Equirox

It crossed my mind this morning as I drove to work that the year is 3/4 over. 75% done. The autumnal equinox pretty much came and went. And we marked the weekend with a visit to Aaron and Michelle up in Maine there. We didn't do anything special. We didn't even go to church, but my little marking of the event is a thankfulness to God that we're living day to day, whether or not the year is 1/4 or 7/15 over. It's been an interesting year.
So aside from my sudden sadness that 2001 is more waning than waxing, here's a recap of the events and some of my thoughts on the state of the world.

As mentioned, this was the Autumnal Equinox, or Equirox as we called it. We try to name our gettings-together with Aaron and Michelle because they are special events. And because naming shit is fun!
When we went to visit them in May, it was Lobstercaust weekend. Many (6) lobsters died. And a feast of remembrance was held for them. Plus a lot of wine and barbecued stuff consumed. It was a blast. Equirox was established before the events of September 11, and those events have kind of mellowed or bummed the collective four of us out, so we needed a fun get together. Doug and I also referred to this weekend as "Operation Northern Justice" to kind of make fun of that whole naming military actions thing... It was not as cool as Equirox though.
We got there on Friday night, about 9pm. Settled into watching the celebrity "event" for the world to see that they cared about America and they wanted us to care too and give money. I thought it was cheesy, poseurish, and annoying, so we sat and mocked it. I did feel sorry for Muhammed Ali, having to defend his faith, and I thought Julia Roberts was going to cry her ass off at one point. The little celebrity storytelling vignettes between the songs did nothing for me except seethe, thinking to myself that Hollywood just always has to jump on the bandwagon. ugh.
The majority of the music was great though. Seeing Neil Young perform with Eddie Vedder from Pearl Jam (love the haircut Eddie!), Sting's soft and tender rendering of "Fragile" (although I would have preferred his Christmas song of "Gabriel's Message" for that moment in time), and Wyclef Jean's presentation of Mr. Bob Marley's "Redemption Songs" were the highlights for me. I hate Celine Dion. I didn't care at all for stupid Sheryl Crow or the majority of the folks they chose... so it was fun mocking them. Horray! Hollywood people care! Woo hooo! I feel SO MUCH BETTER KNOWING THAT!!!!!!!!!! man alive.

I also wonder how many people called up during the 2 hour happy fest thinking they were gonna get to talk to Goldie Hawn or Cuba Gooding, Jr., or any other celebrity manning the phone bank... only to get some girl in Houston Texas at the 'real' phone bank. All those celebrities were talking to their agents. Check out Tom Cruise here... I can almost hear him now...

"Hey, Morty, It's Tom. Yeah. I know. Hey, I gotta question, are you watching? Yeah. Okay. So, do I look like I'm really into this... Oh, you think I should pretend to write something down.... No shit, really? yeah, what a great idea! Okay, I'm nodding and looking sincere... Pretend to write something... yeah. Got it. Okay..."

(notice, Tom brought his new girlfriend Penelope, she's sitting there not knowing how to take down a credit card number, or knowing what a credit card number is for that matter. Man is she ugly. Nicole was MUCH cuter).

Poseurs.

So after a hearty mocking, we went to bed. 

The next morning we got up and went to a country fair. Not just any old run of the mill country fair, but the Maine Organic Farmers and Growers annual "Common Ground" fair. The fair really cool, even though I personally don't agree with a lot of "political action" content that comes with this scene... I mean, hey, farm and be free to be organic but don't make it married to Friends of Castro and Falun Gong content all the time.

Organic farming is cool. I'm all for free range cattle raising (there was a lot of organic meat there, even though I at first feared it'd be kelp burgers under the communal tarp), and I'm all for food that has no radiation content. I'm all for "heirloom" vegetables, which my husband had to explain to me, I'm all for chicken without hormones injected in them.

But I really don't feel connected through that to the far liberal end of other things, like lobbying congress to get our policies regarding Cuba changed, or the Green Party in its full rolling glory, or anti-science stuff. I'm okay with testing on animals for the most part as long as they aren't being overtly tortured. Aaron's mom is alive today because her breast cancer treatments were animal tested. I am okay with that. It's kind of too bad, and perhaps stuff doesn't need to always be tested on animals, but I understand why it needs to take place.

I like farming when it's just farming and there isn't stuff tied to it that is all political and has strings attached. It makes me uncomfortable to be around people of that ilk. And if they knew I was a conservative Christian republican chick, they'd run me out on a rail.

I used to be kind of into the whole co-op granola scene in college. The older I get the more convinced I am that it's just too goofy, and for all it tries to liberate, it just constrains life further. When what I put into my mouth is tied to someone else's opinion, it makes me want to go to Burger King or something. So I tried to look past the overtly over the top liberal tree hugging anti-war stuff to see the cool stuff that was there.

There were really cool artisans there who had awesome furniture and clothing and arts and crafts. I was impressed by the handiwork. And blown away by the prices.

There were a lot of booths of tractors and farming equipment on display, which I thought was cool, and they were situated right beside a guy selling scythes. Yup. True organic farming I guess. 12th century style farming. Farming as it's done in some places under the Taliban regime farming. May as well go all the way if you're going to do it! Doug and I joked around that we should buy one and he can dress up as the grim reaper for Halloween, and trim the grass along people's walkways!

Aaron wants to build a geodesic dome house, it's his life long dream. So he was in his glory looking at solar panels, dome constructing booths, alternative furnaces and the like. He hung out with the organic toileting folks, and had a groovy time of it all. I'll look forward to hanging out in his geodesic dome house someday... he'll get it done once they have the money and the land they need. And it'll rock.

Anyway.

So the fair was overall really fun. For dinner after we were sufficiently beat to exhaustion, the boys went shopping for foodstuffs (hunter-gatherer types that they are) and I made a chicken parmesean that couldn't be beat. At least not this side of Italy. It was a great meal to cap off a day.

