The Road to Phoenix

Despite an unauspicious start -- removing the tyvek cover in freezing rain (Los Gatos has its own micro-climate. Who knew?) and finding that the driver side wiper wouldn't wipe -- things did get better. Chris, my favorite (OK, only) RV mechanic found the loose bolt, tightened it, and the wiper now wipes again!

First leg of the trip was the 6.5 hour drive to Palm Springs. I drove the first 1.5 hours, Michael drove the next 2.5 hours; we switched again at lunch and I drove the next 1.5 hours. Michael drove the final 2.5 hours. Yes, do the math :-)

Moon Dance has now been checked out, propane on, auxiliary battery on, drains and toilet flushed and primed, refrigerator starting to cool down.

Early dinner at JJ's -- Mexican restaurant run by a man from El Salvador and his Guatemalan wife who does all the cooking -- our favorite place to eat in Palm Springs. Then early to bed, I think. We have another 3 hours to drive tomorrow to get to the rally. Any bets how long the drive will really take? There's a seminar at 1 PM I really want to attend ...

stay tuned ...

exercises, part deux

I had a nice talk with my wonderful therapist today. Her advice? Keep exercising the muscle and it gets stronger. The ideal place to be on the spectrum between Numb Nuts and total abnegation is "healthy narcissism" and that's where I should be.

Along with validation from my soul mate, I need to practice self-validation; learn and practice self-soothing; practice self-reliance.

What is the worst that can happen if I state my need for something to be? How will I deal with that worst thing? Once I have that down, just keep practicing.

Exercises

Goddess Silver, Goddess Bright, please take this wish from me tonight. Full to Dark, and ‘round again, please grant this wish for me ere then: Please help me to become, to be and to remain strong and independent. As I will it, so mote it be.

Four times a week, I go to the gym for cardio exercises; twice a week for strength training. With the help of my trainer and encouragement from my soul mate, I have gained strength, agility, flexibility and feel younger than my years by far. I can keep up on a moderately challenging hike or bike ride. My body feels healthy and happy and just fine, thank you very much.

Nearly every day, I do a challenging crossword puzzle. At the moment I have eight simultaneous online Scrabble games in progress with my sister, brother-in-law, daughter and two grandsons. I can sometimes even beat the kids; and my sister only beats me by double my score instead of triple as she did once. My mind feels healthy and happy and just fine, thank you very much.

Once a week, I take a pottery class from a Master Teacher. Daily I design and execute quilts and pots, most of them pleasing to my eye, some even pleasing to the eyes of others. Sunrises, sunsets, bird-song, wind, sky, water and earth are part of my life every day. My soul feels health and happy and just fine, thank you very much.

But the spirit? Not so much. A while back, I was traded in for a newer model: not necessarily more fit, more mentally agile, but definitely a new, bright, shiny thing. I was blindsided, bereft, devastated. My ego, my self esteem are still vulnerable, weak and frighteningly fragile.  How does one exercise ego? How does one build up muscles in self esteem? How can feeling of self worth be made strong, agile, and flexible? Where does one go to find a coach or trainer for these?

Those last four are not rhetorical questions. I really need to know. Can anyone out there give me some tips? pointers? help?

Young Love

I fell in love with words in elementary school, First Grade to be exact. Back in the day, when I started school, the kindergarten curriculum consisted of learning to tie one's shoes and share one's toys, to not eat library paste or run with scissors, and to color inside the lines. We did become familiar with letters but not really in conjunction with words.

In First Grade we learned that letters all have their own sounds; except for the greedy ones that have two and shy little C who has none of her own and just borrows from her two friend S and K. But I digress.

I had a large vocabulary of spoken words already, due to all the teachers and librarians in my family. My habit was always to read ahead of the teacher. In our Spelling text book, the directions said that after each test we were to write all missed words in our naughty book. Teacher got to that part and I learned the rule that turned naughty book into notebook. 

By Seventh grade I had been exposed to poetry and learned that words could sing, even without music ... they could make their own music.

In high school I grew to love the primitive beginnings of words -- Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote, The droghte of Marche hath perced to the roote ….. Wherefore art thou Romeo …  a rose by any other name would smell as sweet. 

Always though, I tried to learn the meanings of words and especially dear to me are the ones with many, sometimes unrelated, meanings.

For example, “Mark” means

• ·         A curse: the mark of Cain
• ·         A unit of currency in Germany, Poland, Finland, Bosnia-Herzegovina and Estonia.
• ·         A name [and the name of a person who is extremely dear to me.]
• ·         A customer that spends a lot of money trying to win a game. [This term was coined because carnies would alert each other to the big spender by marking him some way (usually by patting them on the shoulder with powdered chalk in hand).]
• ·         A term for the border territories of a country.
• ·         A clean catch from a kick by another player that results in a free kick in Rugby.
• ·         A spot or stain.
• ·         A dupe or  a victim selected for a theft or a swindle
• ·         A symbol signifying the maker of original art.
• ·         A student’s grade on a particular piece of work.
• ·         A badge
• ·         A visible impression
• ·         An influence

So many different meanings for such a little word, eh?

Decompression and coming home

Burning Man flashacks while walking down LV Blvd at night -- noise? Check. flashing lights? Check. changing music every 20'? Check. Costumed strangers? Check. All that's missing is the dust.

