Clearing the Cave?

I’ve been trying to wish a dear friend Happy New year for a few weeks now. She has four kids, is run off her feet with her full time job. I am very lax at phone calls so it’s been difficult to contact her. I hate leaving messages when it’s just a casual call. Today we finally spoke; it felt like old home week. Everything changes, yet nothing changes. We are both fifty now, in mental pause together. No one fore warned us of the all the ramifications of the flow, peppered with haranguing horrible moans!

My brother has taken to asking friends in midst of marital difficulties, if they could handle their wives crabbiness hopped up a few notches, warning them of impending menopause. Apparently men do talk about our menopause. Of course he has no worries there, in his mid forties with a wife just over thirty. Rumor has it men he works with complain about their partially bitchy wives becoming menopausal monsters. Go figure. In the best part of my marriage I used to ask myself could I retire with this guy, the answer was always an emphatic NO. I stayed with him for years after that too. Silly me, what was I thinking! Now I hear my brother gage a woman’s worth on whether you could handle her personality through menopause.

I digress…my friend is fed up with everything. My very docile friend would never dare dismiss the most ignorant sots as they bored her with nonsense. Instead she sat quietly, smile on her face, tolerating every nuance of bullshit. Today, in the throws of menopause, she’s afraid of her frantic tirades. The submissive nature of the woman has aborted her body, I ask myself, is this natures way, to clear the cave? When a beautiful woman with a loving soul turns verbally toxic?

Every complaint she has is absolutely justified. Is it that she has been sitting on injustice for too many years? Finally the feelings have surfaced? Is it time for us to reclaim our souls? What could be nature’s possible use of this idiotic time, of odd sleeping patterns, out of control flow, intolerance, and verbal diatribes?

More arty than organized!

Here is my makeup drawer after last weeks cleaning rampage. I got rid of a huge bag of makeup, I don’t buy it, Pepper keeps shuffling her cast offs to me. I keep thinking I could use that huge bag pf makeup and nail polish for an art project….could I? Pfffff I doubt it….who knows? Lies all lies I tell myself. I need to get real!

Bear with me; I was forced to change my blog to the new version. I’m so glad I did, but I am still flailing around trying to find what suits me best. I only wish they had better fonts.


Its official, I received an dork's newsletter in my email, from a KingDork website in Victoria B.C. they had all my names on it, Sherrie, giggles, Happytiler, spelt perfectly, so I suspect someone has figured out I’m a dork. I find I’ve become more of a recluse than a dork lately. Although I do admit to being cooler in my youth, and more of a dork now. Probably recluse and dork go hand in hand, down the road of cyber heaven.

I just find myself wanting to sort my house and life out. Sometimes you need time alone to figure it all out. Artistic endeavors seem to take time alone too. Right now, happiness for me, is being alone. I chat with the kids on a daily basis, work on some writing, and have many projects I’d like to tackle. Including more purging, I just find car problems and annoyances as such, a huge pain in the ass.

My mother’s words still echo in my ear, “when you’re in your twenties and thirties you really want nice things, as you get older you want less, so you start to disperse of items.” When I look around my house, I wonder, WHERE THE F#%@ DID ALL THE STUFF COME FROM!


Don’t get me wrong, I love the ambience of beautiful things, but they are exhausting to maintain. I really want more simplicity than I have. I’m in the “getting rid of STUFF phase” while my almost twenty-one year old is bringing in more junk, okay stuff. At Christmas she saw dishes she wanted, so they are stored, guess where? My spare room! That girl has difficulty parting with anything, and she plans to live with me forever, so maybe one day she will break out the dishes. Today out of blue, she read me her list of goals, on her list is to disperse of two garbage bags of things. Phew……( Sherrie wipes brow) now we don’t have to have that talk! We’re on the same page, thank goodness!

So here I sit, procrastinating, computer loft in total disarray, awaiting my return of sorting out random papers. I despise any paper sorting, usually dedicate a few days here and there to sort bills into perfect little piles, shredder in hand. That's a separate job from this, I need one of those people to stand over me with a big stick and give me permission to throw things away I’ve had since the seventies. No I don’t plan on using them. As soon as I purge something old, the kids get a hankering for it. I’m no better because, I keep fooling myself into thinking I might need it for a project…. What’s a woman to do? I like things clean and tidy!

