waste not want not.

Good Morning, Okay so....I spoke to Bob the other day and he said with condemnation and pity in his best fake, forced voice - "your blogs make you look crazy - you say one thing one day and something contradictory the next." I responded that I write what I feel, and that changes like people who wear them, change their panties. If one day I say I won't smoke and the next day I admit I do, or one day I say fuck him and the next day I admit that I miss him - well this makes me a lunatic and all of you reading feel pity for the woman who just cannot keep it consistent. Well....I said two days ago I was not going to blog....I was going to keep my voice quiet for a while and leave my key tapping to the tell all novel I am writing about this past year. BUT.....Yes Bob, here she goes again sober from having dropped her kids off at school (throat clear) here I am blogging......Mary said - write....I don't care what you write, I don't care what you say, I don't care what you do with it - JUST WRITE, right now in this brain space you are in, at war with yourself and the outside world - WRITE. So Bob, yes...Have your informant in Texas let you know I am at it again, looking consistently inconsistent in TRUTH. Truth is, my not so stable or truthful friend, I am consistent and wide the fuck open. You threaten police on facebook and people laugh at you behind your back while I blog and people email me, please don't go - "you say all the things I don't have the balls to say, you make me laugh and make me cry and make me laugh again." So fuck you and your whiskey induced haze of unreality and bullshit, FUCK YOU and your finger pointing. TURN THAT FINGER ROUND CAUSE YOU'RE THE ONE BRINGING YOU DOWN. Truth is.....You don't care and really, neither does anyone else. You look good, but that is about it and when your liver fails and you turn yellow, you better hope the latest conquest is half in the bag herself so that you still appear somewhat appealing. WOW - that felt good. I do love you underneath, really I do. You MAKE IT SO HARD. And so, I cannot let THIS DAY go by without laying my words down. It is, yet again, September 11th. If you are a reader of mine you probably read last years entry - what was that you said Bob "she's my ambassador of courage?" HAHAHAHAHAHA - to those of you who give a shit about something outside yourself and complimented that blog post - well, that means something....That blog took it's toll to write in the five parts it took for me to get it all out - I read it sometimes myself to remind me of who I am when stupid people tell me that I suck and I almost believe them. Ha, not so much. This morning I began my day screaming at my kids who would not get out of bed. Truth is, I didn't want them too either.....they were both (the wee ones) in my bed and it was hilarity to just sit and watch them with my steaming cup of coffee in hand. I could have done it all day. Emma with her thousand little braids sticking up, all about the pillow like a cute Medusa and Matt at the other end, head by her feet which continually kicked him in the face and he swung at the air asleep, cursing her and whoever else he imagined might be assaulting him. The crisp Autumn morning air streamed in through the open windows pushing the steam from my mug about my face giving off the effect of a facial, my pores opening up so that all the details of the moments saturated into my skin. I had to scream eventually, the gentle rousing did little to wake the Prince and Princess from their slumber. When I finally turned on the light in the kitchen, the first thing I saw was a copy of the new DMB album in Kevin's handwriting on the table. AWAY FROM THE WORLD. I smiled knowing that at midnight, my two eldest were crowded together by Papa's desk in the glow of my laptop light, salivating like hungry animals circling their prey. I ask you Bob, what have your kids learned from you???? Oh wait - you're the Rooster who does runs his mouth in the peace and quiet and fuck a lot of hens.....HAHAHAHAHA. My kids have learned to be artists, and to appreciate music and words,and the pursuit of peace and the joy that comes in overcoming adversity. So go drink that back.... And yes, Kevin did hit me Bob - wait til your three get good and pissed off for your failures - oh wait, you won't admit them because you learned from the best, I forgot. But I digress in negativity that won't evolve so..... I loved imaging my two grown men buying the CD on itunes. I loved knowing that all the years of music and concerts and dancing has made an impression on their souls and they crave it just like their Momma. I made lunches and bitched about aggressively brushing teeth, not just gently exfoliating the plaque and tartar while eyes rolled and kids tuned out. We walked outside to Autumn. A cool morning that made my nipples stand up, which at this age is a feat that is noteworthy. I thought, Oh yeah - bring on the death Season, let me see the colors and of every leafs life, yes please. Then I looked up to the blue sky and thought, this is what that day looked like..... I said it to the kids as we got in the car. "this is exactly what that day felt like, exactly - the sky was just this blue, the sun just this bright" I put in Dave, on his release date morning, September 11th, eleven years later and I thought to myself - I see what others miss, because I am always looking at the fine details of my fabric. I don't want to miss a thing - even the hard shit. The hard shit after all is what makes the good shit so good. Then I adjusted my mirrors and took a good look at the hard shit turned the really good shit in the eyes of my son, the one they told me would die - But I knew that even if he did it should be in my arms where he belonged, so fuck sea weed sticks and giving up..... I could smell his morning dragon breath in the trucks close quarters and smiled to myself, knowing the alternative would have killed me. Of course my inquisitive cookie cutter from the back seat began to ask questions about that day as any girl of mine would. She was upset last night because she heard in a political commercial that under Mitt Romneys presidency, cancer patients would not receive their treatments and this sent her into a tail spin of worry for Aunt Pammy who she loves with all her heart. My daughter makes me PROUD in her need to understand everything...... She asked "why Mommy, why would terrorists do that?" Oh baby......why? Humph. Why do people terrorize each other, those they claim to love? Terrorize themselves, is the more pertinent question I am currently plagued with....But not what she was asking.... I explained it all to her the best I could. I think I told her that extreme views, equal