Slowly returning to the default world, driving back through Mojave and the Tehachapi Pass, so much better than abruptly flying, landing. Thud.

Moving from desert back into the green world.

Tehachapi Pass musings

What makes me happy?

Windmills make me happy. Big, slow,lumbering ones. Little tinkly, twinkly ones. Medium sized,no nonsense, businesslike ones.

Michael makes me happy.

Small children playing. My children. My grandsons. My cat. Make me happy.

Men with twinkly, sparkly eyes.

Women who are smart and caring and warm and cuddly make me happy.

The Real Tale of Sleeping Beauty

[The following is a reposting of a profile I once had on an online dating site. A Handsome (and Polyamorous) Prince has arrived on the scene since this was originally posted in 2006. I do not plan to live happily ever after, washing up and keeping house in his castle. We are pretty much content with each other's company and we take turns staying in his castle and in my cottage in the forest as often as we can.]

Everyone knows the fairy tale about Sleeping Beauty, right? The lovely princess who fell afoul of some nasty old crone, fairy or witch or whatever she was. The princess fell asleep and waited, patiently we presume, for some persistent prince to overcome all obstacles and wake her with his kiss.

Like all fairy tales, this one is based on a true story; like all fairy tales, it is so exaggerated that the kernel of truth inside is just about invisible. Let me tell you how it really was.

First off, the princess: she was not blonde, blue eyed and beautiful beyond description. That was just the Press Release from the Palace Public Relations Department. PR departments gotta do what PR departments gotta do, to justify their existence. The real princess was reasonably attractive, with red hair, green eyes and freckles. (Lots of freckles.) So right off we need to change the title of the story to: The Tale of the Sleeping Reasonably Attractive Person.

But there is more. She wasn’t asleep for one hundred years. That is just downright silly. Nobody can sleep for one hundred years. Well, no person; cats seem to be able to manage a reasonable facsimile, but I digress. The princess, lets call her RA for convenience sake, was only dozing and sort of oblivious to things in general. And it only lasted about thirty years, which seemed like a hundred to her family, but still, only about thirty years. New title change again: The Tale of Dozing and Sort of Oblivious Reasonably Attractive [Princess].

Oops. More facts getting in the way of a good story: she wasn’t a Royal princess at all. Her father wasn’t a hereditary monarch, nor was her mother, nor was any ancestor as far back as anyone can trace. As with all first born daughters, she was her Daddy’s Little Princess, of course. But that is as far as it goes, and when the other daughters were born that designation was diluted a couple of times over. Our story’s title changes again: The Tale of Dozing and Sort of Oblivious Reasonably Attractive Eldest Daughter. [You can see why the PR Department was tearing its hair out and came up with the shorter title, now can’t you?]

Title squared away, we can get down to the nitty gritty of the tale now. Fairy tale version: big to do at the christening party with [Disney version] fairy godmothers in a snit or [traditional version] some ugly old crone in the woods in a snit. In the true story, little RA had a nice godmother who not only wasn’t a fairy or ugly old crone, she didn’t believe in fairies and was young and reasonably attractive herself. There is no record of her ever having, or being in, a snit to this day. No snit, no curse, right? The christening party is out of the picture. It did make a nice visual that the PR Department wanted to play up, but it just didn’t happen.

If there was no snit, and there was no curse, what caused the one hundred year sleep, you ask? Weren’t you paying attention?? It wasn't sleep and the time frame was thirty years!

Here is where the prince came into the picture. Don’t ask how the PR Department managed to spin this into the story you are familiar with, but here is how it really went down. Again, he was Moderately Attractive rather than Handsome. And he was a Prince only in that he was the first born son and they usually are. Or think they are, once their grandmothers get finished with them. Handsome Prince morphs into Moderately Attractive First Born Son. It doesn’t scan as well, but it is closer to the truth.

There was a Kiss involved. Whew, you say, at last some truth to the story. Well, it was a kiss, not a Kiss, and actually there were quite a few involved. All the kisses didn’t add up to a KISS though, so don’t get too excited. The accumulation of kisses, along with some sweet talking, and a goodly amount of material goods and travel and other enticements did add up to a Kiss Equivalent.

And it was that Kiss Equivalent from the Moderately Attractive First Born Son that caused the Reasonably Attractive Eldest Daughter to Doze and be Sort of Oblivious for thirty years (give or take, fairy tales do seem to enjoy using round numbers).

Now, I suppose you wonder if the Happily Ever After ever happened either. It seems to have, but not in the true Fairy Tale manner. One day the Dozing and Sort of Oblivious Reasonably Attractive Eldest Daughter looked around at the Moderately Attractive First Born Son and at all the Kiss Equivalents and realized that it was all a Fairy Tale. All the time the Prince-equivalent had been insisting she stay locked in the castle; had been alienating her from her friends; had screamed and pouted and accused her of looking at other princes; he had been banging Bimbos from Boston to Bangkok, and back again.

The latest Bimbo wanted to move into the castle, so the Princess-equivalent took her son and went off to live in a Cottage-in-the-Forest Equivalent and has been pretty much content ever since.

Me, I’ll settle for Pretty Much Content Ever Since over Happily Ever After any day. You?