When Will I Learn

Most of the chaos in my work life comes from overhearing one end of a phone call or a question that I just need not overhear. The comment I overheard yesterday was made by my spokesmodel T and she said to a retiree, "you're 87 years old, why are you payin' child support?" I said to myself - "oh shit, here we go!" In my shiny new performance evaluation criteria it specifies that I am not to make the newspapers. Damn, my shrink used to tell me that too.

Biran

Biran is a Buddhist term meaning a cosmic storm that occurs in the moment before cosmic order shifts. It is a force of recovery, spontaneously manifesting itself to restore order. The storm can be powerful and violent. Yet, at the same time it is one that heals through cleansing and purification.

I recently celebrated 21 years of sobriety and each year at this time, I reflect on where I've been and how far I've come and Biran covers it nicely. Although, it's also tempting to refer to Pinky and the Biran and I know I should refrain but I won't.

Nobody Knows the Crazy She's Seen

I have a very close friend who has a set of siblings that should have their very own section of the DSM-IV. They are JFN (just fucking nuts, which another friend of mine says is the only DSM-IV code). One is crazier than the next, and they manage to put the fun in dysfunction and then there's this whole matter of never having returned from the class trip down denial. So the latest episode is that my friends oldest sister is looking a bit cyan of late (that'd be blue, and not the depressed kind) and BTW my friend is a nurse, old school, very experienced, knows her shit, 'nuff said. So crazy, blue, and behaving in a confused fashion, and my friend is, not without good reason, concerned about this potentially being a cardiac issue. My friend, we'll call her Helen, and her sister, we'll call her Blue, have lunch yesterday and Helen diplomatically says to Blue, "you need to see a doctor, your kids are worried and you look like hammered shit." Helen, unlike the rest of the siblings, is a direct sort. Soooo, enter Helen's other sister, who we'll call Bat because she's batshit whacko. And Blue's daughter, Mini Blue. Mini Blue calls Helen in a dither, (mini Blue is usually in a dither) that she doesn't know if she's going to be able to get her mom to go to the doctor. Haven't these people ever heard of guilt? Barring that, 911? So, Mini Blue calls her mom's doc and was told to bring her mother to the ER right quick. So MB is parked outside her mothers house and calls H to ask her where her mother might be (yes, the right answer is, in fact, I don't know, it's not my turn to watch her.) H calls Bat, Bat had just been dropped off from lunch by Blue so Blue was en route and Bat had a snootful. When Blue doesn't show up for about 20 minutes, the parties all exchange worried phone calls and Bat wants to go out looking for her. The Bat mobile has tires that have seen better days, no one is sure that she's got brakes and there's just no reason for Bat with a snootful to go trolling for her sister. Blue shows up fairly shortly after H talked Bat out of going out on the prowl. Mini Blue attempts to spirit her off to the ER and she is having none of it. By none, I mean none but MB would not leave until she elicited a promise that Blue would take her blue ass to the doctor. The doctor in this case being the orthopedic surgeon with whom she has discussed the replacement of her knees. I have it on good authority that orthopedic surgeons will no perform knee replacements on people who are sufficiently cyanotic that they are referred to as blue.

The Language of Friendship

I have a group of close friends at work and our language of friendship is unique within my experience. What sounds like 'shut the fuck up' to anyone with ears is actually 'I love you.' And what sounds like a sincere compliment: 'you're so pretty.' Is actually 'grab a clue, you fucking idiot.'

Planning Is Key

I took an Aikido class this evening, but I did squats, lots of them this afternoon. To be precise, about 135 squats, and 60 lunges per leg. And the main activity involved in Aikido is dragging one's ass back up to vertical from horizontal. It's best if one has done no squats that day. Otherwise, it was a fun class, a lot of pretzelization of the wrist. Pretzelizaion is a term that refers to the hyperflexion of the wrist that makes it feel like all eight wrist bones are trying to mate.

A Reminder of Impermanence

I typically wear a bodhi seed mala on my left wrist. The mala I’d been wearing for about 3 years broke this morning as I went to wrap it around my wrist. When I went for refuge and took vows (this is how one becomes a Buddhist) I was advised to bring or wear something that would remind me of what it is I’d vowed to do (among other things the essence of the vows are – ‘as long as space endures, as long as sentient beings remain, may I too remain to dispel the misery of the world, there are about 18 others that pertain to behaviors intended to decrease the amount of suffering I cause in the world, but I did sign on for the trans-incarnation package deal) and the mala was a reminder of that, plus I’d been wearing it daily for a long time and have uttered thousands of mantras and prayers on it. I also wore it when I was attuned as a Reiki Master/Teacher.

