Does it take away from Christmas if you punch the cashier?

It's that time of year, you know the time where you find yourself scrambling though the note program on your phone to see if by some strange gift of god you actually wrote down what you wanted to get people for Christmas, before your ADHD addled brain filed it under "remember this next August" file.  

Of course, I didn't.   So, I find myself standing somewhere generally close to the  item or such thinking " it's just there, on the tip of my brain."  We'll, guess what?  IT'S BLOODY NOT.  Fortunately my better half made me a list of things he'd like and emailed it to me, which is how I ended up in the Pig Patrol supply store, pretending that I'm not a tatted up rocker who doesn't belong and that I do think the idiot rent a cops there getting fake badges deserve my respect, while trying to wedge my way into the hand guns, so I can see I'd I like the fit of any of them. (Yeah, I'm a girl, yeah I like things that have the potential to rip ones head off and yes, I do think there should be much closer monitoring and gun control for people) lets put it this way, if you're not educated on its use and your not mentally stable you don't deserve access.  But alas I was not there for me.  

No, being there for me would be simple, I would just walk away when the self righteous twit behind the counter offended me, but since I was there  Christmas  shopping I had to stay.  So, when I suggested to the fool behind the counter that perhaps they could assist me in finding what I came in for, the item I called and confirmed they had, and she said "No, I'm sorry you'll have to return the day after Christmas, we decided to change our hours today and we're closing three hours early."   My filter just slipped away and I may have implied that she was in the wrong industry to be shoving people out at will, along with a "You are kidding right?" To this she replied by telling me I had no idea what I was doing there.  Yep, me who researches everything due to the above mentioned ADHD thing. After she hissed this at me I turned and spelled out for her exactly what to find and "please could you hurry it up, because as you said your closing soon"   Followed by " I think you almost hurt my feelings."  Twits response " I can't imagine anyone hurting your feelings!"  Ha. Touché my little friend, now run along while I watch that wanna be cop over there stick another pair of handcuffs down his pants. 

Yep, Tis the Season and lord knows I really do love it!

Highways~

It's fitting that currently I'm feeling the angst of reflection, choices made, choices not made and the directions it's caused me to stumble as its that time of year: fall. Ok that is only part of the reason, it doesn't help that it's that time of year when all Jews ponder how they can become better, even at peace.

Once again it is not likely that peace is hovering over my door, ready to bounce in at a moments notice, waiting for my mind to clear of all that is troubling.  Not that life is not joyful and a daily blessing but damn, it's fucking hard.

While kvetching with a friend this evening, reviewing our life's decisions, good, bad, and down right dumb, she asked the age old question of all people who strive for zen;
"Can't we just stand in the field of flowers and be thankful for all we have, all we've done, the ones we've loved? "  after contemplating this for a time I realized:  NO we can't.   How the hell do you stand in the flowery field of life when you're worried that the beautiful pond under that amazing tree is probably infested with Mosquitoes, which will more than likely give you West Nile.  Then there's the realization as you approach said pond to make sure the water isn't stagnant like various times in life, that you're very likely to be bitten by the snake that is having a beverage after sunning himself on that comfy rock you were considering resting on while you reflect upon how lovely this field of flowers is.  
Come on, there's a reason life is fear based for some of us.  No, not that what might jump out at me now fear (but yes, I am one of those too), but that where am I?  Who am I?  Who will love me when I'm old?  For that matter will I have to worry about the dozen cats I'll more than likely have, eating me?

The level of comfort one feels as they literally drive down the highway that they have previously driven the opposite direction on,  to their past destinations, to see the sparkling blue pacific long enough to freak out, turn around, and drive 2000 miles back to the beginning, to then wake up the next day, and go back yet again to the land of the size 0s and double D's only to discover its not that bad, that level of comfort can be some what discerning.
The desire to mull that over, that, comes with fear.  Maybe knowing that it comes with fear is what helps you accomplish the current journey you're on, without going postal on your fellow drivers somewhere between Nashville and Memphis.   Or perhaps it's that fear that helps you push on.