Sunday Scribblings " Chronicles Change"

Sunday Scribbling Chronicles

Change

Eight months ago Bryan was lured, by a friend, into a new job with the promise of a pleasant working environment, and higher wages. He relinquished his solid full time daily hours of seven to three shifts, as a prep cook, at a corporate restaurant, to a less secure position. Bryan stepped into the shoes of their main prep guy. It wasn’t long until he realized that the majority of the long term employees had bolted for new jobs at other restaurants down the road.

My intuition was in high gear, feeling this restaurant, serving the best prime rib in town for over twenty years, could be in dire straights. Sure enough my favorite restaurant where I always received a free birthday dinner was sold, and closed its doors January first. Even though Bryan suspected the demise, he loyally trudged through until the end.

This last month he has been working diligently on music, starting early in the morning until almost dinner, taking only a few breaks in between. More than he had at the restaurants, where he could be known to work a full eight hours with out so much as a bathroom break.

I pride myself in shopping locally to support small business. I despise the big superstore concept, where you need a pair of skates to locate the washroom in order to beat the call of nature. Large economy stores aren’t always convenient; there are too many distractions, temptations and line ups! Save Costco, where I take care of waste management before I go, cart along my entourage and stick to my list. I’ll admit I am a cherry picker, known to buy many things on sale. If I need a gallon of milk though, I don’t hesitate to pay a few cents more to shop local, rather than spend it on gas to drive up the road.

For seven years we have frequented our local video store. We prefer them, to the large conglomerate, with the big line-ups, we have everything, keep it as late as you want, don’t know your name attitude! At our local store, a six minute walk from our house, we’re known as Sherrie, Pepper, Bryan, or 606. They know our voices on the phone, they think about us when they’re viewing movies, knowing exactly the ones we’ll enjoy.

There is a lovely camaraderie, we have taken them baked cookies, given one of the kids some of our fresh pizza, they’d wave our rare, tardy returns. When we’ve called ahead to say we’d be late returning the movie, they offer to let us keep it a few hours later free of charge. The family owned business, is run by the parents, their kids and a few long time employees, who always greet us with affection. We’re very loyal patrons never having deviated from them, even when we know the corporate store has the movie we want. We wait until it’s available.

Friday night after picking some movies for the weekend, Pepper asked them blatantly if they were closing. Surprised at her out burst, they quickly shushed her. When she returned to the car I asked her why she thought that, she told me it was just intuition. I asked her to elaborate. Her intuition sparked because they were selling off all the Ben and Jerry’s ice cream at half price. Last week they fibbed and told her it was because ice cream doesn’t sell well in winter. Unfortunately her intuition didn’t deceive her; today they’re closing the store. We were absolutely shocked to hear of their termination, totally unaware until this Friday. The owners are boxing everything up to sell as a video store in a box. That’s all we’re privy to, covertly shared by a young employee we all adore. It’s truly a sad day; life is changing as we knew it. Two of our favorite family owned businesses are gone, what’s next?

Poetry Thursday " Cropped Content"

I love every aspect of words, the combination, compilation, connecting to converse with. Not only do I love the rhyme, reason, and resilience of poetry, I adore the passion, power and pontification of poetry. So for Poetry Thursday I’ve written a poem expressing my allure to poetry.

Cropped Content

Contained, condensed conversations
Reckoned revelations revealed
Orations organized opulently
Passionate, perspective pondered
Potent potential purified
Exercised excellence elevated
Dedicated Dialog diversified

Compelling correlations captivate
Overt omnipotent ovation
Notions navigate naturally
Trepid thoughts transpire
Exemplar expressions escalate
Nebulous negotiated naked
Tribulations translate tenaciously

The Art Express

Pepper found this sweet art site in the Newspaper, saved it, excited to show me. The Art Express is a very trendy idea, consisting of a renovated school bus that arrives at your home, loads in the partiers (age 3-10) who participate in an instructional art project, taking home their work, leaving all the mess behind. The bus seats twelve kids and is two hundred and fifty an hour. Personally I think it's a wonderful idea! Apparently there has been some inquiry about using it for girls night out, unfortunately it is child oriented with bench seats. So Michael Bray and his wife are toying with the idea of starting up a few more buses for women and teens.

Just over twenty dollars an hour per child is not unreasonable, but would definitely limit who could afford the luxury of this bus. No doubt it’s not much different than renting a blow up castle for the day. It’s an hour long session, I wonder just how many kids actually complete their project in that limited time. Yet on the other hand some kids have a shorter attention span. For the most part, I think it’s an innovative idea, fraught with all kinds of room to grow!

