs and ham and cheese and stuff and doused with two kinds of salsa, for $5. Five! Dollars!

And there were mountains all around, reddish rocky ones, and there was a hot tub under the stars. And channeling for all those wonderful warm people was like touching their souls, truly an honor.

So if you live in the southwest, I’ll be back there in Tucson doing this again. Soon. You can subscribe to my announcements!

The sad part: Matthew took a plane this past Monday that was pointed in one direction, and my plane was pointed in another. So I am fighting having to get used to the Matthew-shaped energetic hole left here. And everything else that goes along with that.

First! I have a new website! Well, not “new” exactly, but it looks completely different and has all kinds of great new stuff, so go! Take a look!

You should know, though, that when I say “I” made a new website, I really mean “Matthew” made a new website.  For me. Though I did a lot. Okay, he did a lot. We all know that. I am forever indebted. And I may never completely learn Joomla, and I have accepted that. I’ve moved on.  Don’t give it another thought.

So! Here I am in Atlanta! And when I say “Atlanta” I actually mean “the airport somewhere near the city of Atlanta,” because I am only here for three hours sucking electricity out through some holes in a column next to this rather uncomfortable blue vinyl seat while I (and when I say “I”, I mean “we”) await our next airplane, the one bound for Tucson where I am giving a metaphysical workshop for a group of people there this weekend.

And I also hear there is a pool. And it is something close to 80 degrees there. So after the workshops I am giving on connecting to your Power Animal and Learning to Channel and two group channeling demonstrations and personal channeling sessions, I will be ready to douse my fire in the pool. And then maybe the hot tub. And then some decent Mexican food, because there is none in all of Pennsylvania, and believe me I have checked.

And then after the workshop weekend Matthew and I will board separate planes bound in opposite directions, and I will come home to a very much more empty house.

And then the next chapter begins.

This morning I made coffee, as usual.  I was up most of the night and I needed coffee.  Really, really needed it.  I boiled water in my electric kettle.  I ground my lovely light-roast beans and poured the ground coffee into my french press.  I poured some maple syrup into my cup to sweeten the eventual coffee I’d pour in there after it brewed.  The water was boiling, so I poured it.

Into the coffee cup with the maple syrup.

That coffee wasn’t nearly strong enough.

Uh, I’m not sure I actually believe the rest of that phrase, actually: la plus c’est la meme chose. To me, things are always changing and never staying the same.

I alluded a while ago about issues with my mom. Essentially (and there is much more to say than this), I am tired of the old family regime of never talking about anything other than the most shallow of topics. With my mom the topics are my kids, my court issues/divorce (aka The Neverending Story), my cat(s), her cats. Safe topics. Venture outside that framework and someone (not me) changes the subject. Yesterday I spoke to her for the first time in weeks. It was shallow. I worked on tweaking the header on my site update while we talked (always my way of not noticing the avoidance of anything real has been to engage myself in something else while we talked). Then I told her something about another member of the family, something I think so far only I (of the family) knew about.

“You mean ____ doesn’t know?” she asked.

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Well, ____ should know,” she said.

“I know, but it’s not my decision,” I replied, thinking all the while then why did you tell Mom, you idiot?

She wanted to contact the other member of the family and relay the information. For the first time ever, I told her that under no condition was she to do that, that the information belonged to the first person and that I regretted telling her, and that we aren’t even a family “like that” anymore, not since my parents’ divorce, hello, close to thirty years ago, and that it was none of her business at this point. And to stay out of it. And that I would be very, very angry with her if she told anyone.

I’ve never talked to either parent like that before. It felt totally weird but kind of good.

It was like I came out of the I’m-the-kid-and-you’re-the-parent dynamic and became Just Me. I’m 44 fucking years old and it’s about time.

It’s been, let’s see, 8 minutes so far.