All we do know is that this fear, it's a learned process and it comes with time, loss and betrayal. The questions that come with finding out your loved one strayed, the longing to know why and is he more dubious because he chose a married woman?  Does this answer ones questions about how he feels about the institution of marriage, or for that matter a life with another.

This fear, it developed with the haunting of what might have been.  The people lost by ones choice, and the ones gone by their own actions.  Either way, it's rejection and with that comes pain, and pain equals fear.

Everything is compounded by time, the wonderful time that either guides you to that lovely pond, you know the one.  Yes, the pond where you see your reflection and the beauty of life in the character of your face as the swarm of mosquitoes come in and eats you alive.

There's a monster under my bed!

Mom Humor!

O. k. there's not but there should be.  As I purged my closet today I realized something about beliefs in things such as: If you treat your money with respect it will treat you with respect, If you store things under the bed your blocking your flow (flow of what I don't know), If you leave a hat on the bed it's bad luck, etc.  

For no reason what so ever it occurred to me that someone some where woke up one morning and thought "damn, yesterday sucked it must be because I left my hat on the bed."  Or, wow, I'm broke, it's because I don't respect my money.  Well, last time I checked money had no feelers and my hats didn't dance around surrounded by luck.  This, of course does not mean that you don't have a lucky hat or that if you send money to charity it won't come back to you in the form of warm fuzzies.  It means, life is what we make of it, good, bad and sometimes down right indifferent. 
The trick, I'm learning is to ignore the indifferent part and hang on to the good and even the bad.  Why hang on to both?  Because they form who we are and how we behave during those sucky indifferent phases of life.  

Rain drops and yellow brested finches

Fall is on its way!

Both are in my garden right now, if of course, you can call the patch of green completely unstructured and over run with basil.  Every year I consider ripping out the basil and allowing the other plants a chance at life, then I remember that the yellow breasted finches love it.  So, the basil stays.

The best part about these rare days is that staying in feels good and right.  As opposed to the blistering hot days that we find ourselves huddled up in our homes.  O.K. I find myself huddled up in my home like its the middle of a Siberian winter on any day that's over 105* which generally is the better part of the summer. 

The Bengals had a party today, destroying my best lens and filter.  How is it that a cat who is afraid of his own shadow can blatantly look at me as he knocks a lens off a secured place?  Apparently, it wasn't that secured or he wouldn't have been able to knock it down.  This is the same cat who at nine months decided he would knock a bottle of Worcestershire sauce off the top shelf of the pantry, wait for me to walk in and see what had shattered, jump down 7 feet (Really, I've no idea how he got up there he's not a jumper) mover over to the table and perch himself off the side to watch me clean it up.  Bengals seem to make Oriental Shorthairs look saintly.  Unless of course you count the whole talking all the time thing.  If you're counting that then Orientals when hands down every time!

Welcome to the Jungle Baby!

Stanley~Raymond showing his disdain for early mornings~

Alright it may not be the jungle but considering it’s monsoon season it sure feels like it!  Don’t get me wrong, I’ll take a steamy hot day over the dry convection heat any day.  There’s nothing that says “shriveled up like a prune.” like 4% humidity.  Honestly, how did the settlers do it?   I’d like to think it was cooler here back in the day, or perhaps they had water coming from springs and wells that are now lost on the modern world.  Yes, well, if nothing else it’s something to ponder.  It’s really not hard to find it here if say, you’re interested in a giant fountain or a pool but should you be looking for a babbling brook may I suggest somewhere in B.C.? 

With a little luck this will evolve into a blog that has a pretty picture here and there and maybe some jewelry to oooh and ahhhh over, then again, it could just be occasional ramblings about what it’s like living on the surface of the sun far away from your friends and very close to your “not really” in-laws, which depending on whether or not said “not really” mother in-law is cooking is pretty nice.  No, this is not due to my lack of culinary skills, it’s because she be from south of the border and cooks amazing mexican food!