These guys rrrrrock!

Hit the link and you will see. WWRTD. I finally got to see the darling man I call a husband rock it out with his new band "The Ron Titter Band" and I was pleasantly pleased. There is nothing better than seeing him play and we got to go out and be rockstars for the night. Babysitter came and took care of the Jake and though the pocketbook is hurting today and my brain is hurting today, I feel 10 years younger. It's good to know that I can still hit the town and have some fun. It's almost 12 noon and I have done absolutely nothing. All the guys in the band are awesome and I think they are really on to something. Strangely, the bands went downhill after them. It was thier first show and they were tight. You could really feel the presence of Ron Titter. As a woman of 41, there is something really sexy about a bunch of guys rocking it out that you know take it seriously and are dedicated. All the music is on and the lyrics are hilarious. Greg is an outstanding frontman. Go see them. It was so much fun having a drink at Club de Ville and checking out all the fashion. I am desperate for a grandma type. What to do. What to do. O.K. I am on project diet. Gotta lose the fat. Think I'll go check out my cardio tapes now. Just wanted to spread the word of Ron Titter. I think we need a holiday. You know, trees, gifts, big meals, in celebration of the birth of Ron Titter. Can I bitch about Chistmas a bit. No, I'll save that for another entry.

Super Heroes, Tampax and Feminism

I typed this title to tuck away in my mind a memory of a day that happened quite a long time ago but is pretty fucking relevant right about now. Men, now is the time to "avert your eyes" because what I'm about to describe is going to disgust you. I have given up on tampons. I am tired of shoving cotton sticks made of god knows what up my twat once a month for 4 days and having to deal with the aftermath. Ladies, I hope you know what I'm talking about. Anyway, this story isn't originally about that. I have used mini-pads with tampons for years. Lately, everytime I run into a convenience store to pick up more mini-pads they never have any so I resort to buying max-pads out of desperation. The first pack I brought home was quickly converted into SUPER HERO bands by Jake. He was fascinated by the packaging, ripping open numerous ones and putting them around our wrists like the control pad in The Incredibles. We were both wearing them around the house proclaiming SUPER HERO status. I managed to wrestle the pads away from him without losing all of them in the process. It was the remainder of this packet that turned me on to the fact that maybe tampons weren't for me anymore. I was chatting with my girlie (sistagirl) friend, who's name I will protect in light of the topic, and she said she had stopped wearing tampons. I was intrigued. I tried it out and I felt better. It's a little crazy, old-fashioned and such but I feel like I'm 12 again. I did some more research and found that a few other girlie friends of mine were on the same path. Hmmm. I sat down at my handy dandy notebook computer and did some hunting and pecking. What I wanted to find was that tampons were bad for you and I was on a path of good health. I didn't find anything, but I did discover a website that is worthy of a peruse. These girls are discussing different types of reusable and environmental menustration apparatus thingiemajiggers with wonderful sarcasm. It all made me think of how women are creating there own feminism. Feminism had taken on this new meaning. Before, we were working on gaining equal rights but now we are more about developing ourselves into a more natural form of who we really are. Feminists dress sexy, love to fuck, crochet, cook, sew and more. A feminist doesn't have to leave the house. A feminist is a mother, a stock broker, an artist, a baker, a banker. But most of all a feminist is a woman who is being a woman. Hit the title of this blog and it will link to the site discussing period related products. May you go forward on the path that is best for you.

Boobs, Nipples and HotDogs, Oh My!

So, last night Joel, Jake, Gus, Red and myself were at the dogpark. Jake and I separated off and we were racing to catch up with Joel and the dogs. I was able to run quite aways and was really impressed with myself because my ankle has given me tons of trouble since the sprain. Finally, I stopped running, saying, "Oh Jakie, Mom's boobs can't take it anymore", (I didn't have a bra on). Jake responded, "Yeah Mom, let's stop, my nipples can't take anymore either". Now, that's some good stuff. We have been having some lengthy conversations about girls and boobs, and boys and nipples. You know, trying to distinguish between the two and such. It's so much fun to break out in a run like a little kid again, the one good thing you can do for yourself and your child is to break out and break down and get on thier level and just be a kid again. It's easy. And it all goes in stride with something I just read today that really cracked me up. It came from an awesome article in The Sun Magazine. It's an excerpt from Rob Brezsny's new book "Pronoia Is the Antidote for Paranoia". This is a brief piece in the article. The whole article is linked to the title to this entry. Rob Brezsny is the author of Free Will Astrology which is a syndicated feature in many free weeklies around the country. If you haven't ever seen it, well, I'm not sure what to say. He's very fun and wise and quirky and awesome.

"Make me one with everything," the buddhist monk said to the hog-dog vendor who was hawking food near the temple. The vendor made a frank with mustard, ketchup, relish, and onions. The monk took it and handed over a twenty-dollar bill. The vendor stashed the cash in his apron and turned his attention to the next customer. "But where's my change? the monk inquired. "Change must come from within, my friend, " said the vendor.

This article really focuses on a belief I have been pursuing for sometime, relentlessly at points. You have the choice to decide how you will perceive things. You can look at everything in your life with a negative influence or you can turn every single moment into a positive experience. It's easy to preach it but how easy is it to live it. I fail everyday, and I am reminded everyday of the absolute miracles in my life, mostly through Jake. Negative begets Negative. Is that right? Negative thoughts are like a nasty infection, eating it's way through lives and spreading itself everywhere, no stone left unturned. Stop, take a breath, and look around your life at what you can be thankful for. See the positive in every step. Nothing is directly happening to you. You just happen to be in the way at that moment. Anyway, catch a read. The Sun continues to awe me with outstanding literature in spite of themselves.