Nathaniel stayed home today. He coughs; it hurts. I would love snapping a photo of him in his pre-cough mode, bracing himself against an inevitable uncomfortable experience, face contorted, tongue out, body held in tense suspension, but he would likely object. I am pretty sure he has tuberculosis/bronchitis/a rampant imagination, one of those.

Nine minutes.

There. I have discovered the speakerphone button on this phone. That helps, since it’s awkward typing (using my 2-3 fingers) while also holding a phone pinned between my ear and shoulder.

Ten.

At least I have Rufus Wainwright to keep me company. Hold-music has improved. It could be worse.

Hey! They picked up! I almost told the nurse I was too busy blogging to talk to her, could she call back at a more convenient time? But no, never mind. I can talk (speakerphone) AND type. They will squeeze us in at 7:10 tonight. Yes! The wonderful U.S. healthcare system. Don’t get me started, but hey, at least we don’t have to wait 6 months like they tell us the Canadians have to do (yes, yes, I know that’s one of the many myths we Americans are subject to about Canadian healthcare, and oh, is this my first foray into anything remotely political on this blog? why yes it is. huh.), so I’d better count my blessings and be grateful.

Okay! On to more important things…

Someone (Eric, the self-appointed door-closer) closed Nathaniel’s bedroom door yesterday morning at some point. Early in the afternoon I heard faint muffled meowing and realized I hadn’t seen the cat in awhile. I could see black feet through the space between the bottom of the door and the floor. When I let him out, he was incredibly friendly and almost seemed…grateful. Gratitude is not a normal state for cats. Ego told me that not only was he grateful but that he missed us! Look at him! He’s purring and rubbing himself all over; he definitely loves me!

Yeah. Well. He’s also a cat. I should not forget that. Cats are in it for the cats, and that’s all. Everything else is an illusion. Remember this.

At 10 pm Nathaniel dragged himself to bed after finishing his homework (which had been pushed back in the schedule due to some important computer-game-playing and blog-reading), trying not to cough. Shortly he was back down. That’s when we found out the True Nature of Cat Behind Closed Door.

“Shadow pooped on my bed.”

At 10 pm, all I could do was suggest a different blanket, throw a sheet over everything, and wonder why Nathaniel never noticed it all afternoon/evening when he was resting, sick, on his bed and playing said computer games/reading. And I could make this helpful observation:

“At least it’s a dry poop.”

No! I haven’t forgotten you. How could I, since you’re my favorite?

Oh! I have to report that Baby Island is a genius and I am now drinking coffee that decidedly does not taste like ass. Whatever that tastes like. Let’s not discuss it. Mike, I will hit you up next on your offer/suggestion.

After a brilliant springish day yesterday followed by another cloudier but still look! I’m not wearing a coat! day today, it’s obviously raining cats and dogs right now. Mostly cats.

Which is obviously a segue into today’s topic: baby cat.

After Nacho’s untimely demise only a few short weeks ago, his brother Shadow’s transformation from fuck-you-I-don’t-need-nobody, to a lap! can I sit on your lap? huh? now? huh? has been amazing. Where he used to largely ignore us, now he follows us from room to room, often bounding across the room like a big ungainly cat-dog. badumbadumbadumbadum.

And he loves to play. Often at 3 am! (Hey! People! Wake up, look what I brought you! Legos! Oh, and a ponytail thingie! And an acorn cap! C’mon, what’s wrong with you? Let’s play!) But the string-on-a-stick is his favorite. He was kind of awkward at first but now he jumps a good three feet high, twisting to miss hitting his head on the edge of the coffee table I lured him just slightly too close to just so I can watch him avoid it. Fun! And he’ll get the toy out of Eric’s toy basket, too, dragging it out and then looking at us pointedly.

But the oddest thing is Baby Cat.

It always used to set my teeth on edge watching people carry cats around like babies, helplessly on their backs in someone’s arms, their paws in the air. Surely no self-respecting cat would allow such treatment!

That’s where I was wrong.

