See? This is Good Stuff!!!

This.

Is the type of review I wish every movie reviewer could write.

It is also the reason Pajiba is the best damn movie site on the inter-tubes.

I love you guys! (and I miss you all)

Oh Dear

I am at a loss for words.

That doesn't often happen, but there are just so many ways to approach this.

I suppose one can applaud her for the sentiment of the passage. As bible verses go, it is an agreeable one. The circumstance in which one might find themselves in a position to read it, however, might negate a bit of it's effect.

Speaking of negating . . . . just a thought . . . . . if one were to be in a position to read the words, mightn't they, (the words), oh . . . . I don't know . . . . lessen the . . . . well . . . . um . . . need to be in such a position? I mean, in times that one might find oneself in that position, might bible verses not be on one's mind?

I'm just sayin' . . . . . . .

Are you sure you want to see this?



OK. but you've been warned . . . . . .











Last chance to not look . . . . . . .

Better Late Than Never?

I somehow missed Blogger Poetry Reading Day yesterday.


What do you know about Ted Hughes? I didn't know much. To me, he was always the guy who killed Sylvia Plath. Of course, that's not true, things are rarely that simple.

This year, I was gifted by a dear friend with two volumes of his poetry.

This one is from Birthday Letters. It is addressed to Sylvia, as are all but two in the collection. They are deeply personal, intimate, and occasionally disturbing. Reading some of them almost makes me feel like a voyeur, peering into the raw emotion of an intense but flawed relationship.

If you can't guess what this one says to me, you haven't been paying attention.


The Shot

Your worship needed a god.
Where it lacked one, it found one.
Ordinary jocks became gods-
Defiled by your infatuation
That seemed to have been designed at birth for a god.
It was a god-seeker. A god finder.
Your Daddy had been aiming you at god.
When his death touched the trigger.
In that flash
You saw your whole life. You ricocheted
The length of your Alpha career
With the fury
Of a high-velocity bullet
That cannot shed one foot-pound
Of kinetic energy. The elect
More or less died on impact-
They were too mortal to take it. They were mind-stuff.
Provisional, speculative, mere auras.
Sound-barrier events along your flightpath.
But inside your sob-sodden kleenex
And your Saturday night panics,
Under your hair done this way and that way,
Behind what looked like rebounds
And the cascade of cries diminuendo,
You were undeflected.
You were gold-jacketed, solid silver,
Nickel-tipped. Trajectory perfect
as through ether. Even the cheek-scar,
Where you seemed to have side-swiped concrete,
served as a rifling groove
To keep you true.
Till your real target
Hid behind me. Your Daddy,
God with the smoking gun. For a long time
Vague as mist, I did not even know
I'd been hit,
Or that you had gone clean through me-
To bury yourself at last in the heart of the god.

In my position, the right witchdoctor
Might have caught you in flight with his bare hands,
Tossed you, cooling, one hand to the other,
Godless, happy, quieted.
I managed
A wisp of your hair, your ring, your watch, your nightgown.

My Plea . . .

I'm listening to this sound track on the headphones today while I'm working, and this song came on. It struck me as extremely appropriate, considering the events of this weekend. Listen to the lyrics, it's very dammed appropriate.

And yes, I knew him before he was famous.

I'm good today.

Tuesday was Dylan's birthday, and we went to Victoria to eat and do a little shopping.

Last night, I had planned to make pork and green chili tacos, but my green chili seems to have disappeared. I made something else, which took longer, so I basically spent all night in the kitchen or on the phone.

Why on the phone? My sister called with news about Scottie. Good news. . . . stay tuned!

Any Good Thoughts Out There?

I don't believe in prayer, but I could sure use any good thoughts, or Karma, or candles, or Whatever it is you believe in.

I'm kind of a mess at the moment.

Yeah, that again.

I Got Nothing

I'm going to skip the cross country meet tomorrow for a couple of reasons. Firstly, because I'm going to drive to Houston and see Scottie. Then, instead of driving to Houston on Sunday, I can stay home and clean my filthy house, attack the pile of laundry from hell, and actually cook a meal. Second, my allergies are in full swing and spending 4+ hours outside in a field would insure me a miserable 3 or 4 days of itching, swollen eyes, mucus-ie lungs and nose, and headaches. Oh, don't worry, I'll have those anyway, but not quit as severe if I stay indoors. Thirdly, (OK - I know I said a couple of reasons, but I didn't wake up prepared to do math), the boys don't have anywhere to be on Sunday, and we can spend a day together at home for the first time since mid-August.