Just in time for Christmas

I know I've linked to her before but hey, she's my bestest of friends and I can't help myself. I love what she's doing. So, if you are looking for a truly unique gift or an awesomely beautiful card (that's 100% environmental) then hit the link to her site. Just surf around and you will find cool cakes that are made of wooden bases with her 100% locally drawn art pieces on them and coated with a caustic wax top. Check it out on her site because I suck describing it. Her cards are printed on paper that have seeds embedded in it and she uses soy ink so it's the gift that keeps giving. You and your child, mother, grandmother, husband, boyfriend, girlfriend, wife, dog, cat, etc. can plant this card and the memory will live on forever (as long as you water it regularly). Anyway, just check it out and you will see that she does a much better job of describing it than me. O.K. stay tuned for lots of positive living reading. My yoga is staying on track and making me feel very good about my core. Gotta get up and clean, clean, clean. The story of my life. Have a good week.

Caramel Apples

So, I do not make pretty caramel apples. But, I'm sure they are good. The time change was right out of nowhere. I mean, whoa. So, I was up bright and early, doing my YAAC and then making caramel apples before 9am. Here I am giving all of my 2 readers an update on life as a homemaker. As it turns out, there are all kinds of fancy recipes for a good caramel apple, but I just melted them and dunked them and rolled them in walnuts I had leftover from the last shoot. I'm excited. Anyway, for any of you trying to do some apple dunking in the next two days I have provided a link of fancy recipes. Do tell, how do you melt your caramels?

Hip Home Ec, Cooking and so much more

So, we made it to the beach and back and I've somehow got a handle on my new routine, YAAC, YOGA AT ALL COSTS. Since we have returned I've been trying out this new thing that's an old thing called "cooking supper". Nutty. I've discovered an awesome book I wish I'd had around when I was a single chicky called, "Hip Home Ec, Get Crafty" by Jean Railla. It's really wonderful with handy tips about sewing, gift making, girl power and what you need to have in your fridge at all times. I'm still fantasizing about a life of cooking, sewing, baking, gardening, yoga and such. Halloween is upon us and I'm dreaming of pumpkins and candied apples. We went to a fun carnival at Travis Heights elementary and ate all kinds of bad stuff like corn dogs, sausage wraps, flavored ice, cookies, cupcakes and popcorn. Ooooh. We went through a scary haunted house and I had a ladybug painted on my face. We went with old friends and it was a lovely evening. Jake has decided to be spiderman, so we will see how that goes when we actually put the costume on him. Independent minded fella that he is, you never know which direction he will go. I've got a new handle on the yoga thing. I have decided that I have to do it every day. It's important for my mental well-being and makes me feel better than just about anything else (except for orgasms, teehee), jeez did I just say that out loud. So, with that said, I have explained to "THE JAKE" that he can watch me, do it with me, or go to his room. That seems fair. Part of watching me is sitting on the couch giggling and saying "butt, butt, butt" every time the instructor does a "hiney in the air" pose. Oh well, I still see it as progress as long as he does not climb on me. I'll be honest, I have not pursued my efforts of being a rollergirl impersonator. I'm still trying to perfect my impersonation of myself, which is pretty fucking hard I might add. Still working on me, yup, trying to figure out just who I am don't ya know, yep, yep, yep. So, let me know if you have any clues. So, in closing, I will just say that the trip to Port Aransas was so amazing and beautiful and perfect. We had to leave the pups behind because it was too damn pricey to bring them. The Beachgate encourages you to not bring them by charging $15.00 per night, per dog. OUCH. It was actually very relaxing not having them and we really focused on Jake, eating and drinking beer. We just pondered and wandered the beach and Jake was so happy there was a permanant smile on his face that was downright goofy. We promised ourselves regular visits. As our good friend Dave said last night . . .every 7 days, every 7 weeks, every 7 months, every 7 years. It's been a while for us and we truly embraced it.

Jake and Yogurt and Yoga

I'm sitting here with Jake, while he eats yogurt and I drink tea and I'm trying to explain to him why I want to do yoga and why I wish he wouldn't crawl on me while I do it. I want him to share yoga with me, I want him to learn to appreciate it. But, when I do it, he crawls all over me like a monkey. It's a bummer. We are packing up the fam and heading to the coastal of town of Port Aransas, Texas. It's wonderful and I'm so excited I could pee. I have not seen the ocean since January 2004. That was Hawaii and it was awesome, but going to Port A is liking going home. I've been visiting that town since I was in 3rd grade. That's a long time. I haven't been there in years. It's a healing process and we are always in need of a little healing. We are staying at the everlasting, everlovin' Beachgate. Once again, been going there for years too. This is Jake's 1st visit to the Texas coast and he's really excited. Click on the title entry and you can see a very fun place to stay in Port A.

Inner Peace

Is it possible. How can I justify trying to impart such a thing when I am so far from it myself. Though I will not deny you that I am feeling closer to it now than I have in a while. As I creep ever so closely to my 41st birthday I know that I am entering a very favored decade. Many women say that this decade and turning 50 was one of the greatest turning points of thier lives. A time of happiness, security and comfort. I know that this can be true. Of course, financial freedom always helps and I'm sure that many women attain it moving into thier 40's. I guess you either accept who you are or figure out what you are about. Either way, I am still a little confused by all of it. All I know is that I am Jake's mom. That's good. The rest is just eggs in the fridge, the last spoonful of peanut butter, a found candybar in the fridge, the 10 dollar bill in the dryer. You get it, right. Joel and I embark in the last 3 months before starting the last effort to have a 2nd child. I would by no means say we are desperate, but we would really love to have a baby in the house. Jake wants it too, more than we can imagine. He talks about twins, a baby brother and a sister. TWINS. O.k. I can do that. YOU CAN DO IT! I yell to my ovaries, my eggs, Joel's sperm. Let's clean up our act and get the hell out of Dodge. I want to start trying yesterday, damnit. I have to try so hard to ignore that little, evil voice in my head that says "You can't do it, you've tried, it won't work. You are destined to one only child." And, that is not so bad, but I keep seeing a little girl. And is that so wrong. I had her in my damn hands and she slipped away. So, we try again. Other than that, we are balancing the act of making money and having a life. We don't do either with leisure. No middle ground here, only highs and lows. I heard an amazing interview with John Lennon on KUT, 90.5 (Austin). I continue to be amazed by him and really by the Beatles. I dug up Jake's 1st album, The Beatles 1, Greatest Hits. It's awesome. Diverse. Try to check the interview out on KUT archives. I couldn't find it, but I was in a hurry. Start a donation jar for my yogayoga certification. If you donate, I guarantee you free yoga lessons for life. Yes, I'm liking that idea a lot. Adios, Ciao, Aloha, Shalom. Happy New Year.