Much of meditation practice and study of Buddhism revolves around impermanence. The Buddha taught 3 things, in life there is suffering, suffering is caused by attachment, and the end of suffering comes with the cessation of attachment. When we come to realize that attachment to something or someone that is by nature impermanent causes our suffering, we learn to loosen our attachments in a way that is ultimately pretty liberating because in becoming more aware we can continually recognize that we are choosing our reality, rather than being swept along in circumstance.

I will miss it, I have another one, but it’s not the same, doesn’t fit the same, doesn’t feel the same, the beads are still very dark and haven’t aged. And I wrapped this one around my wrist knowing that in time, it too, will break and in time, so will my attachment to this life and this time. But in the meantime, I can take care with my new mala and my relationships which are new everyday and be mindful of the choices I make and the effects they have.

One of my wise nieces...

One of my nieces sent me one of those little questionnaire deals not unlike the one I posted a few days back. I asked her if she found out a lot of stuff about the people she sent it to that she didn’t already know. She said not really, that this had come up in conversation with her friends, her cousins and her other aunts and me. And we talked about what questions do you really need answers to, from someone before you know them.

Do you love yourself?
Yes.

How old were you when you started loving yourself?
About 24, when I got sober.

What makes you happy?
Being in the moment, without listening to the voices in my head that used to comment on everything that I did without mercy, and worrying about every damn thing all the time.

What makes you angry?
Mean people, people who hurt people who are smaller or weaker or too kind to fight back. Deliberate cruelty as well as inadvertent cruelty.

What are you most proud of?
20 years, 11 months, 21 days of sobriety.
Changing my life again at 40.


Do you believe in God?
After many years of being a fairly hard core Catholic with all the baggage that entails (17 funfilled action packed years of Catholic school), I’m now a practicing Buddhist and the notion of a creationist God is not germane to the compassion with which I conduct myself. So the questions to me, are do you believe that there is divine in every one you encounter, even the fools driving in the fast lane at 45 mph? Can you allow everyone you encounter to be your teacher? If only to learn yet another lesson about compassion.


And yeah, my favorite curse words are still variations on fuck. But now, I have to throw blessings after them.

Watercooler Chat

The ladies here are discussing anti-aging creams and Oil of Olay apparently makes one called Regenerist. Quite seriously one of these folks is calling it Oil of Lay Degenerate and talking about putting it on her ass. I'm crying with laughter here.

How to make yourself look taller

The party of the upside down part, that'd be me. I'd just been gently tossed over the gentleman's head. This is my favorite picture of me ever, as I am a big fan of action shots. The other thing I really like about this shot is what it represents to me. Taking high falls like this scared the crap out of me when I first started Aikido, but I did it anyway and it wasn't always this picturesque. Fear didn't win when it could have and has not won a round with me in years. When good sense might suggest that avoidance would have been the wiser choice. Wiser yes, more empowering choice no.

Water Cooler Talk

While at the water cooler, I overheard a woman being berated by a co-worker for using a nylon scrubbing pouf on her whup (whup would be generic for genitalia). I mean this co-worker was going off. "Girrrrl, you gonna scratch your junk off, mmm and if you catch that piercing, you gonna rip that shit off. Use a wash cloth, don't rip nothin' out your junk." What do you say to that? I skulked away, far, far away.

Aikido

I've been a student of Aikido for about 10-12 years with some injury time outs here and there. I've been cleared to return from a cracked clavicle. This is wonderful to me. Just being in the energy of the dojo, laughing with the dojo kids and us old mat rats, is delightful. The sensation of hitting the mat that first after awhile away, being thrown well, the mid-air adjustments required when I'm thrown less well or have to throw myself. Flying into a breakfall, with the happy news being the landing was safe and nothing broke. For me, Aikido is totally engaging from the minute I step on the mat, whether I'm nage (the thrower) or uke (the thrown) it's mesmerizing. And randori, free practice with multiple attackers is terrific - the flow - be, react, throw, nothing extra, nothing missing, it's all about being in the moment, keeping the ukes safe and off the walls. Damn, aside from the instructor, I was the only woman out of her teens on the mat. And only one of 3 people over 20. The technique is still strong though, despite my advanced age. Just goes to show age and treachery will overcome youth and skill. And my muscles have very good memories.

a slightly used shark

This here is Sharkbutt, he is 2. He hates fish, loves blueberry muffins, yogurt and honey, oh and me.

It is good to have goals

My goal in life is to perfect the nap. Yesterday I came damned close, football game quietly on in the background, light blanket pulled around my head, neck and chest, reclining in the recliner, slight breeze from the open door. And I was out, out cold. It was beautiful, especially two hours later when I woke up. There is nothing quite like a two hour nap in the afternoon. And it's not that I'm in any way averse to shorter naps.