So where's my head these days?

McCain is a bigger douche than I ever imagined, and believe me when I say I have a huge imagination.

I am still missing Rene' a lot. It is only a couple of weeks away from one year since I ended the relationship, and I still miss her. I've seen her several times this week, and it still hurts. I still get (quite literally) weak in the knees when I see her. If there is a silver lining to all the bullshit in my life right now, it's that I simply don't have time to be overwhelmed with Rene' induced depression. Doesn't mean it's not there, mocking me from my sub-conscious, but the immediacy of the Scottie crisis and having to fit it all in between work, kids, and household responsibilities is keeping it from crushing me as it has in the past.

I finished Atonement this week, and now I'm dying to see the film. Yes, I loved it. I started Midnight's Children yesterday. It's too early to tell, but I think it might be alright. I confess, I was a little afraid of it. Have any of you read it? Or read any Rushdie for that matter?

The boys are good - Cross Country, Football, and the Fall Play are keeping us very, very busy.

Here's a little music to get you ready for the weekend - can this song really be 12 years old already? Shit, I consider this some of my "newer" music. I gotta get out more.

Happy Birthday Rene'

Today is Rene's birthday. It will be the first one in three years we haven't spent together.

Happy birthday Rene' - I wish for you peace, and that you'll find whatever it is you're so desperately looking for.

The One Where I Say Thank You

Thank you.

I didn't start this blog to bleed my heart out over a love gone wrong. I didn't start it to prop myself up emotionally, but you guys have certainly done that.

I'm better today. I had to take the boys to get books and schedules and school ID's yesterday, so I took the afternoon off. After my errands, I went home and did laundry, and housework. It was the best day I've had in about three weeks.

I enjoyed the housework. The sheer luxury of scrubbing my sink and doing laundry in the middle of the afternoon was very satisfying. I cooked a "weekend meal", then watched TV with the boys. It felt normal. That in itself is a victory.

I'll take any victory, no matter how mundane it may seem.

It has been a tough summer for me.

I am hopeful that the fall will be better for me. I know I'm not out of the woods yet on this one.

I promise I'll try to get back to regular on this blog. I haven't exactly been much of a commenter lately either. When I get like this I tend to pull back into my shell. I don't feel like I have anything worthy to say, so I don't say it. I'll try to be more diligent.

Have you ever noticed that when you're in the state that I've been in lately that every song lyric seems to fit your situation to a tee? I do.

No, I'm Not Going To . . .

But this is where my head is . . . .



Thanks for sticking with me guys. I don't think I could do this by myself.

btw - Boy, do these lyrics hit the nail on the head.

I Suck (Again, Still?)

I saw her about an hour ago.

I had to leave work to run Clinton to football practice, and on the way back to the office, there she was, at her daughter's school gym, standing by her car, a mere 30 feet or so from me as I drove by. Our eyes locked.

She looked hurt, and beautiful.

I need a Xanex. Seriously, I'm fucked up. I miss her so much I'm paralyzed.

But I can't do it again.

God help me I can't.

Two Steps Forward, One Step Back . . .

No, I'm not turning into a Paula Abdul fan.

I had one of those dreams last night. It was vivid and real. She showed up with a box of pictures from one of our trips, and it was so real to me I could feel the texture of the prints on my finger tips, I could smell the scent of her soap in my nostrils. It didn't have any of that surreal feeling that is so common in dreams, it was just the way it would happen in real life, it was awkward at first, then comfortable and yes, wonderful.

I rarely remember my dreams at all.

Very rarely.

Except for those.

I remember thinking (in the dream), I can't do this again, I can't do this again, even as I was clearly basking in the glow of her company.

I woke up and I swear I could smell her soap on the pillow next to me.

The good news is, that even a couple of months ago, that dream would have given me a miserable week.

Today, it gave me a miserable half a day.

I'll take progress however it comes.

Love Is Just Breaking Out All Over . . .

. . . . The Tubes that is!
First Jen and Bob.

Now Heather and Boxer!!!! (You can read his post here)

Wow! Just wow. Guys, I 'm thrilled, thrilled THRILLED for you.

Heather, aka Gourmet Goddess has been a regular here pretty much since I signed on.

So for four very nice people, who have found love thanks to Al Gore's invention - I give you this:

From The "Oh Great NOW You Tell Me" Files . . . .

It seems that drowning your sorrows in alcohol doesn't, in fact, help you forget them, but actually locks memories in place longer than if you didn't drink!