For all you readers . . .

If you are reading this blog, I have decided to spend some time on my yogadenada blog. It's for building and assisting an at-home yoga practice. So, take a look and I will work on it over the weekend. I'm still working on my rollergirl impersonation and I just found out about something called punkrockyoga in Seattle. Wow. Check it out by hitting the title of this entry. It's so cool and I may just have to wrap it into my aspirations of a certification at YogaYoga. Well, all my preparations for a big storm today are for naught. I guess we won't even get a drop of rain. Joel wins this bet.

More Rollergirl & Molotov

So last night we went and saw the band Molotov. It fucking rocked and I got so excited I had to drink a beer, which I have sworn off as of late. As I always say, if you don't know Molotov, get to know them, they are a hardcore, talented, Mexican rock band that make you want to jump up and down and yell "Chinga Tu Madre" at the top of your voice. Can you do that? I couldn't. I was very poised. Anyway, after much discussion, Joel and I decided that I would prep to be a Rollergirl. I'm gonna build up muscle, get lean, fuck up my hair, go crazy, get tattoos and basically grow into my own. I'm gonna learn how to rollerskate. But, I'm not going to become a Rollergirl because I can't even kill a spider so how could I possibly elbow a chick in the chest. Please stay tuned for any updates on my shaping up to be a non-Rollergirl that looks like a Rollegirl. Yeah, a Rollergirl impersonator. Oooooh. I need a name.

I wanna be a Rollergirl

Really. I just got my latest issue of BUST magazine and once again I am rocked off my ass by this amazing piece of literature that excites me to no end. There was a spread on Rollergirls and I got so excited. I mean in this world of exquisite and exhaustingly expensive fashion, the Rollergirls have got a style that is in my heart and soul. Being a mom who has to escort my son to the wonderful Jewish Community Center, I am so hyperaware of what I look like and I really am not cutting it. Even when I try to look normal, I get so frustrated and end up in some half-baked outfit that just makes me look like trouble. If I were a Rollergirl no one would care what I looked like because I would be a Rollergirl and I would be one tough ass chick. I could get a bunch of tattoos (but I can't afford them, and I would have tons if I could afford them) and keep my hair all bleached and fucked up and have blackeyes and bruises and maybe even lose a tooth. I am going to go get some rollerblades and start skating tomorrow damnit. I wonder if they will have me. I mean I have never even broken one single bone. I'm terrified. Will these girls really be mean or are they really sweethearts who just look mean. I'm so excited. I'm going to be a Rollergirl. Now, I just gotta learn how to skate.

The Peace Book and John Lennon

Imagine there's no heaven
It's easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people
Living for today...

Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace...

You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one

Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world...

You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will live as one

In reading these lyrics, I remember that there was a time when people wanted peace and pursued it at the cost of their own lives. I want something greater than withdrawal from Iraq, which I understand is impossible right now. I want something more than the equality of all beings, black, white, brown, red, yellow and purple. I want a world where my son can grow up not pointing a gun at another man, woman or himself. I want a world where global warming is a history lesson on what we did right to change it. I want us to work with each other not against each other. I don't know what happened in New Orleans. I know as much as I can reading the CNN reports and watching 20/20. I know that it was bigger than the Mayor or the Governor or the President or the Federal Government. No one is to blame and everyone is to blame. But more importantly, what are we as people doing for our future. Are the hurricanes a result of global warming? Were the people of New Orleans left to sit in their own shit because they are black or because they are poor. Why is it that people live in this country at a poverty level that I cannot imagine even though I can barely pay my bills every month. The distribution of money in this country should be brought into question during this immense tragedy following on the heels of Iraq. I know that 911 is a distress call. If my house was flooding and I was trapped in my attic I would call 911 and I would assume that all efforts would be made to get me out of my attic. New Orleans issued a 911 and it was as if there were no directions to the location. I'm not sure what I'm getting at, but when I step back and look at the big picture I see a national problem that is bigger than whether the mayor or governor did their job correctly or whether even the president handled things properly. I see the United States driving at warp speed down a dead end road. With that said. . .I bought a book called "The Peace Book, 108 simple ways to create a more peaceful world". And I'm trying to understand the environmental issues that might be at play through natural disasters. I have so many thoughts coursing through my heart and mind and I'm not sure where it is all leading to. I guess I just feel that New Orleans brought into play the horrible unbalance in America. I'm subject to these issues. Joel and I work hard to take care of our lives but we run behind every month. We have college degrees and we make good money. What happens to those who weren't given the opportunities that we were. Why is it that we can't get a balance in this world. We are so busy spreading democracy that we have forgotten how to take care of our own. If you click on the title of this entry you will be sent to the Humane Society of the United States. I cannot get the animals off my mind during this tragedy. I have signed up to take a dog. It saddens my heart to see all these animals searching for their owners. Thanks for letting me pour my heart out.