extreme measures and unfortunately we live in a world where middle ground has been destroyed, humanity has become desperate. I explained in a way she could understand. She was broken hearted that thousands of people died, I told her that all she could do to remedy that broken feeling was to be the best person she could be - to make the most of her life and to do her best to contribute and give, leave behind her legacy of a life which met it's potential. Eat that Rooster who protects his chickies. And Dave sings BELLY BELLY NICE and my dancer hips groove. She asked, "Momma what were you doing that day?" I told her, I was wanting to hold the world in my arms with the same confidence that I held Matthew in my swollen womb. She looked at me like I was too special for the world. She gets me and that is my greatest joy. I dropped her at school first, we stood in the hallway, a big and a little, and made out like we may never see each other again, the way lovers kiss at the airport gate..... I told her, "work hard my love - remember meet your potential for all those who were lost" she smiled at me with my own smile as she walked her sassy self down the hallway, her wavy hair lifting off her shoulder as she whipped her head round to see my smile, her smile, chasing her down the space that separated us, with all the obsession and adoration that should always be on the forefront of my mind - not whiskey bottles and wanna be farms. Hahahahahahaha Momma is begging for Mercy - will we over come this, have we come to far to turn it around? No Baby, never too far to overcome this. NEVER. Legacy. The bonus track on Dave's new CD is from the show that I took the kids to this summer....I love that as I listen to it right now, I can see us, see me and my kids dancing barefoot in the grass, Emma on Brian's shoulders her arms up to the stars of the night sky, Matthew in front of me, my arms around his chest and Kevin smiling to my left as though the music was his magic carpet and he was driving us up and out of it all into where we ought to be. Legacy. Oh God life is so hard. It is so FUCKING HARD and so PAINFUL, so MYSTERIOUS and horses always pull the cart - there is no other way. People like me want to make sense of it, understand the extremes, take the fine grain sand paper and smooth the sharp edge off the hurt, cry the tears to bleed the well dry, blood run out sacrificially - I appear crazy Bob? Okay WHAT the FUCK EVER from your anesthetic misery laying in the road after a fifth rambling on about crazy bitches and cunts. I AM NOT NUMB and WILL NEVER BE. The people who lost their lives on SEPTEMBER 11th would not want that for me and I know that I was given a vacant space for my son to fill because there is a GIVE and take. My Nana told me so and I know she has a direct line cause she always did. That is precisely why she found her way out from the bottom of the bottle. Humph again. So on this day I let it all pour out because I CAN. Because I SHOULD. Hilarity, Bob just called to tell me how much I suck and that I should go back to writing my psycho blogs that nobody cares about.... In nobody, he means himself and his world, he is filling the boots that I couldn't drag an inch in forward motion. I SAY NO TRUER WORDS WERE EVER SPOKEN, print that and put it in your box little boy. Deep breath, my point is this. I am here on September 11th to say that I will never forget. Not only the acts of terrorism that shocked our Nation, but also the daily acts of terrorism that we unleash on each other and ourselves. I would never say that the lives lost on that day were minor details - God no. I will say that the major details start with us as individuals, in our personal willingness to accept responsibility for our lives - what we take selfishly and what we contribute selflessly. September 11th should be in the consciousness of our everyday minds not just once a year. As I got out of the truck to drop Matt at school, the outside loud speaker was the principal addressing the students. He was speaking about Patriotism. We stopped and stood silent as we listened collectively - a body of children and adults in one place. He asked us to join him in a moment of silence. I stood next to my miracle and cried gently from behind my sunglasses which I should have taken off out of respect, but couldn't find the courage to face the light for fear I would give myself over to it and collapse in Matthew's arms with gratefulness. He doesn't yet understand he is my God proof in the flesh, does not yet know that he was a not going to be, that WAS, IS.... He knows he has a special head, but does not yet know what that has meant to/for my special head..... It was right about now that I realized our Nation was under attack. Eleven long years ago. Sigh, I wish I didn't feel that we are the biggest part of a problem that still exists. The day is a beautiful day. Every day is met with the potentiality of beauty. I am fighting to see that, fighting to teach that to my children, even though some days are unbearable for me to get through myself. A minute to minute basis with just the end of the day as the only goal I think I can attain - that and the ability to begin again. I want the cart to go first so that I know, but Dave just told me it won't ever work that way.... I believe everything you say Dave and yes we are too damn old to want to be young again..... If we were, we wouldn't have all this growth under out belts. Brian wants french toast, he is twenty two whining at his Mommy like he is four. I hope that never ever stops. No matter what, I hope I am always Mommy the master of french toast. Legacy. I pray for us as humans that we stop hurting ourselves and each other. That some way we can stop pointing partisan fingers, rulers against rulers, God's against God's, Fathers against Mothers. Mothers against Fathers. Friends against friends. I am a complex recipe of comfort food. I know exactly what I am. I know what this day is. Who my children are. My daughter has blue nails today like this same exact September 11th sky. I did not know her then, she was not even a thought - merely a dream. I dream big and I dream that she will see humanity turn around - and if not, the legacy of her Mother's heart will be enough to sustain her identical heartbreak. Me and the soundtrack of my dreams, thanks to Dave and her memories of my laugh and dancing hips under the starry nights of her every day childhood. I am nostalgic as fuck today - like everyday. Brian made me laugh just now and for that, I feel celebratory. My kids are insane just like me, it's fucking awesome. AWESOME. Never Forget......Anything. I love you all, even you Bob who thinks my words are a waste of letters. SO NOT A WASTE.