Lucky to be Alive!

Settled for a Jeep

For ten years before I had Pepper I drove a silver corvette. When she came along it was impossible to fit a stroller with baby garb in a sports car. I parked the Vet for quite sometime before I relented to sell it! Memories of youth were tied up with the car, now referred to as my disco car. I shake my head in wonder at what the heck the allure was way back then.

Oil Change

I settled on Cherokee jeep with a custom diesel engine, secretly longing for a sportier car. After three months, we had the standard check up! A young mechanic at the dealership forgot to return the plug after the oil change. The car seized five blocks down the road. We were furious to say the least, thankfully the dealers insurance covered it.

The Clutch

If I recall it took eight weeks to get the new eight thousand dollar custom diesel engine from Paris. I was floored when a year later they had to replace the clutch. I was a consciences driver, careful not to ride the clutch; it was later revealed complications from the replacement engine installation caused the clutch to wear unreasonably sooner than expected.

Frost

Two weeks after the clutch was repaired I left for work at six twenty on Saturday morning in late January 1987. It was a clear morning; frost layered the lawns, a deer posed on my neighbor’s acre property. I checked the brakes for black ice on the vacant road in front of the house, as I mired the beauty of the deer. The car halted with ease.

Black Ice

A moment later I continued on my trek to work, maneuvering the back roads to save time. I spotted flashing cars lights ten minutes into my drive. It was a fairly desolate street. Apprehension washed over me. I wondered who or what was up ahead. Before I could finish my thought, I went into an uncontrollable spin. Desperately trying to regain control, I drove against the black ice. The jeep landed in a deep ditch driver side down. Minutes later two long haired young men knocked on the door. In my shock, all I could think was oh great now I’m going to be raped. I shook off the silliness and opened the passenger side door. They pulled me out. My three quarter length winter coat, was covered in mud. In my gall I asked them to retrieve my purse. Realizing later just how nervy that was!

Emergency workers

People from a near by house took me in. Police and ambulance were called immediately. I had tiny abrasions on my hands from the shattered window, not a hair on my solidly sprayed head was out of place. I amused the medics with my witty antics, entertaining them, while they assessed my injuries, asking questions in search of brain trauma. They voiced their amazement that I wasn’t critically hurt or killed instantly.

The attending officer also spun out of control on the same road stopping centimeters away from landing on top of my jeep. The men shook their heads while exchanging perplexities about what a lucky woman I was. Having survived such an ordeal basically unscathed. Save a minor seat belt injury, a few tiny abrasions on my hands and face, which cleared up shortly after.

Officially Totaled

The car was totaled, the officers statement about road conditions insured that I was in a brand new car within a week. It wasn’t a diesel, or the color I wanted. So grateful to be alive, the type or color of the car became irrelevant.

Was that jeep a lemon? Or cursed? Or was it just one of those unfortunate life experiences I needed to endure?

Changed the position of the Baby seat

I was so grateful Pepper was not in the car that morning, as she would have been on a normal week day. From that day forward I placed her infant car seat in the middle of the back bench rather than in the passenger seat beside me!

Sunday Scribblings "True Fantasy"

Dan and I

Such a realist, I knew Sunday Scribbling prompt “Fantasy” would be trouble for me. Unfortunately it spawned too many redundant ideas; so I ended up with this.

About seven years ago I played a pivotal role in a haunted house. A woman having her throat slit several hundred times a night as onlookers sauntered through. It was a school fundraiser. One of the parents loaned his home for the event, preparation took months.
Production included many volunteers to decorate, act and man the crowd during the Halloween season. It was a blast!

Interviewed for a Vancouver news cast, I was asked how it felt to scream so many times in repetition, I told them it was extremely cathartic to scream all night after such an ugly divorce!

Richard, who loaned his home, is known for throwing manic parties of epic proportions. I missed his New Years Party this year with a live band. It’s not likely you ever forget any of his themed soirees. That Halloween turned out particularly exciting. Too bad the Slasher was married… to a woman with my same name!

True Fantasy

Jostled, and giggled,
during each scene.
A grope transpired,
a tickle, a scream.
Some of it acting,
much was not.
Crowd In progression,
mischief he sought.
He killed in succession,
within seconds she’d revive.
Arousal emerged,
she'd never been more alive