Buffalo Springfield Struck a Note

There's something happening here
What it is ain't exactly clear
There's a man with a gun over there
Telling me I've got to beware

Think it's time we stop
Hey, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down

There's battle lines being drawn again
Nobody's right if everybody's wrong again
Young people speaking their minds once again
So much resistance from behind

Think it's time we stop
Hey, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down

What a field day for the heat
A thousand people standing in the street
Singing songs and carrying the signs, oh no
They mostly say "hooray for our side"

We've got to stop
Hey, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down

Paranoia strikes deep
Into your life it will creep
It starts when you're always afraid
Step outta line the men come and shoot you down

Think it's time we stop
Hey, what's that sound
Hey, hey, hey we've got to stop and take a look around
No, no, yeah stop, hey, what's that sound hey, hey, hey
We've got to stop and take a look around

Think it's time we stop
Hey, what's that sound
Look what's going down yeah, yeah, yeah

Bush Sucks

I think I can comfortably say that if there were ever a time to feel justified in your disgust for a president, now is it. As Bush smirked and tried to squirm out of why the people of New Orleans have not received immediate help, I was appalled and once more completely embarrassed to be an American. Finally, maybe now, the American people as a whole can see what an absolutely ego-centric imbecile of a president we have leading (????) our country. Attached to this title is an interview with New Orlean's Mayor, Ray Nagin. This interview gave me chill bumps. If you know someone right now who is seemingly and wholy unaffected by this situation, walk over right now and fucking punch them for me, please. I'm disgusted by the apathy. I'm so tired of living in a country where international involvement continually takes precedent over saving, helping and assisting the poor, innocent people victim to natural disaster. This isn't just happening to those people in New Orleans, watch how we are all affected by this. How much more grief must we be subjected to. Now is the time to get up off your ass and do something. Read this interview and maybe you, me and everyone will understand a little bit more about what's happening in New Orleans. Those people LEFT behind couldn't leave, couldn't fathom it. It's like warning an ant bed before you poor gasoline on it. They wouldn't hear you and they wouldn't know what to do because they wouldn't understand what you are saying. This is New Orleans. These people have lived here for generations. It wasn't going to happen to them. Right. You know this feeling. It won't happen to me. Well, just wait, because it will. Now is the time to take a stand and make a voice be heard. The lop-sided way of doing things in this country has got to turn around or we as a state, a country, a world and race will never survive. Next up, the insurance companies are refusing to reimburse the victims of New Orleans because it was a flood, not a hurricane. Hold that thought while I dig up some ammunition on the most fucking corrupt business since the government.

My heart goes out to New Orleans.

I can remember spending Christmas in New Orleans. My ex and I would eat Christmas Dinner then head out on the 8 hour drive to New Orleans to spend the rest of Christmas in some hotel, gambling and drinking until all hours of the morning. I remember driving my mom to New Orleans to drop her car on the boat to go to Bahrain. We stopped off at the coastal towns and laughed because we couldn't understand cajun. Trading off who would get out of the car to get directions. I remember walking the streets and fantasizing of starting a new life there. It's culture is so far-reaching, the beautiful, colorful people of New Orleans. I just found a copy of Jitterbug Perfume by Tom Robbins and considered re-reading it for the 3rd time. Now, I think my heart would ache hearing the descriptions of that crazy city. Will New Orleans ever recover and what happens to all of those poor people who have lost everything. It makes me appreciate my extremely humble life and puts everything in perspective in terms of money and success. I'm so grateful for my son and husband and my little house and all my family. Joel's dear friend Happy has left his home with his 3 year old son, wife and new born baby. They have left everything behind including thier financial resources. If you click on the title of this entry you will be sent to a CNN site that is open to people reporting thier personal experiences of this tragedy. It's important to read these entries and know the very first hand experiences of people just like you and me whose lives are being upended by this horrible mishap, and those survivors who narrowly missed death. If you have the resources, please consider donating. If you have too many clothes, clean out your closets now. Whatever we can do to help our brothers and sisters in this life-changing natural disaster. With that said, I'm off to deal with my own life.

My son is obsessed . . .

with his butt, my butt, Joel's butt, boobs, vaginas . . .whatever. What does this mean? Please tell me. He told me to eat his butt the other day and I said "no thankyou" and he said "But, I can't eat it all by myself." Huh??? He told his teacher she had big boobs the other day. And she does. Speaking of teachers. We had our first at-home project to complete. We had to decorate a body outline to look like Jake. We went to Hobby Lobby and picked up stickers, yarn, beads, etc. Jake was most interested in squishy paint brushes that burp paint out on the page when you squeeze them. I was definitely keeping control of the project but gave him a nice creative rein. It was fantabulous in that classic way I have of making art look like a 3-year-old did it, but really he did it, no damnit, really. Anyway. I was so scared that I wasn't going to be able to deliver it with him to school the next day (yes, we did it at the last minute, what do you expect) because I thought I might have to work early, but, I got to proudly carry our work of art to class. I was so damned excited, I delivered it to the teacher, expecting some sort of praise, like "Oh my, this is the best one, you win $1000.00 bucks." But, Sarita (the teacher) just graciously took it and proclaimed "How cute!". Jake was completely oblivious to the whole thing. He's super. He loves Chabbat and is pronouncing Challah perfectly, even though I screwed it up for a few good days. I'm working a bit right now, trying not to work too hard, but with that said, this is as good as it gets. Let's see if I can attach a pic of that work of art we created.

This could be gross!

Today Jake would not keep his head out of my butt. Ooooh, Grossssss. You say. Well think about it. For a little boy, there is nothing more entertaining then a big old butt to hit. Now, at 3, Jake's head fits perfectly into the bottom of my butt. He finds it very entertaining to run headlong right into the big old thing. He also thinks it's fucking hilarious to pull up my skirts in public. Today he stood at a bakery with his head shoved right up my butt saying "Don't you fart on my head mom". Now, this is funny because I always make really loud farting noises while I bend over and stuff just to make him laugh. Well, guess what, that's coming back to haunt me almost immediately. HarHarHar. Anyway. It's all fun and games and he will be the clown of the class when he's in school but for now he's just charming them with his good looks and "honeys". I guess his second day at the new school he was playing with a little girl and saying "Bye honey, I'm going to work now". O.K. Well, all I can say is hooray, we got him out of THAT SHITHOLE, STEPPING STONE ON RICHCREEK IN CRESTVIEW. Yes, I've finally got it off my chest. That's the place. Stay away from Stepping Stone. When you have daycare, and I say daycare because that shithole was definitely not a preschool, like they tried to say they were, that has numerous locations then you have trouble. It is very difficult to maintain quality control when you have locations with no one watching them. I don't know what was going on there but Jake came home 3 times with split lips and a large bump on his skull. They did not file accident reports and the teacher did not apologize. The director and the teachers were always in a bad mood, yelling at the kids and rolling thier eyes. We knew there was a problem when Jake did not talk to anyone there in 3 months, and Jake talks to everyone. Even the parents could be depressing, scurrying in to get thier kids, barely looking at each other, no smiles. Anyway, now he is at the JCC-ECP and life is good. He didn't even blink an eye when I left him the 1st day and did not want to leave when I picked him up. I have witnessed numerous hugs from teachers and everybody is smiling and happy. I'm in heaven. This whole school thing is rough but we have it covered for the next 2 years. Then what, I don't know. We will call this my bitch entry. I think I'll go sew. So just so you all know, this new school is Judaic in background. So just to keep things spicy I've linked the above title to a nice little thing called Judaism 101, just in case you need to brush up. Tomorrow is Shabbat. Jake wears a white t-shirt, eats challah bread and says prayers. And he's learning Hebrew. How cool is that. Bet ya never thought it would happen to a girl like me.

