Dyl: So can I go fishing with PapaJohn if I weed afterward?
Me: Well, I don’t know; it’ll be pretty hot and I don’t want you to get heat exhaustion.
Emma: What’s heat exhaustion? Does it smell bad? Cos if it does I think I’ve had it several times.

Dyl: You know I’m really allergic to all those weeds…
Me: Yes, that’s why I got you gloves, loratadine, and those white paper mask things.
Dyl: Those paper things are for PUSSIES.
Me: No, Dylan, they’re for your FACE.

There are new posts at ZenSluts (and not just by me) today.  I let the
domain name expire so if it comes up in your sub browser you’ll get an
error message when you click.  If you’d like to read it you can
get there by clicking http://www.xanga.com/ZenSluts .  Here ends
the public service message.

Michael Lutin today:

edited to add:
The WineCritic  (Fodiddley) wrote
today… it seems that wherever we went together people thought we were
a couple.  It never bothered me; I don’t think it bothered
her.  We went to visit my rellies in a nearby resort town and
while we’re both pretty sure that was what they thought… meh, who
cares?  Still I get excellent service at the Russian-Greek
restaurant now when I show up with Brooke.  They’re so very
attentive that I have to do the “look, a deer!” thing and bolt.  I
think they’re happy to see me moving on.  *snerk*

So I drove to pick up the kids this afternoon. I was nearly there when my cell coverage picked up and signalled that I had a message. The message was the pod asking if 5:30 would be a good time for him to drop them at my house. Errrr… I vaguely remember discussing the idea that he might drive all the way over, but that was several weeks ago. The possibility totally slipped my mind. Gawd, I’m such a douche. Memory of a gerbil.

it is so amazingly simple
what I find is indelibly true
walking all of a life in the arc of the circle
one ends up at the starting point: you

PLUS

PLUS

EQUALS

“I’ve always been crazy and the trouble that it’s put me through
I’ve been busted for things that I did, and I didn’t do
I can’t say I’m proud of all of the things that I’ve done
But I can say I’ve never intentionally hurt anyone

I’ve always been different with one foot over the line
Winding up somewhere one step ahead or behind
It ain’t been so easy but I guess I shouldn’t complain
I’ve always been crazy but it’s kept me from going insane”

FODON, if you were here we would so be out kicking ass and running tables (and by running tables I generally mean running the felt…). goddammit. I guess I’d better start an Austin fund…

Waylon stirs me up. I may have to get outa here…

“Pianee rolled blues, I danced holes in my shoes
There weren’t another other way to be
For loveable losers and no ACCOUNT boozers
And honky tonk heroes like me
Hey Hey“

My mother and I had “words” last night, but I felt like I was very high-minded about it. Let’s see, I’ll just write down what I said: (insert swelling music here…) (complete with choreography)

“You don’t own me, I’m not just one of your many toys
You don’t own me, don’t say I can’t go with other boys

And don’t tell me what to do
And don’t tell me what to say
And please, when I go out with you
Don’t put me on display, ’cause

You don’t own me, don’t try to change me in any way
You don’t own me, don’t tie me down ’cause I’d never stay

Oh, I don’t tell you what to say
I don’t tell you what to do
So just let me be myself
That’s all I ask of you

I’m young and I love to be young
I’m free and I love to be free
To live my life the way I want
To say and do whatever I please

A-a-a-nd don’t tell me what to do
Oh-h-h-h don’t tell me what to say
And please, when I go out with you
Don’t put me on display

I don’t tell you what to say
Oh-h-h-h don’t tell you what to do
So just let me be myself
That’s all I ask of you

I’m young and I love to be young
I’m free and I love to be free
To live my life the way I want!
To say and do whatever I please…”

Well, you know, obviously it’s not VERBATIM.

So anyway, that’s all I have to say ABOUT THAT. ***************************

I don’t remember who said this to me when I was a child but it had a profound effect: Only boring people get bored. I remember thinking long and hard about it and deciding that I was never going to be bored, which was just as well because being bored at my house meant getting sent to pull weeds or paint the dining room woodwork.

I guess what this means to me is that I consider it a corallary of “No one makes you feel anything; it’s all you.” No matter what I’m feeling at any given moment I’m entirely free to change it to my satisfaction. Certainly there are times when you need to feel negative emotions and I don’t shirk my intuitions nor do I run away from my anger or sadness. Sometimes those are things you just need to feel, to process. However, I don’t see where boredom has any purpose other than a redirect, a “this isn’t working for me I need to try something else.” At the very least I can think. I can think about the situation that’s boring me and figure out how to change it, or I can recall moments that ARE compelling and let my mind wander happily.

This is just one of the major side benefits of being an Evil Megalomaniac. Well that, and having the mind of a gerbil…

LOOK! A NICKEL!!

the Boy: Geroff me, crackhead!
Me: Don’t call me crackhead; I’m your mother!
the Boy: Whatever, crackhead.

Oy. On some level I am entirely culpable. And all this over a little kiss on the nose.

Last week, or was it the week before (?) I tried to get Brooke to give me a haircut. She said no. She said she thought my hair looked really nice the way it was and she thought I’d be sorry. At that point, I thought, yeah, you’re right: I’m probably too impulsive with these things. okay. But dammit, I just called up Michelle and when she’s done having lunch with her dad I’m heading on over there to get whacked. I want an extreme a-line bob, like above (but brown) with a more shattered look. I have way too much texturizing for that smooth appearance. I think I’ll have her leave some long, disconnected strands in front. I can always cut them off if I decide they don’t look right. Also, I’m sitting here in a silver, plastic cape with color on my roots. It’s the first time I’ve done it to myself and well, so far so good. I get really sick of my white grow out on a nearly black dye job. I’m thinking in the near future I might get a full platinum foil (half out, half in) and grow out my natural lack of pigmentation. I just object to blonde on principle (for me) but it’s worth a try… better than another shave I suppose.

I have some clip in pink and blue chunks… I bet they’ll look even better with this haircut. It’s only fucking hair.

I chaperoned the third grade trip to the farmhouse down the street: goats, sheep, and an alpaca. Blossom the goat took a bite out of my straw handbag. I guess it IS yummy. “Kaleb, please stay out of the road,” “Kaleb don’t roll in the woodchips,” “KALEB, NO FLINGING POO!”

My neighbor Jennifer was there also, my assistant Girl Scout leader. We mutually absolved each other of all failed Brownie responibilites. A huge sigh of relief on both our parts.

I sat against the brick wall and hung out with the kids while they ate lunch. It was interesting watching the already stratified social scene of the third grade. Poor sweet Darrell. Emma’s friends with his cousin and I used to babysit him when he was a newborn, the son of two co-workers. His infancy was plaqued with terrible ear infections. When I came back to town a few years ago I struck up a convo with his dad while we were waiting to pick up… I asked about Shannon and he looked really sad and said that she had died a few years previous. Shock. Poor Sweet Darrell. All alone at lunch, but he seemed okay about it, like it was situation normal. Oy. When I helped out making applesauce in the classroom I made a point of telling him I helped host his baby shower and told him some of the lovely things I remembered about his mother. He’s a good little kid. Today I nearly went over to sit with him but decided against socially dooming him as the kid eating with somebody else’s mom. I smiled at him instead and he beamed back. I hope he’ll be okay.