Random Thoughts

It is school picture day again! This year I have a 3rd grader and a Kindergartener...

In my house, 3rd grade looks like this:





And Kindergarten looks just like this:



It also looks as if I have dirt on my scanner... grrrrr

I am leaving tomorrow morning for a week S&R in the land of tweenage birth control. I have mixed feelings about missing this Halloween with my girls but its hard to resist a week in the arms of my love. The girls are having Halloween in the house they have always had it. Not much will change for them except I won't be there to say, "Don't eat so much candy! You'll throw up!!!". I will get to experience Trick or Treating in Maine with Mainer's kids though. Her son has some sort of bloody skeleton mask and her daughter wants to be a dead bride. I was asked to make a costume for her. I found a $9 prom dress at a second hand store and I bought a few dollars of veil stuff (thats a non-sewing girl's word) and made a veil.

(see strange picture of me modeling the thing)

The minute I put it on I couldn't breathe and I swear I had the horrible compulsion to cut my hair like Carol Brady and cook like Donna Reed. Whew, thank god I ripped it off before that could happen. Pay no attention to the mess behind me... its scarier than me in a veil.




So y'all have a happy and safe Halloween! Pictures of course, will follow true to form.

BOO!

Culture Shock

As a child I loved listening to stories from both my mom and dad about what they did and how things were when they were young. My mother would regale me with stories of Park City, Utah. Her birth place. Stories of sledding down Main Street and a homemade distillery that blew up in the basement of their home.

After my grandfather retired from mining they moved from Park City to Salt Lake City. Many stories of running away from home to the roof of the hen house, hot water bottles in bed on cold winter nights and getting ones head stuck in a cow trough thingy (thingy is a city girl's word) all in a house she called, "the house at coon chicken inn". I loved that name! Thoughts of hunting dogs treeing coons and all the romantic country trappings would race through my mind. It made for high adventure inside my little head.

I was feeling nostalgic a while back. Longing to listen to my mother tell her stories. I realized now with the Internet, one can research things so easily that it might be possible to find out a little about her environment through Google searches and such. What I found left me slack-jawed for hours.

Pictures and more here...

First off, I had never once connected the word "coon" to anything other than what I had previously stated. And growing up my parents never said anything derogatory about other races ever. But some of their language was peppered with sayings that no one would be caught dead saying now. Things like "Jewed him down." were commonly said growing up. It was a learned saying passed down from their parents and was never once thought of as anything other than its perceived literal meaning. It wasn't until I was older that I learned "jewed" didn't really mean bargain. As late as my twenties I was still calling Brazil nuts by the name my mother and grandparents before me called them. In fact, I didn't even *know* they were called Brazil nuts. Imagine my young brand new husband's shock the first Christmas we spent with his family when his wife exclaims "Oh yummy! Walnuts and Nigertoes!". Talk about slack-jawed! Then he yelled at me and the following is verbatim the conversation we had:

him: "That is NOT nice!"
me: "What's wrong? What's not nice?"
him: "You don't say that word!"
me: "What word?"
him said in a whisper: "nigger..."

I kid you not, I sat there for a moment thinking he had lost his mind. Then I started thinking about the word I had just used. All my life I had heard it as one word. Never did I hear the word "nigger" in that word. But once I pulled it apart, in the seconds to follow, I blanched. I felt extremely stupid. I felt betrayed by my family too. But mostly I was shamefully embarrassed. I tried to explain to him what I am trying to explain to all of you in blogland now. I am not sure he ever really believed me. I hope I have better luck with you all.

I had never used that word in my life. My family never used that word. Except it seems at Christmas time it was volleyed around like a ping-pong ball whenever we got out the bowl of Christmas nuts. All those years with no one ever interjecting. Unheard of by today's standards. It got me to thinking about the degrees of racism. The act of racism is blatant. There is no mistaking it. It is in-your-face there. But the language of racism can be subtle and insidious and at least in my case multi-generational. Now I admit I am one of those people who is completely fed up with the broad brush approach to Political Correctness. But I see a great importance in understanding language. Bigotry and racism passed down linguistically is still bigotry and racism. Even if we don't mean it to be.

I will again reminisce about my mother's old stories. This time though I will be humbled and even more committed to making the world a safe and equal place through my actions and my words.

Homecoming came and went...

My son chickened out of the intimate dinner in the park and chose instead the fine dining experience of IHOP. *shrug* Still, I was asked to help out by means of my camera. So without further ado.... I give you Erin and Ryan






They seemed deliriously happy as I bid them farewell. They took off for pancakes and maple syrup and I returned home to ponder where the 17 years went.

Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit!

I have been given an award! Hee!



It came from my blogging friend Boo
over at the reemerging blog Mundane Musings Boo as with many of us fell down the rabbit hole of blog blahs for a while but she is back with a new look and a new dedication to blogging. Check her out if you haven't all ready!

This is gonna be tough. I know lots of nice! Nice abounds everywhere I go... I think I will choose my friend Cate over at Sunday Dreams She has been through alot in the past year and always manages to find energy to give me gentle hugs that are always needed and always welcome. So here's to you Cate!