More, Natural Health and Creative Visualization

For any guys who are reading this blog you should probably just hit the link in the title of this entry and go check out some fucking cool tunes to purchase. For all you girls, read on.

The spring after my 40th birthday (yes, it's true) my mother proposed the idea that I get a subscription to MORE magazine, Great Style after 40. I scoffed. I'm the girl who subscribes to Bust and Nylon and ReadyMade. I'm cool, hip and so. . . not 40. I told her "Thanks, but no thanks" and proceeded to hand her a number of subscription cards to magazines I not only wanted, but desperately needed for my social existence. Mom goes home and I settle into my routine and my mail comes everyday. Then, a couple of months ago, low and behold, in comes my 1st MORE Magazine through the mailslot in out house. First, I was disgruntled and insulted. My mom never listens to me. But, because I'm a sucker for magazines and to prove to you that I am. . . I have my Bachelors in Magazine Journalism, I could not refrain and had a little looksee. Well, wow, I have to say I was impressed. Right off the bat I noticed plenty of articles about women having babies in thier 40's. And, there were beautiful, strong, intelligent, confident women in the pages that looked normal in size and shape. That's exciting because I am normal in size and shape and beautiful, strong, intelligent and confident, and I'm 40. Hey, I'm starting to like this magazine, damnit. Why is mom always right (some of the time). While we are on magazines let's also chat about NATURAL HEALTH, the Feel, Look and Do Good magazine. I just picked it up at the healthy food store in Ft. Worth and found an awesome article on overcoming infertility, 14 natural strategies. The information in the article was pretty obvious for alternative methods but it turned me on because I do want to get pregnant again and I would love it if it was a normal pregnancy that went to term with a healthy baby. Wierd, I know. Silly of me to expect something like that, but do you blame me. The article chats about using acupuncture and Chinese Herb therapy to assist in the process of getting pregant. I'm a mixed bag about the topic. I want to work on getting pregnant, not now, but in the new year, but I don't want to try so hard that it consumes us and all our habits. Nonetheless, it certainly never hurts to practice a more healthful way of living and this magazine really turns you onto some wonderful recipes that are simple and pure. It is informative about a way of living that goes hand in hand with a yogic lifestyle (look for my next blog, yogadenada, soon to be premiered here at redtruckbetty). What I want for myself and what I actually do are very different, but I refuse to give up. I visualize being an overall wearing, thick gray hair to my waist, healthy 70-year-old vegetarian, gardening lady who teaches yoga for a living. I am really excited about it too. And . . .that is my segue into a book that I just bought via Amazon (I love you Amazon) called "Creative Visualization, Use the Power of Your Imagination to Create What You Want in Your Life" by Shakti Gawain. I will admit to you that I have read nothing but the forward at this point but I will tell you that this book looks exciting. This book is a 25th Aniversary Edition and has been published in 35 foreign languages. I have seen "What the &%^&# Do We Know" and I have to tell you that I fell for it hook, line and sinker. I believe that we are responsible for our destiny and I do believe that things happen for a reason and that we are creating our reality every minute of the day. I feel that this book will go hand in hand quite lovely with the effects of "What the *&*^&% Do We Know". You can find the documentary on Netflix. If you haven't seen it, it might just change your life. I've visualized some good things into my life. I've got the amazing husband and the beautiful son and I'm happy and I'm getting what I want emotionally and sexually and lovingly. What I would like is financial comfort and what I would love is just one more little baby. I have empty arms that need to hold a baby, cuddling up to me in the middle of the night and depending on me for all of it's needs. I'm not ready to give up that hope. So, I am hoping with the education I was taught by watching "What the (*&(^&^) do we know" and the inspiration I might gain from reading "Creative Visualization" I might actually find a place where I am not wanting so much and living more in a "filled with inner peace" sort of way. So, in closing, I have made a decision that I will tell my story about what happened to us with Sophia. Everyone knows a very light version of what went down but I want to share what happened in detail. I need to get it out of me and onto paper. So, stay tuned if you are interested and if not, skip over it. That's on the next entry. For now, must wash clothes, sweep, mop, make beds, have periods, carry babies, make money, make love and such. Love to all.

We Survived!!!!!! And check out Patti Smith!