Sunday morning at about 7:30 Aaron & Michelle's dog, Gonzo, and Kinger were playing with the kids. I was trying to sleep and the chaos was happening right next to my head. Playing usually deteriorates to Geoff irritating Gonzo or Gonzo just getting over stimulated and the chewing on the child begins... so I rolled over to take ahold of Gonzo's collar at the first sound of trouble, and when I did...

I took a flying high-speed paw right to the left eyeball. Mother of GOD! That hurt. Oh man. More pain than I remember in a long time, localized right in my one tiny little rolling eyeball nestled in its little orbit.

Gonzo was jumping up onto the futon where I was sleeping, right where my face was. And his front right paw, claws and all, went right into my eye. I've got a bruise under my eye, and the white of my eye is about 50% red all along the left side of the eyeball... and it is really starting to hurt, so I just called the Doctor to go in and have it checked out. It's getting redder and more inflamed. Stupid Dog! Ouch! Damnit! 

That kind of put a damper on the day for me on Sunday, so we sat around drinking Irish coffee, chatting, eating, chatting... until it was time to go. We got home at about 9:30, got the kids to bed, and collapsed.

I need a weekend from my weekend, again!

Aaron and Michelle are coming down to see us next in about 2 weeks. We'll probably go to Boston to see Jon Svetkey play out. He's a musician I used to be really close to back in the day, and he's doing his first solo gig in over 4 years at Club Passim. If I can find a sitter.

I'm off to the doctor to get the eye looked at. I've got more stuff to chat about... but it'll have to wait.

Gayle to the rescue...

I decided this morning that I needed to have a little fun. My sister ragged on me for not finishing up some grandma stuff, but that's like a whole site, and I only really had a couple of minutes this morning to make myself feel better and give myself a good hearty laugh.

Everyone is convinced we're going to die. Everyone is convinced the coming war will be long, protracted, hard, and will impact our nation like no other war we've seen. Our president, I do wish him luck, keeps using the word "crusade" in his speeches, which is a huge mistake considering the Muslims are still pissed from the "crusades" to irradicate them back in the day, so they now have a really good excuse to defend themselves. Muslims are only supposed to kill if they or their religion is under direct attack, which is the definition of a crusade against them from way back when. So here we go. Osama's gonna say "see? I told you so! Now fight with me" and One Billion pissed of Muslims are going to try and kick our asses. Not good.

So I asked myself: Self, what would make us feel better? I had a dental appointment this morning, got the old chompers cleaned and it all looks super good in there. I'm feeling confident that my own personal little space is okay as long as I don't get laid off, and even then, we have enough to make ends meet, we have gorgeous children, and Canada is only 4 hours away if we need to book it. So on top of feeling pretty okay, I began to feel inspired. What this world needs now is a hero. And that hero is Gayle.

I know I should be kind in this day and age, none of these are mean in any way... Linda, these are for you. I love you. Hope they make your ass fall off as you laugh yourself into an aneurysm and thanks for waiting on the grandma chapter I still haven't completed.

A secret meeting resulted in Gayle agreeing to go out and help. She can handle it! Cheney said that Gayle is "our nation's only hope." (sorry the graphic was corrupted... but the message comes through). cg -6/4/05

She thinks the Sausage Fingered One is too big for his britches, but realized she needed to get her message to a wide audience. So she did his radio program and Howard Stern, but hasn't sent out any pictures from that stop on her media tour. I guess Howard only wanted to talk about her panties and whether or not she's had any girl on girl action since dating Osama... Gayle got mad and left the studio.

Gayle met with bin Laden in a secret but very big library in Afghanistan. He agreed to all her requests and even let her have a picture taken with him even though he was upset that she wasn't dressed right. He normally doesn't like to be around women who aren't in full robe and veil... the day is saved!

Upon her return, a gayle-la (ha ha, get it, instead of gala, it's gayle-la... I know. bad.) celebration was thrown and celebrities came from all over the world to festival with Gayle.

I later found out the man in this picture is Latin singing "sensation" Marc Anthony and he isn't gay. He could have fooled me though.

Pete Sampras showed up at the gala festival, Gayle congratulated him on his victory over the Australians, and he congratulated her on her victory over evil.

Andy Dick attributes his new clean and sober lifestyle to Gayle's help. Man! She's a help to everyone! A true friend and true patriotic American. yay!

Heroin and the One Ring

One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them
One Ring to bring them all, and in the darkenss bind them,
In the Land of Mordor, where the Shadows Lie.

I have a friend who has been gripped in a pretty hard core heroin addiction for over 2 years. He recently lost his job, lost his residence, has been in detox several times. Now he's got two options: go to a long term recovery program for 3 months and stick with it, change his life; or go into the whole long term heroin thing with law breaking, robbery, pimping, stealing to support his habit.

He has chosen the former.

I can only pray for him. Give him my support... like my country to make right decisions, but I can't impact the bottom line for either when it truly comes down to it. I can for my friend. My best friend.

We gave him a ride to the detox center this weekend. I can only say that it irritates and disturbs me deeply that someone would do this to themselves, someone so bright, so talented, so well liked and loved. That he'd throw his whole life away and for what... nothing in return.

---

I'm re-reading "The Lord of the Rings" again, for the umpteen millionth time so I have it all fresh in my mind to criticize the movie when it comes out.

The thing that is most apparent and striking to me right now is the power of the One Ring... it is a lot like what the hold of heroin is on someone.

Bilbo couldn't part with it and just had to walk away, fighting with his best friend Gandalf... Frodo lives in constant temptation to use it, even though he is in awareness of how evil it is. Destroying it in the Cracks of Doom is the only option.

It isn't as if you can hold it in your hand and not want to use it, or just possess it and say you can live with it and control it... but no, it controls you and rules you. Having it in your possession means you'll use it and fall under its control. The longer you use it, the harder it is to break that connection. Gollum is the perfect example of someone so ravaged by the possession of the ring, that he returns to the Enemy, the ring's maker and informs him of it's existance.

I think it's often funny how literature, music, art, take on different meanings based on different states I find myself in. I'm not surprised that I see LOTR as connected to heroin, especially because my friend is a big Tolkien fan... How we don't see that which controls us and ruins us until it is too late... that's sticking with me right now.