Matthew started it. But when I saw him carrying Shadow around like that I was sure Shad would be growling (often he growls just to growl, weirdly).

“No, he likes it. Look!” Matthew said while walking Shadow around the house. Indeed, Shad looked up and around him, interested in everything, his tail flipping happily. Baby Cat.

“Dude, this is awesome. Stellar. You people’ve been holding out on me! Why didn’t you tell me everything looks different upside down! Hey! Do that thing again where it’s all shiny!” and then Matthew would take him into the bathroom where Shad would look all around him, in a whole new world. “Fuckin-A, dudes, this is intense!” and he’d relax into Matthew’s arms, enjoying the show.

That is so weird. I’m not sure Shadow is fully 100% cat, actually. Must be some dog in there. He fetches, too, but only the tire off a toy vehicle and not on command.  We’re working on it.

I know, know. I’m getting reckless now with this posting-two-days-in-a-row thing. Setting a precedent. And guess what I am going to talk about? Why yes, cycling and cats, two topics that never fail to put you to sleep entertain.

First, though, I have to tell you I have become an entrepreneur. I can use that word because Nathaniel asked me what it meant yesterday and I advised him to go look it up in a dictionary (as if we owned one, because they are completely free online anymore but lack the heft and satisfaction from leafing through those onionskin pages devouring all the words known to man), which is completely ironic because that (”go look it up!”) was one of the phrases I hated hearing most while growing up, and he told me he didn’t want to because my definitions were always better. So I am smarterer than a dictionary! Which totally means I can use the big words now. So watch out, people!

Yeah. So I’m an entrepreneur. This is partially because, you know, the cash flow isn’t flowing the way it was. So I am selling off my kids stuff. Plus, I have too much stuff anyway and it’s time to consolidate. You would think that 2 cross-country moves in a year would have that effect, but no, at some point everybody just throws stuff into boxes and it gets moved anyway, and you wonder later why you just opened a box containing a carefully packed wastebasket. Still with trash in it.

So, want to know about my new business? Well, “business” is maybe a stretch but hey, if Amazon thinks I’m a professional, then there you go. And it involves printing out stuff and packing tape and mailing stuff and (eventually) some money might change hands and I will have fewer books about knitting to look longingly at there on the shelf. And I will have more shelf space and will RESIST THE TEMPTATION to buy more books.

Also I have some books on paganism. And energy work. I am serious! It all goes.

So. Today is became spring here, which means I got on the bike for the first time in awhile. I am happy to report that Horse Penis Hill isn’t nearly as daunting as it was a year ago, which means I haven’t lost it after three months of not riding. Oh, but I do have bad news. First, lungs still should not itch. This is just plain wrong. Why is there evil pollen in the air in the beginning of March? This cannot be a good thing. Second, there is about 10 pounds less to my ass than there was last summer and it is 10 pounds more bony. Which doesn’t, er, sit well with me, not on the bike. Ouch. I may be feeling this tomorrow.

This was going to be about cats. But like a cat, I am capricious. Plus, I had better save a topic for tomorrow. So tomorrow you will find out why we call him “baby cat.”

Why, hello! I am reminded I have a blog. So hello, blog! Nice to see you again. Have I been avoiding you? No not at all why yes, actually. But it’s not you, it’s me. I mean it baby! You have many fine qualities. I am sure you will find another blogger soon. Very soon. One with motivation. One who loves you enough to post every day, just like in the old days. One who updates your links and looks at your stats. One who loves you enough to tell you when you’re getting fat and then updates your theme.

…What? Well, yeah, maybe I can still be your blogger. I mean, we do have a history, don’t we? Two years of posting regularly, and four years before that of holding onto a blog name with a couple of really old and lame posts. Something about a trip to a dentist. I mean, what was that?? We’ve come a long way together, you and me. I can’t exactly forget all we have been to one another now, can I?

So okay. I’ll give us another shot.