Joel and I have now, officially, lived through what may have been the most stressful week of our lives and we came out of it with just a few scratches. We are a bit beat up and "the Jake" has a cold and I have discovered Coors Light, but it's all o.k. (Joel isn't talking to me about the Coors Light). The 3-day-shoot for me coinciding with Joel's catering, was a series of ships passing through the day and night. I would get up at 4:30am and go to work, Joel would take Jake to school at 7:30am, race to the kitchen cook and deliver, go home, get Jake and hang with him until I got home, we would drink a beer together, he would go back to the kitchen and prep until midnight, come home and go to bed. While he was gone I would wrangle the little spitfire into a bath and bed and try to pick up the house. Argh. I am spent, done, beat and Joel had to get up and do it all over again today for another catering. God, I hope he lives through it. "The Jake" was so stressed by Thursday that we asked Uncle Rol to watch him on Friday. It was so beautiful and they seemed to work out just fine. Oh, if Rol could just be his nanny, it would be perfect. Anyway, recovering now. What's next? I DON'T KNOW. Joel, my superstar, is going to save the world with his food. I love it. He's a fucking rockstar of the catering world. I love him. How lucky am I to have found him. ONWARD. I got my latest subscription of The Sun and there is a fucking amazing interview with Patti Smith. Check it out by clicking on the title of this blog entry. If you don't know who she is or never bothered, get to know her. She's the original female rocker poet and she's a mom too. She's speaking about the atrocities of this fucked war we complacently sit by and let happen. The quote that rocked me to the core was "Once you become a mother, every child becomes your concern". This was so real, and true. How, as parents, we can sit by passively knowing that other mothers and fathers are watching thier children be blown to bits by bombs and guns that our tax dollars pay for makes me SICK. I'm done and I told Joel that we had to make a decision about where we stand. Then I realized that it was a personal decision and in many ways I couldn't convince him to do anything until he's ready. You can act for the war, against the war, or remain in some neutral cow stance gazing towards that not so distant middle ground that allows you to pretend that it really isn't happening because it's not in our backyard, but it will be soon enough. Another thing she mentions in the article moved me because of it's unaccepted truth. I quote, "I remember that when Jimmy Carter was president, he actually inspired me. He asked the American people to sacrifice. He asked us to bring down our thermostats, to use less energy, to buy fewer material things. He asked us to strip away a lot of what we didn't need and in that way to help our environment. He also asked us to develop ourselves spiritually and mentally". Jimmy Carter is truly the only real, good, honorable, active president that I can recall in my lifetime. I believe people ridiculed him because he was ahead of his time. Even today, 2005, he is so far in the future. By the time this country is ready for a president like Carter, it will be too fucking late. Clinton stuck a cigar up Monica's twat and Reagan, Bush and little Bush have depleted all of our resources and drained our public assistance programs in order to blow up other people's countries. What about we the people. What our we doing for the great U.S. of A. Anyway, I could go on forever. I'm drained and often disgusted by my association with this country, but also thankful for the freedom's that I have been given merely by being born on this continent. Life is a catch-22. So, I am going to go work on a compost pile, grow my own veggies, rip up old clothes and make new ones and take old furniture and refurbish it. I'm gonna ride my bike instead of driving my car, do some yoga and get some love for my fellow man through some sort of spiritual force. AND, I am going to put a sign in my yard that says "American's for PEACE". And maybe, I'll make a difference. God, it's so hard to freely state your opinion when you are simultaneously trying to save your 3-year-old's life.

Ahhhhhhh

I went to drop Jake at school again today leaving a hole in my heart when I left him ( I wonder if anyone noticed) and my stomach in complete knots. Where was I going to day Miss Jobless, well to interview a new school. Do I feel better about it, well yes in many ways other than the fact that it is pretty big, but there are great things about it. It's all a group of kids that are the same age so I know my little precious urchin won't be getting the shit kicked out of him by the school age kids he is grouped with regularly at the undisclosed current school. All said, on August 15th Jake starts at a new school and I have to love it damnit.

How Could I

I just dropped off Jake at the not to be mentioned so-called "pre-school" and once again I am ill. I give up trying to give these guys a 2nd chance over and over. It really works for us in so many ways but I seriously believe that we have to give up our selfish time in the afternoon of biking and such and bite the bullet for a more formalized pre-school. When he goes to elementary school he will be going the same hours as these pre-schools. Right now he is in some sort of daycare that calls itself a pre-school. Damnit. He's just too precious to do this to. It was such chaos that I considered bringing him back home. Then things settled down some and I was able to leave him feeling like he would be o.k. Why, so I can come back here and worry about him on my blog. Yesterday turned out o.k. in the end. I went to Shannons and all 3 boys played like crazy while we lolled around in chairs talking about all the things we should be doing and laughing at the French who she said totally ingore thier children (according to one French she knows, I don't believe it though). Jake fell asleep on the couch naked at 8:30 and woke in the middle of the night to crawl into our bed. While he was asleep on the couch we finally scored some much needed alone time which was very, very, very, berry delicious and nice. Well, I have an appointment with another program on Wednesday at 9am so switching schools it may be. I've been talking about it ever since he started here at this unbelievably convenient school. OH, in closing, I happened to get a glance at a fax at the school being the nosy bee I can be and saw that they were notifying directors of pool safety as there have been some drownings at the pool where they have classes. Ha. I had decided long ago that Jake was not taking classes unless I was there so atleast I don't have to worry about that. Dear God. I'm fearful.

Check this site out

Don't look at my desk, check out this cool site. I have a ton of paperwork to tend to but can't stand dealing with it. I really want to do 2 hours of yoga, ride my bike for an hour and try out the sewing machine. I'm a non-crafting crafter. Oh, the dreams I have, they would make your mind spin. Check out the above link for really cool things you can get made by other people who are doing what I ought to be doing. Very one-of-a-kind for the one-of-a-kind mama with a price that is reasonable. Off to do yoga.

Cool Shit

If you read this you need to check her out. She's cool.

Pain in the Ass

I wanted to write this really beautiful entry with a cute picture of Jake painting at SEVEN O'CLOCK ON A SUNDAY MORNING. I really was trying to make it a beautiful experience. BUT. The camera battery was dead so I started charging it then when I got my computer out I totally got distracted by my resume and started working on it then everything went right back to what it has been since 10pm last night. Jake whining and trying to get attention. I'm not sure what is up but he didn't want to go to sleep last night and he doesn't want to wear a diaper to sleep, which makes perfect sense, but he then proceeded to pee all over his mat, which is fine, but he fought me on the mat too, and, I explained that he was going to pee all over the bed, and he did pee on my pillow, which sucked. I'm visualizing a time when he definitely moves out of the family bed. I'm excited. I'm ready. I'm over it. So, now it's 8:38am and he's watching Thomas and the house is a wreck and I'm feeling like a wreck and I think we are just going to get dressed, get tacos and go to the park. Why not. What do we have to lose, maybe I will wear him out and I can get some yoga done. So, it's not the best morning but we will try to make the best of it.