I wish him the success of Frodo and his merry hobbit friends.

Shower the people you love with love...

Driving to work this morning, I was scanning around the dial and got to WBCN, to the Howard Stern Show... I don't normally listen, but...

There was an interesting echo to the quality of Howard's voice and I could tell it was the end of the segment, but they were getting ready to play something special. It sounded like something that was recorded live on a soundstage. I recognized the second in studio voice immediately as James Taylor's, and he and Stern were setting up the song JT was going to play, as JT strummed a few notes.

He then launches into a sweet guitar intro, immediately recognizable by the chords as the opening of "Shower the People." He sings it with such sweet earnestness. He changed some of the lyrics, saying "things are going to work our righteous if we only will..." in the refrain.

I think he was angling at some sort of political statement, refering to the squeaky wheel as "he's alway's getting his grease..." which may be pointed at someone who may be... George W. Bush (my guess, not sure of the context of when the recording was made...). Regardless of his political stance, hearing him call out to everyone to "Shower the people you love with love, show them the way that you feel. Things are gonna be much better if we only will..." just made me start crying my heart out.

I think he, JT, may be of the mindseat that the "people we love" are the folks who blew up the WTC and the Pentagon, and that we should shower them with love and peace instead of missles and liquid fire. Perhaps turning to what is basically a true Christ-like stance toward the attackers. I'm not sure I think we can or should do that, but taking the context of what I normally held as just a normal schmaltzy 70's love ballad and making it a call for global peace and forgiveness dopeslapped me hard on the way in today.

JT is a well known limousine liberal, as more-enlightened-than-the-unwashed-masses rich people types who believe in giving everyone's money away normally are. I'm not sure I fully agree with a truly passive act of diplomacy in this context, because terroristic behavior isn't going to stop no matter how many open conversations and round table discussions or diplomatic summits we have with the Taliban or any other fringe hate-group. It's just not going to stop, we can possibly slow it down by a military strike, but it will never go away.

But you know how music impacts me. So much music lately has changed meaning for me.

So I'm listening to JT. I am showering the people I love with love right here. I am examining my behavior with my kids, my co-workers, my friends. I am trying to not let other people and their hate stop me from turning to others around me and just letting them know I love them. I'm going to be more helpful.

Shower the people.

---

I spent the morning in a 2 hour long meeting. Wolfed down a lunch. Went to another meeting. Came back to finish this entry... and prior to doing that, I looked at the Boston Globe. Big mistake.

They have published a series of online photo galleries, and the most recent is of refugees who are trying to escape Afghanistan.

There is a picture of two little kids in a cart, one is a sleeping infant, the other a small child, probably 2 years old, who is crying. And they are in the cart on a road on their way to hopefully get to the Peshawar in Pakistan.Their mother or father is probably begging somewhere off camera.

Their bodies are so cute and brown, and they are so small. The one crying probably has just been punished for trying to get out of the cart, or he's hungry, hurt... I'm having a hard time imagining that in a few days these kids and a score of others could very well be casualties.

As awful as it is that what the terrorists have done to us in NYC and Washington, I can't help but have a small part of me that wants the killing to stop.

To just fucking stop already. Can't there be some other option? God, would you please tell me?!

I want the cells of terror broken up. I want Osama Bin Laden and all his worms brought down. I want justice for the thousands of murdered people who just wanted to make a living but just didn't fit in with what the world view of an Islamic fundamentalist is.

But I know that if there is an out and out war, a full force, hard-core military strike, I know full well what these men do.

These "heros," the brave men of Allah, just hide behind children just like these kids. They cower behind a curtain of civilians, and then point the finger of blame at us when we come after them, saying we are murderers of their women and children. It's far different than what we try to do, and what 'normal' cultures try to do in hiding the kids, protecting the children... and it is something I just can't grab hold of in my mind.

This picture honestly sends me into convulsions when I look at it.

I want to grab these kids from the street. I want to put them in clean clothes and show them Veggie Tales and Toy Story 1 and 2. Let them know they are safe. To get them out of the cycle of violence, out from under the wretched jurisdiction of the Taliban, a government that twists its religious founding of Islam into something that is a total bastardisation of what that religion really IS. Shower the people...

I want them to have true freedom to grow up and be sassy and goofy, to just have the freedom to grow up. That's all.

Instead I have to keep pretending in my mind I never saw them. It's the only thing I can do. Because I know what's coming. I know what is coming. But I honestly hate knowing it.

For as upset as we were as a nation that Timothy McVeigh viewed the children who died in the Murragh Building as "collateral damage," how can we honestly feel comfortable knowing that kids like this are going to also end up as "collateral damage" in a military strike against Afghanistan.

Someone please. Shower the people, the children, with something other than death from above.

So very tired. But have nothing to bitch about when it really comes down to it.

I've watched a lot of TV.

I'm very drained. Listening to the talking heads, trying to keep abreast of what the situation is, where our nation stands, if there will be a counter strike, will that counter strike glean nothing more than another sneak attack by Osama Bin Laden or some other organization... What would Jesus do/think here? What should I think or do here? What is up with Jerry Falwell blaming all of this on gays? I mean, it isn't like any Jews were in New York for the Muslims to strike at. So it's all the gay people in America's fault. Oy.

It isn't gay America's fault. It isn't the Jews "fault". It isn't any one person or group's fault we got attacked per se. There are so many reasons, so many variables.

Our very soft borders.

No "racial profiling" when looking for enemies of the state.

Our law enforcement system which lets people go even when there's sufficient evidence.

Flaws in our foreign policy, which funds terrorists when they suit our needs. For instance, we bankrolled Bin Laden when he was fighting aganist the Soviet Union, and we bankrolled Saddam Hussein when we wanted Iraq to kick the crap out of Iran. Yet when they turn on us we're upset. What? What did we expect?