Charm and Taxidermy

My home voicemail has a message that says, "Hi, you have reached Miss S's School of Charm and Taxidermy, no one can come to the phone right now because we're busy being either charming or taxidermic. Your message is very important to us, so please leave it along with the day and time of your call after the tone. This months charm tip is don't pee on the electric fence." I can tell that some telemarketers are charmed by it because they will call back several times to see if they heard it right. Several friends call to see if I've updated the charm tip - to don't pee on an electric blanket. And of course, the irony for people who know me really quite well is that I'm nearly completely devoid of charm.

Damn Cats

I have 3 cats, they're not always damn cats but most times merely cats. Although, Sharkbutt is working on an advice column, but that will be the subject of another entry. There is a sliding screen door backing up my sliding glass door in the back of Chez Randori. It is somewhat precariously perched as I realized when Sharkbutt crashed into it at a headlong gallop, a tasty snack gamboling on the lawn having caught his eye. (A tasty snack being any of a variety of wildlife that might traipse across the lawn.) The ensuing crash of the screen startled him sufficiently that he ran away from the snacks, thankfully. And startled me sufficiently that I bellowed "you sharky sumbitch don't scare me like that." This is obnoxious enough any time of the day. At 5:10am on a Sunday, it's just wrong.

Gym Rat

I work out at a gym several times a week, I have done so since I was a teenager. (I'm not giving any info other than this - it's been one long assed time) It amuses me no end to be back in the land of free weights. As I'm keeping an eyeball peeled for an unoccupied Smith machine, I notice drama on the hoof. For the uninitiated, a Smith machine is a barbell on a frame, the frame keeps the barbell on a certain vertical plane and makes it challenging to drop the weight on yourself. I use it to do squats. This afternoon, it was occupied by a drama king. The DK had 4 -45lb plates on it, I'll be sporty and do the math -180 lbs - he was doing squats. Respectable, if you're going about your business and not making a lot of huff and puff about it. Finally, he finished his performance and swaggered to the next machine, about 4 feet away. I perfunctorily growled 'you done here?' He indicated he was and I proceeded to heave another 4 -45 lb plates on the machine. And without any discernable grunting or carrying on proceeded to rip off 3 sets of ten. The dramatization on the machine next to me ceased after that as he slunk away from the leg section of things. It makes me happy to be strong like bull.

Whisperers

There is some current blather in the news about a dog whisperer. And have you noticed the proliferation of horse whisperers, dog whisperers about? My friend N is a girl whisperer, a very gifted girl whisperer. So inspiring, in fact, that it makes me realize I want to be a baby whisperer when I grow up. Babies are born knowing everything and begin to forget almost instantly. They need whisperers to help them and it's good for the karma. Oh who the hell am I kidding? I'm just a fool for babies.

Guilt or Why I Got a Passport

A few years ago when the parental units were travelling to Italy, my mother became obsessed with the idea that should anything go awry (i.e. her or my father's remains should for some reason need to be shipped back to the US) that I being the oldest would need to fly to the rescue. I demurred by saying - cremation, Fed Ex envelope, poof - you're back. Her response, 'but what if one of us gets sick?' Mine, 'you went to nursing school, sporty, not me, I don't speak Italian and your people consider me a heathen, pagan sinner (and a bold brazen harlot). I'd be an asset to you in Vatican City, why?' Well, to make a long and pointless argument short, I got the passport and post 9-11, it's been handy for travelling. Haven't been out of the country but that's mostly due to this Arizona obsession I've developed in my old age.

Getting to Know Me

1. What time is it? 1058 hours
2. Name: It means to embrace chaos.
3. Nickname: headhunter, silent bob, obi wan, chien po, mutha
4. Piercing: My ears
5. What is the most recent movie you've seen in the theatre: CARS
6. Last vacation destination: Sedona, AZ
7. Place of birth: New Brunswick NJ
8. Favorite foods: Mexican, Italian, pretty much anything that's not moving
9. Ever been to Africa: No
10. Ever been toilet papering {rolling): Yes
11. Love someone so much it made you cry? Yes
12. Been in a car accident: yup, with inanimate objects
13. Croutons or bacon bits: pass - whole bacon not mangled into bits
14. Favorite day of the week: any day above ground is a good one
15. Favorite restaurant: casa comida
16. Favorite flower. irises
17. Favorite sport to watch: rodeo
18. Favorite drink. cinnamon iced tea
19. Favorite ice cream. godiva chocolate anything
20. Disney or warner brothers: Warner Brothers
21. Favorite fast food restaurant: chik fil a
22. How many times did you fail your driver's test: 2
23. Before this one, from whom did you get your last E-mail: Wach-freakin-ovia
24. Which store would you choose to max out your credit card: REI, jersey paddler
25. What do you do when you are bored: meditate, eat, ride the bike to no where
26. Bedtime: 2230-2300
30. Favorite TV shows : rodeo
31. Ford or Chevy: Oh who gives a rats ass? I drive a pick up truck.
32. Listening to right now: the fucking gnat, yet another example of someone who needed to be a hand job.
33. How many tattoos: 6
34. Number of Siblings: 3
35. Like to dance: yes, Terpsichore is my muse of choice
36. Religious: no, not in the sense of being constrained by dogmatic thought.