A Day in the Hill Country

How can you not find this fella adorable. As I watch him grow up into a little man I am truly astounded at the individual he is becoming. He is not just my little boy anymore, but a young man with thoughts and opinions. He has recently become a frustrated artist. Painting daily he melds all the colors together announcing his image and filling it with shape and texture. I quickly swipe them away and hang them up on a bit of yarn with a clothesline clip to dry. He explained to me that he had no need to keep them and wanted them thrown in the trash. My little frustrated artist. How sad to see him inherit that trait. This picture reflects a day IvyAnt and I took him to the flower stand out near Dripping Springs. He met a dog out there and quickly became his friend. We brought beautiful flowers and herbs home and Jake attended to the flowers like the true sensitive soul that he is.

Another day rolls on

Another day, another day, what will I accomplish today. The hardest time I have is justifying my existence when I am not earning money. My only options are to clean house. That always makes me feel like I am earning my keep. I look around at all these people who are "writers". What does that mean. What does it take to be a "writer"? Am I a writer because I am writing this. Last night I took a long look at my poetry and I questioned. Questioned why it is that angst is the impetus for my poetry. Hatred or anger towards someone conjures up the energy to write a poem. So, I have to learn to observe and write. Life doesn't have to be filled with hate in order to create good poems. So, today I will sit down and conjure a thought, observe a happening, twist a spot. Other than that I guess I'll just go wash the fucking dishes.

Cruising Motherhood

I'm at my desk again sitting and waiting for something to happen. I stayed up late after the boys and did a little research on concussions as Jake came home with a huge bump on his head from school. As always, my blood level reached a boiling point and as predicted, I wanted to go down there and ring all the teacher's little necks. This motherhood thing can be so crazy, exhausting, daunting, frightening, overwhelming, you choose the word. I'm so scared. I pay people money to care for my son and I get back a damaged little boy. This time it's a bump, what will happen next. I want to keep him home with me and not let anyone touch him. How will I ever let him go out into the world, the big, real, scary place where people drive selfishly, girls break your heart, guys beat the shit out of you, and governments draft you. God. god. goooood god almighty. What's a mother to do. I'm doing my normal cruising through websites last night and I find a blog . . . http://postsecret.blogspot.com/. It obviously made me ponder, what is my secret? Today, it's the terrifying thought of having another child. It terrifies me to try, and if I am successful, it terrifies me to look after them. To save them everyday from the world knowing full well that I am now, officially, an over-protective mother.

And the fun begins

Well I'm in my 2nd week of unemployment, the days are getting hot and humid and Joel is still working as hard as ever. What this means for me is that I must absolutely get my ass in gear and not only start looking for work but also become the great creator that I so intend to be. Everyday passes and I relish in the fact that I simply don't have to do anything if I don't want. I am truly blown away because I feel like this is too good to be true. I feel wierd dropping Jake off at school and having nothing to do but think. And god can I think. How many ideas can pour through a brain in one day. Plenty. So here is what's next on the agenda. I am going to learn how to sew and while I'm doing that I think I'll start a little newsletter. One for parents about all the cool kid shit they can do. Yeah that's it. And while I'm at it I'm going to interview my friend Shannon on her cakes and get the article printed at Austinmama. I've got to go call her now. Signing off.

Starting Anew

Maybe today will be the 1st day of the rest of my life. Six weeks and 2 days after the birth and death of Sophia I am trying to resume life in a whole new fashion. Recapturing those things that have been given to me before that I scoffed at, I am starting again in my old career of film production. It feels very normal but I have lost the anger that accompanied every shoot. I appreciate the time available and the money seems great after what I've worked for in the last 5 years. $8.00 to $10.00 dollars an hour is damned humiliating and makes me constantly question the bachelor's degree I so desperately pursued and attained and am still paying for and will always pay until I die, I swear. Nonetheless. I am inspired now to spend my time away from production with Jake, writing, sewing and learning everything there is to know about yoga. A physical science I am convinced will assist in our next and necessary stage of evolution. Maybe it's crazy but it just makes sense. Yoga brings your mind and body in alignment with goodness. With that all said, just wanted to get some words on a page. Somewhere.

subject: congrats.

I just wanted to write and say congratulations.  My e-mail is redtruckbetty@hotmail.com.  If you ever need any advice, help, chat session about the ongoing birth and child process, I will be glad to offer my advice.  Are you ready for your whole life to change?  Be prepared to experience an emotion you have never, ever experienced before.  It's like falling-in-love times 1,000,000.  PAIN.  Will seem normal.  And  . . .one look in thier eyes is some sort of strange form of emotional orgasm.  BIG.  With that said. . . I am always here to provide advice and experience.  Just wanted to provide my ten cents worth of word.  WORD.  Joanna