The fact that we gave the benefit of a doubt to people who wanted to go to flight school and the fact the flight school instructor heard the "students" complaining they "didn't need to learn how to take off or land, just how to fly..." Uh, hello? Red Flag? Sirens? Didn't any of those go off?

The fact our airline industry has cheap flimsy doors and little or no inflight security measures.

The fact that no matter what there are going to be crazy people with desire, drive, and a willingness to die to destroy that with which they do not agree, in the name of whatever.

The fact that God has a big plan for all of us, whatever it is, and it just happens. Perhaps this will bring a lot of people together. Perhaps it will just drive further into our hearts a desire for isolationism. Whatever the reasons, investigate them, prevent them as best as possible in the future and try and get on with living.

I think Bart Simpson here sums it up nicely:This does both suck and blow.

---

I'm glad I've got a little part of me that enjoys a good laugh at this time. And Bart makes me laugh. None of this is any fun, but, it is kind of important to take all of the situation and try to find something to laugh about. Bruce Springsteen sang "Someday we'll look back on this and it will all seem funny..." but I honestly doubt that applies here, none of this will ever seem funny. Pearl Harbor isn't funny. But if we get enough distance between this event, we can find some gems in it. It may take about 500 or so years, but as a culture we can find something to mock.

I keep getting email from people with stories from Nostradamus, or numerology lessons pointing to the last days. On the whole I enjoy debunking the emails, finding out that the author didn't write the sentiments the other day but actually wrote them in 1973 and has been dead himself since 1984 (the Canadian article by Gordon Sinclair is that one... he wrote it about something else, and ... well. Someone felt it fit today, once it was edited down and references to 1973 removed)...

I got what I thought was a funny email with a reconstructed tower in the shape of a hand with the middle finger standing up (pictured left).

A great big New York Fuck You to the world.

That made me laugh.

I thought, yeah, that's just the thing. New York at it's finest... once again looking for that shred of humor. I sent it to a bunch of people that I thought would agree that it was funny.

One friend wrote me back and told me it wasn't very Christ like to have that attitude and he asked me not to send him anything else about the WTC.

Well, seeing as that isn't very Christ like, turning your back on someone and dropping them as a friend, I emailed him an apology and explained that I agreed wholeheartedly that sure, I know that it isn't very Christlike to take an F you attitude to the world.

Perhaps I should have thought it through, before sending it.

But I'm not Christ. I'm all but too human, and all but too angry.

Aside from being angry, I'm hurt. I wish "I had a rocket launcher so I could make somebody pay," to steal from Bruce Cockburn. I thought that it was essential to express anger in acceptable ways, rather than running into the streets and looking for anyone who looks vaguely Arabic to kick their asses, or throwing rocks through business windows of people I suspect are Muslim. And you know that is going to happen, and that breaks my heart.

I wanted to send an e-mail to the Islamic Center of New England to tell them that I love them... that I don't blame them and wish them safety and comfort through this time. But they took their website down. They were getting so many threats, and so much anger.

So while a big Fuck You to the world wouldn't be Christ like indeed, it's all I got.

While the picture above isn't Christ like, what's in my heart overall is. I've got it written on my heart that I want people who didn't do the deed to go unharmed, in as much as possible, as our nation faces its options...

I know there will be innocent people who will get hurt, who are being hidden behind by the perps, there will be bombs or strikes that will probably kill kids. But I think that overall people here who are minding their own business... living their lives, I have no issue there.

He wrote me back understanding my feelings. He's been examining pacifism over the last several months, and this incident is pushing him to rework his stance on many issues and actions. He wants us all to weigh Justice with Vengance and come out on the right side, in the best and least harmful path. I pretty much agree. But we've lived that way for quite some time now. No one takes this nation seriously as a power with which to be reckoned. And it's time to stand up instead of being blown up.

I told him that since I had kids a lot of those sentiment have slipped away in my life. The desire to have goverment pay to support people here to do nothing... and the feeling that our military is unnecessary. Once I had kids though, I wanted that strong army. I wanted people to get off the dole and get to work, just like me. I may soften some of my stances as I age, become more passive, but for now, I know what I believe and hope my government can protect me and my kids while I work to support me and my kids. Do their job so I can do my job.

He hasn't written back.

I've gotten some really rude emails, and some that are so stupid. But I'm not making a federal case out of anything. I just delete them and move on. My mother in law often told me when she disagreed with me "You're entitled to your incorrect opinion." And she'd leave it at that.

My friend has a point though. I won't be quick to be rude, or stupid like Jerry Falwell and err on the "holier than thou" end of things (what a dope he is... ugh). Henceforth I will try and be more... Christlike. I won't run around with a "we're going to go ninjitsi on your ass!" attitude (not that I was in the first place). I promise I won't lose my edge, which I was born with thanks to the location of my birth, but I will be a little more careful. And I'm hoping everyone who knows me well will let me know if I'm doing a good job.

Thankful for good music

I was driving in to work today, and I haven't tuned into a music station since last Friday on my way home from work. In the morning I usually listen to the local Boston News Station, WBZ 1030 AM to get headlines and traffic. I listen to the traffic reports so I can laugh, because my commute takes me through the back woods of towny New England rich towns, past golf courses, through woods... it is quite pastoral, and I enjoy listening to reports of traffic being backed up beyond the tolls on the Tobin Bridge.

In the afternoons I usually listen to Howie Carr on the way home unless he's being just too stupid for words. Mondays he has on one of the senior hot-shots from TV guide, Max Robins, so that's always fun to listen to.

So since Friday, there hasn't been music on in the car.

This morning I got in to drive and just didn't want to listen to the news anymore. They weren't going to tell me anything new. Right now we're playing the collective waiting game as a nation to see if our government is going to make a really big parking lot out of the middle east, or, they find some people alive in the rubble someplace. The latter isn't going to happen anytime soon.

So I put on the FM stations to listen to music. They must have heard the playlist I needed in my heart. I heard Bruce Cockburn, Counting Crows, BNL (oh you know it's my favorite!) and U2 singing "Beautiful Day."