Thank you too Boo! (((hugs)))

nina

The Virtual Therapy Couch

I grew up in an alcoholic home. Both parents drank. Early in my life my father was also addicted to stimulants. He was a long haul truck driver. I don't really remember that because he kicked them before I was cognizant. What I do remember is his temper was sharp and scary and dark if he got angry. It was worse when he drank. He always drank. Funny though, he could also be very animated and fun as hell when he was drunk. The dichotomy between my fierce love and fear was immensely confusing, especially for a small person. That's a lie. Polarized feelings like that over one person is immensely confusing as an adult too.

My mother had a different personality. She was more subtle in her raising of me. Her anger was shown by her withdrawal of affection. If you can assign a visual to demonstrate an emotion I would say that it would look much like the ocean shore before a tsunami. They say the surf withdraws quickly and silently as if someone pulled the plug in a tub. Not much talking ever went on around my alleged infraction. It was like a game of "she loves me, she loves me not". And I hated when it was "not". I remember being sent to my room knowing I was unloved. I would roam around looking for the perfect toy, a favorite toy, one that I new would win back the love I wanted so badly. Once I found the perfect toy I would slowly open my bedroom door and sneak down the hall to the door of the living room. My parents were sitting watching tv. I was too scared to walk around the corner. Afraid of being ignored or unloved and not wanting to make myself a target of rage I would reach out around the corner with one little arm. In my hand I held the chosen toy. I would stand there quietly. And they ignored me. Sometimes I would stand there for what seemed like forever. But I never faltered. I would stay until one of them would take the toy from my hand. Instantly, I was loved again.

I have done this my entire life. Living in fear of those around me not loving me. Getting angry with me. Withdrawing affection. It has steered me in some dubious directions at times. I have always worked to make people love me. I never thought people could love me without the work. It made it impossible for me to choose friends or lovers. I figured if someone liked me then I should be grateful and try hard to keep them liking me. I never broke off friendships. No matter how horrible a friend was to me I was unable to say "enough". I would be too afraid of the withdrawal of affection/attention. Up until my first divorce I had never dumped a guy in my entire life. And I dated some real assholes. The desire to be accepted overrode everything else. Lately I have wondered if this fact had anything to do, consciously or sub-consciously with my late realization that I am gay. Perhaps I knew it was "inappropriate" to feel close to girls and knew it would result in disapproval. I remember once, feeling suddenly attracted to a friend who was camping with me. I was horrified and quickly distanced myself.

I don't know that it matters if there is a "why" behind the timing of my coming out. What does matter is that sometimes I still feel like that little girl holding out her toy. Wanting affection. Wanting friendship. Wanting love. I feel so sorry for that little girl. I wish I could tell her that life shouldn't be so hard. That losing a friend or lover, although painful, is not fatal. Not a summation of her worth. But even as I write this, I feel that little girl worried about clicking "publish post". And I wonder if I will ever heal that little girl.

Poverty is the Father of Invention ~ nina

So I have these horrible vertical blinds in my kitchen.




Horrible because they lack personality. Horrible because they break too easily with children running in and out of the door. I have wanted to change these blinds since I moved in here a year ago (omg, a *year* ago? Time flies when you're gay). I have lacked the funds to attempt to change out all the hardware and buy heavy drapes. They have to be heavy because the sun beats down on us through that window in the summer.

I began studying the hardware in earnest a week or so ago. And got a brilliant idea. I found these drapery rings with clips. I just tried them out and voila! they fit!



Now all I have to do is replace all the vinyl strips with these rings and go pick out the drapes! I would be ecstatic except I am still broke and still unsure what color these new drapes should be. I have red accessories in my kitchen which opens up to the living room which has green furniture and neutral mushroom color carpet. hummmm, this begs the question: Should my carpet match my drapes? Does yours? *grin*

and now for something completely different.....

in the words of Mainer, "well you are in a frickin desert nina..."

Powerless Against Demons

I Promised Suburban Lesbian a Picture of Neighborhood Public Art in Maine

This is Mr. Paper Mache Head with spiky plant hair... No one knows why but truly when it comes to public expression there is no "why" right?

Carry on, I am taking the girls and the neighbor to see An Arctic Tale. Enjoy your Sunday!

I interrupt this blog for another Amy Lowell moment

THE TAXI

When I go away from you
The world beats dead
Like a slackened drum.
I call out for you against the jutted stars
And shout into the ridges of the wind.
Streets coming fast,
One after the other,
Wedge you away from me,
And the lamps of the city prick my eyes
So that I can no longer see your face.
Why should I leave you,
To wound myself upon the sharp edges of the night?

Amy Lowell

Allow Me to Introduce My Ex-Husband

He is funny and smart. He is a musician with a chocolate milk voice. He is a good friend. He is a good father. He will make a good husband to some woman one day (soon, I hope). Stop by his blog and say hello if you'd like. Please take notice of his blog picture at the top... its a nina michelle original....

Operation: Homecoming

My son just came to me with a request. Please help me with my date on Homecoming...

Stay Tuned!