The Sound of Music

Music. How lucky of a species are we to be gifted with something so beautiful. Something that is able to reach into our heart, soul and mind and pluck away at memories, not only recalling but ever constantly creating. There is a library of music ranging from Emmylou Harris to a crazy punk rock band named Sexy Finger Champs that marks my life with moments that come alive at the very strike of the 1st chord. I certainly can't forget Cat Stevens from childhood along with Creedence Clearwater, The Jackson Five, The Pointer Sisters, Loretta Lynn and the original Hank Williams. I was fortunate to be raised with an open mind to the diversity of music but I really hadn't seen much until I met Joel. A musician who was raised by four brothers and an amazing father all seeped in the cultural diversity of music. Our vast CD library rambles through Jazz, Blues, Latin, Country, Bluegrass, Soul, Cajun, Classical and so many variations of rock I couldn't begin to sub-divide. As I sit here on a Monday evening, Valentine's no less, listening to Emmylou, I remember the 1st time this album penetrated my life. Marking me in a way so significant I knew that forever this album would represent a turning point, a time when I shed a skin and walked in a new light, an awakening. I was in my early 30's working on a music video, Brooks & Dunn, down in the bottom of Texas, a place called LaJitas. I was staying in a hotel with a tile porch looking out toward the Old Mexico border. The job was hard as hell and rest was cherished. I sat out on that cool porch one evening as the sun set on a very dry and hot day. The jambox was playing that Emmylou CD and I was pondering my life. I was in a marriage that just wasn't working. It wasn't bad. We loved each other and there was no serious pain inflicted other than a few random infidelities that had created a resolution of apathy through distrust. The emotional injuries had scarred over and there was no chance of any new wounds occurring or old ones reopening. This old heart had a shut door, sealed up with the key thrown away. A casual friendship with obligatory sex was all that was left. I had been in it for 14 years starting at 18. Often times I felt most like a 17-year-old looking out a window, wondering how I had gotten in this old car that was my life. Worse, I didn't know how to get off, get out, or get the fucking car to stop. These were my reflections as I sat on that cool, LaJitas porch, sucking down a Lone Star beer. I was done. I had to figure out how to get out and start to live again, me, the juvenile 17-year-old Joanna who had been left behind. As Emmylou played a backdrop to my thoughts, I felt my spirit lifting, I would leave, I was leaving, I'd made up my mind. I would figure out a way to eject myself from this passionless marriage at whatever cost. And, I did. It took awhile, and it hurt, but I left and I was fine, am fine, and he's fine. I'm so glad I found a way because the best of life was still waiting for me to find the courage to let that 17-year-old out to play and grow up and become completely who I needed to be. The awesome part was I found someone to play with. It took a few years, but we found each other, right in the other's back pocket. Someone I'd known all along but never expected. Funny how your soulmate can be right there across a bar, a friend you run into at the store or the park, someone you really like as a person, respect as a human. Joel was that someone who would want to be 17 forever but still know how to play grown-up when it was necessary. So here it is, almost a decade later, our little boy Jake is 3 and there is another on the way. It's Valentine's and Emmylou is on the stereo and Jake is playing beside me and even though Joel and I are not together this evening because of his crazy catering job, I know with all the assurance that I know that the Sun will rise tomorrow, this is the love that lasts forever, filled with solidity and trust and respect. I will always be surrounded by encompassing love, wonderful music and profound happiness for eternity. All the good things in our lives stick with us, in our hearts and souls and minds, like a really good soundtrack running through our days.

Thumper

The hardest thing about pregnancy, for me, is the 1st 3 months. Everyday I wake up, feeling generally o.k., but as soon as I am moving around I can't imagine eating, but desperately need to. As I begin to ingest I get that horrible feeling of nausea and for hours after my mouth tastes like I just ate grease. This goes on all day long as well as a never-ending feeling of exhaustion. I begin to think it will never end, and in the case of my current 2nd pregnancy, I must admit, it hasn't ended, completely. It is getting better. Now, somewhere in the proximity of 18 weeks (I don't know how to keep up with these weeks), I can do chores and errands after work, eat regular meals (almost) and smile (something I had a very hard time doing for awhile). Recently, within the last 3 weeks, I have started feeling alot of knocks on my uterine wall. What I am saying is I think the little monkey is trying to communicate through telegraph. I feel the bumps, I don't know what they mean. It goes on all day, all night, and it's fine by me. Where before this was some strange entity that was torturing me for a reason I did not know, now it is my little buddy, reminding me she or he is still there so please don't eat so much chocolate and drink so much tea and stop with the fries please. So, at 40, becoming a 2-time mama isn't so bad. I'm looking forward to the way that love blossoms and grows from love. Being an only child, I was afraid that there wouldn't be enough love, that love somehow stretched thin and ran out. How was I to know any different. I had belonged to a small community of family and though there was plenty of love there, it had really never had its limits tested. Now, I see, there is room for another, Jake will love his little sibling and I will love Jake and mine and Joel's love grows ever stronger and I still love my poochies, Red and Gus, more than ever. Heck, maybe we will get a few more dogs and a couple of cats. But, for me, this body is done stretching for now.

Having a Baby.

Today I will work on how to have a baby with no maternity coverage. Last baby was easy when it all came down to it. After interviewing a certified nurse mid-wife clinic that I loved, they sent me to Medicade, which somehow I immediately qualified for because I was unmarried (though I did have a live-in father of baby) and unemployed (though I did get a job). Medicade is a wonderful assistant to the whole prenatal and delivery care process. This time won't be as easy and now with Austin excluding mid-wives from the hospitals it is making it even more difficult. I am sure it will all work out. It always does.

During Pregnancy

In this pregnancy, I know my indulgences. I cannot remember my first pregnancy. There is a blackout that occurs during delivery. Anything that happened in the 40 weeks previous is entirely wiped out. In this pregnancy, it is chocolate and coffee. I have no desire for the glasses of wine, or pints of beer that have entertained me through most of my life (aside from the first 14 years when I didn't drink). Thank god for the holidays, you can pick up a small box of candy with 4 pieces that calms my tummy for the day. I get my one cup of java in the morning that once again calms my tummy for the morning. This cup helps me digest the breakfast I can barely swallow down even though I am in my 5th month and everything should be better by now. Hilariously, though I fought it completely, I am sure that only a girl could be doing this to me. I am now convinced I am carrying a little girl, though I had hoped for another (easy) boy. Now, with that intuitive knowledge of a childbearing mama, I have great plans for this little girl. She will take ballet, jazz, tap and modern dance, I will have her doing yoga with me every morning. I will help her to become everything I never have and drive her completely crazy, just like my mom did, does to me. I have become so excited to have someone to dish about shopping, buy fashion mags, go to the beach with, I am overwhelmed. In 6 weeks when I get my ultrasound and find out it's a boy I'll be so deflated, me, the one who fought so hard the concept of a little girl coming into my life. Silly.

Tired of It.

What are we supposed to do when you just can't win the financial war. I sit here feeling a 18 week baby kicking at my belly while my 3 year old hangs out in the living room. Just been stomach kicked by my mom telling me I just don't know how to handle my finances. I work, my husband works, we try to pay the bills, but they just keep getting bigger. I love my school loan the most. It's done me tons of good. I guess the natural progression of things would be that right out of college I would have landed me a little starter job that by now, 14 years later would be fully paying off with a good 70,000 or so. Didn't happen that way.