I'm a pretty big U2 fan, as you've seen in past entries on my experience in the southwest, but I didn't think I'd ever want to hear this song again:

The heart is a bloom
Shoots up through the stony ground
There's no room No space to rent in this town
You're out of luck And the reason that you had to care
The traffic is stuck And you're not moving anywhere

You thought you'd found a friend
To take you out of this place
Someone you could lend a hand In return for grace

It's a beautiful day
Sky falls, you feel like
It's a beautiful day
Don't let it get away

...

You love this town Even if that doesn't ring true
You've been all over And it's been all over you
It's a beautiful day Don't let it get away
It's a beautiful day
Touch me Take me to that other place
Teach me I know I'm not a hopeless case

See the world in green and blue
See China right in front of you
See the canyons broken by cloud
See the tuna fleets clearing the sea out
See the Bedouin fires at night
See the oil fields at first light

And see the bird with a leaf in her mouth
After the flood all the colors came out

...

What you don't have you don't need it now
What you don't know you can feel it somehow
What you don't have you don't need it now
Don't need it now ...

I felt like screaming SCREAMING the end. What you don't have you don't need it now. Lifting my hands up. Offering the situation to the Lord. Asking him to take it. Giving him dominion over it all. And it is also kind of a prayer for the people who have lost so much over the past few days. Let it go. Let him or her go. Let the whole damn thing go.

So once I got into the office I realized just what I needed. I needed music. Not the crap played on the radio. Not the crap my officemates play at their desks. REAL music. Loud music. Music that kicks. Music with a pulse generated from hands against instruments instead of drum machines and remixed stolen bits of other people's talent.

I am listening to my MP3 collection right now and so much of what I love is forever changed just in the past 2 days. So many songs are different from here on in... this is my soundtrack for today.

• Jim Infantino singing to me "Somewhere over NYC"
• Indigo Girls doing Paul Simon's "America's Tune,"
• October Project's "Dark Times"
• Stevie Ray's version of "Little Wing"
• Monty Python's "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life" (listening to that right now. Now that's an edifying, soul lifting song. I'm laughing my ass off right now. The end of the song cracks me up, when Eric Idle is saying, "you come from nothing, you return to nothing. what do you lose? nothing! now give us a smile you buggah!)
• Fell on Black Days, Soundgarten
• No woman, no cry -- Bob Marley
• REM - End of the world as we know it
• Master of Puppets, Metallica
• Let the Day Begin, by the Call... that's a great anthem for us all to just get out there and sing at the top of our collective lungs.
• U2's 40 (I waited patiently for the Lord, he inclined and heard my cry... he brought me up out of the pit, out of the mirey clay. i will sing, sing a new song...)
• The night they drove ole dixie down... by the band.

My playlist is about as all over the map as my emotions are right now. From Metallica to Bob Marley, I'm swinging between euphoria and absolute rage.

Seeing the presence of God in the hands of the workers, the volunteers; and the darkness and hatred toward the Islamic terrorists and how I just want us to wipe the region off the map. How can I balance these and come up with good, righteous anger?

more later. I need to get some work done.

It was a long night last night...

I left work early. I wanted to get home before Jessica because I didn't want her to turn on the TV and catch any news. I didn't get home before her, but, in only a world where Jessica lives she managed to turn the TV on and immediately switch it via remote to Cartoon Network and she didn't hear word one about what was going on. So she was oblivious when I broke the news to her.

Her response: "Let's kick their asses now!"

Uh, that's not what I expected from her. She was kind of joking around about revenge and bombing the crap out of "them." I told her it is hard to do when we don't know where "they" are hiding or even to some degree which "they" they are.

I don't think any of this has sunk in, nor is she taking it seriously. I tried to explain to her that in life sometimes things happen that you'll never forget where you were or how old you were. I'll never forget the Challenger explosion. I'll never forget John Lennon's murder. I'll never forget the US Hockey Team beating the Soviet Union in the Olympics. My mom's generation will never forget where they were when JFK was assassinated. Before her birth, Pearl Harbor was the standard of measurements. Where were you when you heard...

I told her this was her Pearl Harbor. It will change the way her country and her fellow citizens act. It will change the way people look at one another. It will change all of us whether we want to or not.

We talked about it for about 20 minutes, then Doug came home and turned the TV on so he could see the situation. And we all watched it. She thought the plane hitting the WTC tower looked cool, and if it was a Hollywood special effect, yes, it would have been "cool." But it is so real. So real. And I don't think that has sunk in yet for her.

I'm numb from watching that plane over and over again, and numb from watching the towers crumbling, the soot and dust and debris flying down the streets. That's my city. That's a part of my life there. What!

Tonio K. once sang that New York is a "filthy concrete bitch without a soul," and I often laughingly agreed as a biter, sarcastic, jaded former child of the area. But over the 24 hours the bitch's soul has revealed itself. She has been tested. She is rising to the ocassion in the form of heroes and volunteers. This is just astounding, and I'm not sure I'll ever be able to look at the city again the same way.

I included the picture above because it makes me LAUGH! I find it amusing and absurd and am honestly laughing when I look at that. Those are English words, right? I recognize them, I speak them, I say them aloud. They make sense on their own. Put them together though and ... they just do not register. They do not compute. New York City never closes to traffic or anything else for that matter. How is New York City CLOSED. This boggles my feeble little mind and shakes my soul.

I mean, it's one thing to drive down the highway and see one of those orange and black light-up signs saying an exit/ramp is closed. Something like "Exit 34 is Closed Seek Alternate Route." Or even what we have now in Boston. Massport has a sign up saying "Logan Airport is Closed." That's hard to believe, but that happens once in a while. Weather usually is the culprit. But NEW YORK CITY??? Closed. Closed to Traffic. Man. I have to shake my head two or three times to clear it and let those words fly around inside. Closed.

"I wanna wake up in a city that doesn't sleep, to find I'm King of the Hill, Top of the Heap..."

That sign is all the way the hell in Buffalo. Buffalo. They're giving motorists a lot of notice.