Researchers at the University of Tokyo concluded that ethanol -- an intoxicating agent in alcohol -- does not cause memory to decrease, as widely believed, but instead locks it in place.

Boy, you'd think I would have figured this out on my own!!! So the good news is, it's not MY fault I can't get over Rene', it's Don Henley's fault for giving me this bad advice:

You're Not Drinking Enough
lyrics by Don Henley

I can see that you haven't recovered from
the girl who let you down
And you'd sell what is left of your soul for
another go-round
You keep telling yourself she means nothing
and maybe you should call her bluff
But you don't really believe it
You must not be drinking enough
Well, the perfume she wore you can buy
down at the Five & Dime
But on some other woman
It don't smell the same in your mind
You keep telling yourself you can take it-
Telling yourself that you're tough
But you still wanna hold her
You must not be drinkin' enough
You're not drinking enough
to wash away old memories
And there ain't enough whiskey in Texas to
keep you from beggin' ,"Please, please, please."
She passed on your passion
and stepped on your pride
Turns out you ain't quite so tough
'Cause you still wanna hold her
You must not be drinkin' enough
Ay-yi-yi-yi
Ask yourself why
You still wanna hold her
You must no be drinkin' enough
Ay-yi-yi-yi, etc.......

He Did It Better

I've been bashing VD all week long here, but once again, I bow in the direction of Southern California.

Batocchio has a beautiful post that, once again, I wish I'd written.

Yeah, sure, buying a goddam Hallmark card is a sign of love, just like wearing a flag lapel pin means you're a goddam patriot, and wearing a cross makes you a Christian, and being a think tank "scholar" means you're a fucking genius like Mike O'Hanlon or Doug Feith or Dinesh D'Souza, and being George W. Bush means you're actually running the country versus Dick "Richelieu" Cheney and you're touched by the great God almighty and as infallible as bejeezus himself and just all-around, goddam fucking brilliant.

Yeah, pretty much. Go read it all, it gets better.

Happy, Well, . . . You Know

I hope each and everyone of you feel loved today, because you are. I promise you, even if the people who love you are really shitty at showing that love, they do.

I Still Hate Valentine's Day . . .

Another reason to hate Valentines Day?

All of the insipid, non-news, "news stories" that will inevitably be in every newspaper, newscast, website, or TV show.

We get it!!! February 14th!!! Day for lovers!!!!! You are too lazy to do a real story!!!


Such as:

The New York Times FRONT PAGE, above the fold has not one, but two:

In Celebration of Valentine's Day, a look at the sex life of the Tyrannosaurus Rex. (You can't make this shit up)

I Love You, But You Love Meat.


From the Houston Chronicle:

Don't Wait Guys, V-Day Is Almost Here.


Yahoo's home page has too many to list.

We get it.

It's tomorrow.

Make sure you buy some overpriced candy or flowers or Vermont Teddy Bears, or Lingerie, or jewelry.

Jewelry - You should see my mail box. Jewelry stores I've never even heard of have, apparently heard of me.

I want this week to be over. It is a painful reminder of what I don't have. Yes, that is a terrible attitude, and an unhealthy way to look at things, but there it is.

I miss Rene' and tomorrow is a stark reminder of what could have been.

I Hate Fucking Valentine's Day

Everywhere you go, everywhere you look.

Valentine's day bullshit.

Even in Fucking World Of Warcraft, there is Valentine mania.

Wake up people!!!! It is a brazen attempt to part you with your money!!!!

If you love someone and you have to wait until Feb. 14th to show it, there isn't a box of chocolate in the world that is going to fix that relationship.

That is all.

No, The Writer's Strike Has Not Affected This Blog....

A few things . . .

I am really busy at work.

A conversation with my well meaning but insensitive mother has put you-know-who in the front of my consciousness.

The dreams are back in full force.

I've been listening to music that I shouldn't.

So yes, I'm having a bit of a dark time.

It WILL pass. Please bear with me. I have been repeating my mantra all day.

I owe you:

Monday's Random Flickr Blogging

A Movie Review

At least 2 Memes

My eternal gratitude for not chastising me.

Brave Sir Robin is not feeling at all brave, but he plans on doing better. He is so not a Holiday person.

Yeah, They Wrote This Song For Me

One of those days.

Really.

Can't get her off of my mind, so I'm trying to work up some anger/indignation.

Luckily, as I was looking up some appropriate music for duel celebration of Repeal Day and Zappadan, I came across this little gem. I'd never seen this cover.