Yeah. Well.

See, early last week I was told Strollerderby no longer had need of my services. They were going in another direction, and it didn’t include me (what? bitter? me? noooo…)  So, having spent approximately 3,209,577 hours in the past year trolling the internets for stories for Strollerderby, thinking about stories to write for Strollerderby and my angle on them, writing said stories for Strollerderby, queueing them up (for Strollerderby) checking stats later and counting posts, plus the all-important back-chat with my fellow Strollerderby bloggers, I sorta associate my laptop and indeed ALL computers with Strollerderby now. And nobody likes getting fired. It sorta hurts. So I have been discovering a world outside those 3,209,577 hours: hey! there are other things you can do with the internets! Like…buy things! (oh. sorry. nope, can’t do THAT without a JOB). And…look stuff up! Interesting stuff! (If you know of any let me know) And….oh look, I am making a new website! (coming soon)

So yeah. Associating writing with Strollerderby with the burning pain of being fired (better check out those burning-type pains, just in case…antibiotics maybe?), I have not exactly wanted to write much lately. It’s MUCH easier to simply ignore said pains and pretend they aren’t there.

So here is what else I am doing:

• Getting ready to give a metaphysical workshop in Tucson AZ in 2 weeks. Wanna go?
• Getting rid of lots of STUFF. It is time, for a variety of reasons. I am starting with Waldorf-craft and knitting books, since there is little likelihood I will be needing them any time soon.
• Lots of channeling. My work is taking me in new directions, a life of its own, blah blah blah. Sometimes you just have to go where life takes you.

And this is what I am NOT doing:

• Cooking. Why do people need to eat every day anyway? Several times a day, even? What’s up with that?
• Eating. See above. Seriously, what’s the point?
• Cleaning. See above. You just have to do it again the next time. I mean, what’s UP with that? The short people here can do some of it anyway.

So anyway, that’s me. What have YOU been up to? Spill it! I want to know!

Woo!

There. I got that out of my system.

Wait a minute, no I didn’t after all. Hang on. Woo!

Okay, there. I think I can talk now.

It’s been a week, hasn’t it? I mean, it’s been A WEEK! Not only has it been a week since I wrote last, about the lovely Valentine’s poem (has it only been a week since then???!), but lots has happened. Not so much on an external level, but internally, boy, things are MOVING!

First. I saw an actual doctor! For an actual physical-malady-thing! I won’t bore you with the details, but it involves peeing and razor blades and drugs, all things I highly recommend you avoid. Except maybe the peeing; that’s hard to avoid. But I’m good now, or on the way to good. So, One Down, and it didn’t feel so terrible to be one of the millions who fall through the health-insurance-free cracks. (Yay for being self-employed!)

Second. Matthew is still here! Imagine my surprise (and his, probably) to find him still here on a two-week visit that began two months ago. And, well, there is transformation with that. Like with everything. Not that I would jinx anything by talking about it, but maybe! And I am still feeling privateish about this relationship, like maybe it’s a gossamer-thin bubble, so delicate that breathing on it even gently will cause it to disappear. Like one day I will wake up and open my eyes and find I have dreamed all this. So I will remain in dreamland just for now, that delicious feeling when you are still warm in bed and half-awake and you know you don’t have to get up yet or even quite awaken from that dream.

Third. I read this post the other day and was amazed at the words exchanged between mother and daughter, the openness about past hurts and present pain, even the blaming. It seemed wrong to me at first, and then it began to seem very right. It got me to thinking. Remember when I wrote this? Since then I have avoided contact with my mother, mostly because It’s Our Way, the Avoidance of Talking About Anything Emotional. But I am getting ready to have some confrontation. I’m completely frightened of it, yet I feel drawn to it at the same time. There are things I really, really need to say, things I don’t even quite yet know what they are but will figure out in the process. So much has been buried for so long, and I don’t want to hold onto it anymore.