I wonder what is going to happen to all the trucks trying to get to Long Island to deliver goods to the stores. I wonder what is happening for commerce trying to get through to that area so it can procede to other areas. I think it's going to be messed up for a while.

---

Speaking of being messed up for a while, I know people who think they have lost someone in NYC. I know my mom is exposed to kids who may have lost one or both of their parents, who as of yesterday afternoon had no idea where their folks were. They are going to ache for some time to come.

My sister says she feels "uncomfortable in her skin," sort of the same way she felt when she came out of the theatre after seeing "Seven" with Brad Pitt and Morgan Freeman. She feels completely revulsed, completely ill. I feel nauseous, as if I am coming down with the flu. I feel like I have a fever, but I don't. I feel like I'm going to puke any second now. I think I'm going to feel this way for a while.

Stories are coming out of the rubble that folks are being found alive. A man rode the building collapse down from the 82nd floor of one of the towers. Like surfing a wave. These stories of unbreakable survival usually make me smile, I feel excited, happy for these people who make it. But I know there are thousands under them, crushed or slowly starving or dehydrating, who may be alive in a pocket of air right now, but won't be for long... and that takes my breath away and makes me shake.

A friend of ours sent an email last night out to all of his friends and relatives. I thought I'd include it here to share with you. It expresses some of what I'd hope to share with you all. I don't know how many people read this journal, probably just a handful of folks and most of you I know... I doubt there are strangers out there who discovered my journal in its listing on diarist.net ... I never get any feedback from strangers. Most of you who have written me in the past few months are friends. So I have no fear in letting you know, dear reader, that I love you.

Here's from "Smitty." It says what I want you to know... And I'll leave it at this for now and try to get some work done. I love you all.

"I've sent a similar letter to my family. Now I'm sending a letter to my friends. It's tough after a day like this to find something positive to say. It's still very shocking.

I took a walk on City Island this afternoon... with a friend whom is receiving this as well. For those of you who don't know what City Island is, it's an Island in the middle of the Susquehanna River that's very active and geared towards family entertainment. The Harrisburg Senators (minor league baseball team) play there as well. The sky was blue with a few clouds. It wasn't too hot today. From the Island you can see the Harrisburg skyline. And there's a walking bridge linking the Island to downtown Harrisburg. On a typical day that bridge is filled with people rollerblading, people walking their young children in baby carriages, young couples simply taking a walk, and business men and women returning to or coming from work. Looking north you can see up the river with mountains on either side. It is a very pleasant view. And while I obviously could find something positive on this day, this beauty is one that I take advantage of. I take for granted that nothing will ever happen to my place.

"Sadly it could, as we all found out today.

"I feel the need to embrace the things that I love. I also feel the need to embrace the people I love, too. And please know that I do love all of you. You all mean something to me and have somehow impacted my life in one way or another. In a positive way. Thank you. I love you all. And I'll talk to all of you soon I'm sure.

"Love, Smitty"

This is not amusing. Not amusing at all.

Do you have any idea how freaked out I am right now???
You do. Because you are equally freaked beyond belief. Am I wrong?

---

Every day I wake up and totally take for granted that today is going to be just another day where I go to work... I make webpages, I hang with friends, I talk about current events, I go home, I eat dinner, I watch TV and I go to bed.

Perhaps my kids will do something to irritate me. Perhaps I will find nothing but joy with them. This morning started out sweet. Geoff got in my bed while Doug was getting ready and we shared a mom boy moment where we beeped each others' noses and laughed and had a lot of fun. It actually crossed my mind while he was there twisting the tip of my nose with his fingers that I love stuff like this and don't ever want it to end.

There is a little light in the back of my mind that gives thanks daily, like all good Episcopalians do, but it's a little nod to the Big Man. Not any sort of weeping thanks or gushing praise. Just a smile to Him to say, hey... thanks for what's good in my life.

There was probably a parent who works in New York or the Pentagon who had similar feelings about his or her life this morning.

They went to work, thinking much of the same stuff as I have listed above. The good old go in, do stuff, come home kind of routine.

But perhaps that person is now dead after what has happened here.

At 9 am I was reading Boston.com when the site went down. I went to a non-news site and it loaded like lightning. One of my coworkers popped her head in and told me a plane had crashed into the World Trade Center. Then another coworker came in while we were talking and said another plane had crashed into it.

We tried to get news on websites, but none of them would load. Someone in the office was listening to the radio and confirmed that all sorts of shit was going down. We all decided to go to the fitness center because they have cable tv down there.

They had three TVs going with three different stations. They were showing close up and wide view angles of the two most recognizable structures in the American skyline consciousness. Both buildings belching smoke, flames, gaping holes, and a city behind them wondering what the hell just happened.

I started to hyperventilate and had to leave the room.

See, I'm from New York. As much as I hate to admit it, I grew up with the television news showing me the skyline every day from sweeping glorious angles. I remember the buildings when they were being constructed. Early in my relationship with Doug I took him to the top of one of the buildings and we have a cute picture of us, both skinny hippy kids with crazy hair (Doug had on a pink tyedye Grateful Dead shirt) and we were cute and young.

I'm incredibly disturbed by this event, on so many levels, but the one that is tearing my heart out is that I have only been up there a handfull of times, and, I never took my kids.

I prefer the observation deck of the Empire State building for the view because it is smack in the middle of midtown. But the WTC was so cool. It was so tall. You felt like you were the statue of liberty yourself, looking out onto the ocean and then behind you having the land of opportunity.

When all this intitally happened and other shit started going down, like the plane crashing at the Pentagon and at Camp David, I was even more freaked out. But when the first tower in NY actually collapsed, sending debris for blocks, that's when I started to really freak out over here.

It began to dawn on me that this piece of my life, this corner of my memory is vanishing. Then the second one fell. All I could think of was the NYC news opening segments, with the swooping vistas of the glorious city. All that will have to be reshot. Sans Twin Towers. And on top of that, hundreds of people dead and hundreds in peril at the base of the complex. They're all trapped on an island that is literally impossible to escape from once shit like this goes down.