Let's just say, the lyrics speak to me.
And Damn!! Frank Zappa can play the shit out of the guitar.

But then, you knew that didn't you.

Whippin' Post

I been run down, I been lied to,
I dont know why I let that mean woman make me a fool.
She took all my money, wrecked my new car.
Now shes with one of my goodtime buddies,
Theyre drinkin in some crosstown bar.

Sometimes I feel, sometimes I feel,
Like I been tied to the whipping post,
Tied to the whipping post,
Tied to the whipping post,
Good lord, I feel like Im dyin.

My friends tell me, that Ive been such a fool,
And I have to stand by and take it baby, all for lovin you.
Drown myself in sorrow, and I look at what youve down.
But nothin seems to change, the bad times stay the same,
And I cant run.

Sometimes I feel, sometimes I feel,
Like I been tied to the whipping post
Tied to the whipping post,
Tied to the whipping post,
Good lord, I feel like Im dyin.

Sometimes I feel, sometimes I feel,
Like I been tied to the whipping post
Tied to the whipping post,
Tied to the whipping post,
Good lord, I feel like Im dyin.

Today's Task.....

My good friends D & L were in Canada skiing over Thanksgiving, and missed out on a traditional meal, so today we are all going to their house for a belated Thanksgiving feast. My task is to make a pumpkin cheesecake, (recipe below) and whatever else I choose. Since I still have an abundance of rich turkey stock in the fridge, I will probably make a pan of stuffing.

However, my main task today, and every day it seems, is to purge my mind of Rene'.

My Mantra:

I am in love with who I thought she was. It is even fair to say I am in love with who I hoped she was, who I wanted her to be. I am in love with who she could be. I am in love with who she pretends to be, and perhaps even who she wants to be.

That person does not exist.

That person is a facade, created by a careful set of lies and manipulations.

Boy, thinking it is one thing.

Saying it out loud to myself is another thing.

Seeing it written down here for the world to see is something else entirely.

I know in my heart that what I've written is true, but that doesn't make the memory of that love any less real or less bittersweet. I am deeply in love with a person that never existed. The question of whether she could be that person if she choose to be is the one thing that keeps me going back for more each time.

I'm not sure she can.

Pumpkin cheesecake

Crust

• 1/2 cup graham cracker crumbs
• 1 cup ginger snap crumbs
• 3/4 cup finely chopped toasted pecans
• 1/2 cup firmly packed light brown sugar
• 1/2cup granulated sugar
• 3/4 stick unsalted butter, melted

Press crust into bottom and a little up the sides of a 9 or 10 inch springform pan. Put in freezer at least 20 minutes. While preparing filling, pre-bake crust 10 minutes‚ at 400° and let cool.

For the filling:

• 1 1/2 cups solid pack pumpkin (fresh makes a huge difference, but it can be made with canned)
  
• 3 large eggs
• 1 1/2 t. cinnamon
• 1/2 t. freshly grated nutmeg
• 1/2 t. ground ginger
• 1/4 t. allspice
  
• 1/2 t. salt
• 1/2 c. packed brown sugar
• three 8-ounce packages softened cream cheese
• 1/2 c. granulated sugar
• 2 T. heavy cream
• 1 T. cornstarch
• 1 1/2 t. vanilla
• 3 T. bourbon

In a bowl whisk together the pumpkin, the cinnamon, the nutmeg, the ginger, the salt, and the brown sugar. In a separate bowl, beat the eggs until just mixed, then fold into the pumpkin mixture. In a large bowl with an electric mixer cream together the cream cheese and the granulated sugar, beat in the cream, the cornstarch, the vanilla, the bourbon, adding the pumpkin mixture last, and beat the filling until it is smooth. Note: do not over mix after the egg/pumpkin mixture is added. excess air whipped into the eggs will cause cracking later.

Pour the filling into the crust, bake the cheesecake in the middle of a preheated 350°F. oven for 50 to 55 minutes, or until the center is not quite set, and let it cool in the pan on a rack for 5 minutes.

For the topping:

• 2 c. sour cream
• 3 T. granulated sugar
• 3 T. bourbon liqueur or bourbon, or to taste
• 3/4 c. chopped candied pecans
  

In a bowl, whisk together the sour cream, sugar, and bourbon. Spread the sour cream mixture over the top of the cheesecake and bake the cheesecake for an additional 5 minutes. Let the cheesecake cool in the pan on a rack and chill it, covered, overnight.