Damn, Damn and Double Damn

Buddhists speak a great deal about mindfulness and the spiritual aspects of it are clear to me, but the practical aspects of being mindful keep appearing vividly in my experiences. Like many people I take some vitamin, mineral and nutrient supplements to hopefully stay healthy and such. One of my cats also takes a supplement to help relieve urinary tract issues from which he tends to suffer. Thought I reached for my chewable vitamin C this morning. WRONGO!!!! Got the cat UT formula, which unfortunately is liver flavored. Sometimes it makes me wonder if 'they' did in fact invent idiot mittens for me.

Getting to know me

I was the recipient of yet another of those getting to know you quizzes from a friend and it really caused me to wonder what kind of inside one gains from knowing one's friends favorite curse word. My curse word of choice is, not surprisingly perhaps, to anyone who has heard me utter more than 2 sentences, variations on the f bomb. My favorite expletive used for fellow drivers is typically wall eyed monkey fucker douche rocket. But then of course, I have to send them love because my karma is dreadful enough as it is. It also asks for a favorite song, one favorite song... that's tough - because my whole damned life has a soundtrack and the Ramones figure largely in that soundtrack simply because no one else sings about Cretin Hop or I Wanna Be Sedated. So the jury is still out on the favorite song thing. Although I'm loving Jeff Buckley - Everybody Here Wants You, today. Tomorrow, could be back to Peter Gabriel - In Your Eyes. Or not.

Stupid House Tricks

Went to open my bedroom window wider this morning (and of course, was topless) and broke the window, specifically the frame guts. I'm glad that I didn't break the window glass, the prospect of picking glass shards out of the twins does not ever loom as an attractive option (and especially now since I have a proper bra to tote them around in). But instead, I broke the mechanism that allows the window to open sideways for cleaning, which also allows the window to open normally for ventilation. This is not ever a good thing, so there I stood in all of my gravitationally challenged glory as a procession of neighbors out for either their morning walks, newspapers or garbage can retrieval or even simply to see what in hell that ass in 22 is up to now, fighting with the window structures. It's closed, may be that way until I get it replaced.

Hell Will be Loud

I had a preview today. Tropical Storm Ernesto was blowing in full force this morning and as happens from time to time. The power checked out. When the power checked back in my smoke alarms went off for about 5 minutes and ceased. So I thought they were just resetting after the power outage. Engaged in that perpetual feast that is laundry in my house and the alarms went off again. So I turned off the clothes dryer because it's just better. I didn't smell anything burning melting or weird so I reluctantly called 911. The fire chief and 2 police officers were dispatched with alacrity and hot on their heels came the fire truck. The fire chief and the firefighter came in and checked the joint out with a heat seeking camera, saw nothing alarming, turned the dryer back on for me and began to departed. The firefighter was packing away the heat seeking camera when the alarms went off again. So he waved down the chief, the two other chiefy looking guys and they all come back to check again. They allowed as I should turn the fan on my furnace unit on to keep the air moving and inquired as to the age of my smoke alarms. My smoke alarms are in their mid twenties, and hard wired so it would be reasonable that skronk would be affecting the detector heads. They check out my dryer again, pulling it out from the wall and discover that it's a flex hose that no longer meets the construction code and it has got a hole in it. Soooo - I have to not use the dryer until I replace the vent hose. No problem, I'm all over it. About an hour later as my ears are beginning to recover, did I mention that these smoke alarms sound at a volume not dissimilar to those surrounding the local nuke plant? And the alarms go off again. So I call 911 again and the send all my new friends back, they then test which alarm is going off upstairs or down, discern it is the upstair alarm and advise me that I will want to get an electrician in to switch out the old alarms. (Yep, could do it myself, nope, my insurance won't pay if I do it myself and there's an untoward occurrence so I will be finding an electrician to do that.)

This experience was far, far louder than the word loud even begins to suggest.

Fitting

I generally wear a size 7 Enell sports bra, it keeps the twins from getting all over the place and it covers the chest amply. So I need clothing suitable for weddings I have to attend and enlisted my friend K who provides stylish eye for the style challenged gal type advice to me. Her first inspiration was to get me a proper bra, and I must say that I really like how the twins look in this puppy but then I'm a big cleavage fan. I could get distracted checking them out. Makes me wonder if the D in 44 D stands for Dayum!