So that's upsetting enough, but, what has me super fucked up here is that I never took my daughter up to see the view.

I had always taken for granted that those two buildings would be there. That has me totally upset. We've had many an opportunity, don't get me wrong. We've taken Jessica to the city. We just usually leave it to last on the thing to do and either find the place has just closed (like 11pm) or she's to damn dogshit tired after we've run her around NYC. So she'll never get that view. Never see that angle. Never notice how beautiful New York harbor is from the bottom end of the island.

And I have to get through the rest of the day here. I'm stressed and worried about what is going to happen next. It's almost 1pm now and things have kind of calmed down a bit. I haven't checked the news in about an hour because Deb had us pull up Oracle and look up emergency contact numbers on about 50 people from all of our company currently traveling in the USA. Some were on American Airline flights, we just have to figure out where to and when, and if they are okay. So we looked everyone up, and half of them don't even have a fucking home number listed so we can't call a spouse or something in inquire on their whereabouts or whether or not the employee has checked in. I can't believe people would be that negligent.

Can you IMAGINE this shit. I mean, look at this guy in the tie screaming his fucking HEAD off. Oh MY GOD. How horrible is this? Just walking to work, gonna get a coffee, then this plume of smoke and debris comes rolling down the lane after a rocking explosion? This is the stuff of Hollywood. This is like a movie. This is just unfuckingreal.

Anyway, I'm going to take a short walk, breathe, and find out what's going on next. I'm sure tonight I'll be soaking in the evening news, trying to figure all this out, and I'll have more to say tomorrow. But for now, I'm not amused.

Football Season Is Here!

I love football.

I love football season. It helps the bulk of the winter pass by quickly, it is fun to spend long dark Sunday afternoons in the livingroom eating munchies, looking at the tube for hours on end, intermittently doing things like dishes and laundry when games are total blowouts or when they're doing a lot of gab between games. I love football.

It's too bad that NFL stands for No Fucking Luck for both my favorite teams, the Patriots and the Steelers. Patsies and Lerrrrrrrrrs this year. Oh well, guess I've gotta route for Denver. They've got a cute QB.

The season got its big kickoff with a little gathering of friends at Hoagie's house this weekend up in New Hampshire. Dan, Derek, Doug, Geoffrey and I were there, as well as a surprising addition of another former co-worker and his wife. Dan2 never comes out. But he was there and it was super to see him. I haven't seen him since I left the IT department at the college over 2 years ago.

We were harassed by flies while out of doors, so the party moved inside and football was consumed with baseball in picture in picture technology on Hoagie's 8,000 inch TV (damn!). We had lots of fun and I was pooped.

Hoagie has a really nice house. I mean, really, really nice. Interior -- immaculate. Lovely. Clean. New carpet. White walls. It made me sick. Sick, sick, sick. And it made me long for a day when I'll have a house that isn't a frigging pigsty, where any small effort I make is matched by the efforts of others, and we live in perfect harmony.

I, too, would like something nice to live in. Our place in Atlanta was nice, but we had no furniture, so we sat on sleeping bags on the fucking floor to watch our 13 inch TV. Things got better but more cluttered in Beverly, where we at least had a used couch, and the girl was too little to do any damage to anything. Plus, she never did anything bad anyway. When we lived in Marblehead, we did our own home improvement, and that was a big mistake. Nothing matched... the best room in the house was the livingroom, it was a gorgeous pink color with sandy white woodwork. I loved that room. The best decorated room we've ever had. Lynn was okay, but the interior was there when we got there and was sort of, New England Italian, if you know what I mean, with an ugly assed rug (brown poo colored) and really ugly linoleum in the hall, bath and kitchen.

Every surface in my house is in ruin. Walls have been colored on by my budding artiste Geoffrey, even though we got him a chalkboard to write on when he needs to do vertical art. I have to repaint his room, repaint Jessica's room, repaint my room... none of this is very endearing, especially when we thought he was done with this phase of life. Last week he took pen and wrote all over Jessica's wall. He likes to draw these faces, which are hysterical, and I love them, I just don't love them on the walls!

I wanted to redo Jessie's room anyway. Just didn't want to do it anytime soon.

Our house has a lot of potential. But I get the feeling we've run out of steam and we just can't do that. We're a million years away from having it all right and put together, but I get the feeling that while we have the boy under our roof it'll be a complete pit forever.

Anyone want a kid?

Kidding. I love my son. I just dislike some of his canvas choices for his self expression.

---

Remember my new washing machine? The washing machine which kicks ass and makes me sing childhood songs? Well, it almost died a horrible death last night. Let me 'splain. Jessica was sent downstairs with the equivalent of four loads of laundry. I instructed her to sort out the darks from the whites, to wash all of daddy's and my clothes in cold water cold rinse, and to wash all the whites in hot water. She told me she understood what I meant, and went down to wash.

Later, I went down to put the clothes in the dryer and saw that there was no sorting done, there were no clothes even visible which could mean only one thing. I could smell and awful rubbery burning stench. Kind of an engine burning aroma which means only bad things in the mind of a home owner.

She had put all four loads of laundry into the washer. All four. And, on top of that, used about 10 cups of laundry detergent.

Aw man. All I could see was me lying to the Whirlpool repair guy saying "Honest man, no one overloaded the washer. Three towels and some underpants isn't overloading!" So I pulled all the laundry out of the washer, got the manual out, read about how it has an auto shutdown over-ride feature where the machine will turn itself off if it feels it's overloaded. So obviously my machine had the common sense to cease trying to wash 900 lbs of laundry.

I should have guessed something was wrong when the lights in the house were flickering. That usually means there is some sort of wicked power surge going on. We'd once had that problem when my upstairs tenant and I were blowdrying our hair at the same time or something. Come to find out the electrical wiring up on the phone pole had been chewed at by some small critter and our source wiring was exposed, so power was leaking out into the ether and not making it to our house. I had started to think last night that it was happening again. Only this time, instead of a small furry creature chewing maniacally at our wiring it was a large blonde creature trying to save time by doing all the wash at once.

So my daughter got "spoken to" which means I sat her down, explained what she did, asked her what she was thinking, and I sat there, waiting for her answer.

The always popular "I don't know" was what I got from her, with her grey eyes staring back at me from her tired face. "I don't know." Obviously she was thinking SOME thing at the time, or else she wouldn't have done it. I asked her if she was temporarily insane or possessed by demons from the underworld. She shrugged. I basically told her to go to bed.

I think she prefers being yelled at instead of the cold, hard "just go to your room, I can't bear to talk to you right now" thing. It made her cry.

Sometimes, and I hate to admit this, sometimes I think it is important with her to hit on something emotional. She lets so much slide off her back and doesn't really express any anger until an inappropriate time. She really internalized Missy's euthanasia and didn't deal with it until much later. So I was actually pleased to see that she recognized that she screwed up, and didn't just shrug and say "Whatever."

We talked about it later after the washer engine cooled down. I went into her room and she didn't want to talk to me, but I told her the machine was okay and reminded her never to do it again, and, that I loved her.

Never go to bed angry.

Anyway... this turned out to be a longer post than I had anticipated. I have to see how badly Scott C is kicking my A at Fantasy Football in our Yahoo.com league (like I said, I love football) and see how our online Office Pool standings are doing. And, I have to go home to see if Geoff's writing on anything that will fit in the washing machine.

ant infestation...

The weekend was a washout. Not because of weather, but because the good graces didn't smile upon us or our happy circle of friends with great luck. No. Not at all.

Aaron and Michelle were supposed to come visit. They dropped their transmission on their car. Seeing as they are all the way the heck up in Maine, and it was like Friday Night, we couldn't get ourselves together fast enough to get up there nor would we. They (A&M) had barely been at their house all summer, seeing as they were living out at Mount Desert Island while working with the parks service at Acadia, so they had kind of a messy house which needed some love and attention.

So we all opted to reschedule. Sadly.

Pictured above is Mr. Aaron himself, at his finest; a most intelligent, kind and loving rendering of him I think. HA! Aaron sent me this picture when I was grieving for Missy. He called me on the phone and said "Hey, check your email, I sent you something that will make you smile." The file name was something like "Tree.jpg" so I was not at all prepared for this. I actually laughed my ass off and started crying at the same time. Here's a guy who knows how to cheer a girl up!

That's a true friend.

Back to the story.

As you know,Geoff had a fever and was sent home from preschool Thursday... remember, we lost out on tix to the Pats/Deadskins pre-season game? Thinking this was your textbook little stomach bug, we (Doug) brought him home and rode the day out with him sleeping. That night he got ill (as in puking but no further details are necessary there... lucky for the babysitter we didn't abandon him with G-puke after all!) and I spent the night sleeping with him. Friday he was listless, we figured that was par for the course, and I waited to come down with whatever stomach bug he had.

He doesn't have one. He has an ear infection... come Sunday morning he was all crying and pulling his left ear and complaining that he couldn't yawn. So we got him to the doctor (thanks Dr. Barrett!) and got a prescription for amoxicillin. 48 hours later he's a new boy.

I think we would have been a whole ton of no fun at the way out inn if A&M had managed to come visit us. Geoff pretty much just walked around whimpering, and it was sad.

We did however get a closet cleaned out and organized books to take to the 2nd hand store. The closet is going to be a home entertainment center. We have to build in shelving and make it rock. I'm looking forward to that day.

I felt inspired after clearing out the closet. Empowered. Charged up.

I tore a fence out of the yard because of it.

We have a couple of old ratty white picket fences that are about 2.5 feet high, and they are so damn trashy looking. Doug refers to them as "shabby chic," but that's such a load of horseshit. They look like crap.

So I have been trying to convince him that one of the fences, the one over by the creek, had to go. I want to pull out the hydrangea, cut out the evil grapevine that actually has grown all up and around all the trees around our neighborhood (no lie) and cut back the tendrils on the black raspberries and blueberries.

That area is such a waste back there. It could be SO nice.

So Doug moaned and complained and said "we'd" do it later in the fall.

He went inside.

I started yanking on the fence. It pretty much came right the heck out, the total piece of shite that it is. He initially pretended to be hurt. Pretended is the key word. I didn't take him at all seriously when he protested. He whimpered like I was taking his teddybear away or something. Turns out he really was kind of angry with me. He let me know after I was completely done that he really did like that fence and he was hurt that I just dispatched it the way I did. I basically told him he was in need of counseling. I'm sick of living in a place that looks like it is half falling down. And my proactivity probably just shamed him.

I told him to get over it and move on.

I went back outside and all that was left was the bottom of the fence. I pulled it out and the whole thing was infested with ants. Crazy loaded with black maniacally scrambling ants!

I almost leaped out of my skin.

I didn't expect to see the wide Ant Diaspora of 2001 in my yard. An exodus caused by my hand. With creepy results!

I ran in the house to see if we had any Raid or anything. Doug shrugged and said to just pull the fence away and cart it out to the woods, chuck it out there before the ants could regroup and invade, thus eating us alive in our sleep as revenge.

In other words, "No, Ms. Stupid-ass For Pulling My Shabbychic Fence Down, we are out of Raid."

So I pulled all the parts of the fence together, threw them in the wooden cart, hauled them into the corner of the yard and chucked them all, piece by dreaded ant-covered piece, into the woods. I walked back around under the tree area, and pulled all the pieces back even further, just so they weren't visible from the yard or I would be sitting on the deck looking at broken nasty pieces of wood fence simply teeming with ants, thinking they were on their way to an organizational meeting on how to meet out their revenge by chewing me from head to toe in my sleep.

Shudder.

So now the fence is out. I've got some hacking and bushwhacking to do to clean the area out. I feel like it will be nice to have just a tad more yard to look at instead of something "shabby chic."

Not much else to report from this angle. I'll let you know if my sugar bowl is full of crawling little fiends later. Ugh. Shudder!