Premature Pink

April is always yellow. But I have been feeling fuscia (sorry blogger has no fuscia)for a couple days. I can't help myself. Maybe I am just excited for pink to come or maybe it's the cusp of pink I am experiencing. No matter, I am compelled to change my CSwR picture now.

I had never heard of synesthesia until a year or so ago. I thought everyone connected colors, sounds, numbers and months together. I began studying about synesthesia in earnest when I had to write a research paper for school. I think I may be a pseudo-synesthete. That is, I began relating all those things together as a child. So I am not sure if I am a genetic synesthete or not. All I really know is that I can't use a pink highlighter anymore because it's too loud. It sounds like a cross between a tuba and a trumpet and it instantly made me tense. It's no wonder I hated Healthcare Ethics so much. Even my psychology book made me agitated.

I know it's early but happy pink! er... May!

X Marks the Spot

This is the future home of a maple tree. To it's right will be it's companion. To it's left will be a beautiful weeping cherry. Four flowering pear trees will stand like sentries on the cherry's left, ready to block the afternoon sun.

No longer will my yard be a barren wasteland. It's a blank canvas and the trees are my first strokes of what I hope to be our own Garden of Eden. Me being Eve, of course.

Victoria Stilwell

Dog Trainer

or Dominatrix?



And really... does it matter???

Divided By Four Hundred and Eighty

If I do 10 a day, I will be done by June 13th at about 5pm. That's just in time to run to the gas station in my backyard and grab a 6 pack.

What I Have Now that I Didn't Have 4 Hours Ago....

6 college credits!

Gina? Oh Gina???!!!!

Your Slogan Should Be

Nina. It's What's for Dinner.

The Slogan Generator

Visual Aids Help Support Your Position

I think I've made my point.

I won't go into why I have such a phobia or how I got it. You can find some back ground here.

Last week when my teacher began talking about the presentation we all had to give about our term papers I had decided I was going to quit school. No joke. He said for the next 2 years we would be expected to do this over and over and over. Suddenly I couldn't breathe, my fight or flight response kicked in and the crazy screaming woman in my head" began in earnest.

Last night was my turn. The Ethics of Testing and Screening. GOOD GOD! I had spent the last week refusing to talk about it because of some weird unknown fear that it would decrease even further my ability to do it. I wouldn't even tell Gina when I had to give it because I didn't want her to be thinking about it when I was doing it. Somehow it would cause some sort of harmonic disturbance. Ask her. She knows first hand how bad it is.

I rose from my seat, walked to the podium...

and nailed it.

I didn't shake. I didn't flush. I used hand gestures. I spoke without reading my notes. My voice stayed strong. And I made eye contact with each and every person in the room. I even managed to tell a joke.

When I sat back down. My only thought was, "What the HELL just happened?"

Now don't get me wrong, I did go someplace private aferward and do the big shoe dance. I gave myself a moment.

But I really am feeling a bit at a loss. Who am I? It's as if I have a very distorted perception of myself. Not at all unlike an anorexic. It has left me unsettled and feeling as if I have a lot of work to do with regards to who I think I am.

ps. the last visual aid was a bit gratuitous in nature but we all deserve a naked woman now and then...

Good Morning Sunshine

That is what I wake to every morning. Every morning my sweetheart sends me a love letter. Not the quick "kiss kiss" letter of reassurance but a real love letter. It's poetry. It's love making at it's finest. It leaves me breathless and wordless. I stumble like an idiot trying to answer but it's like trying to answer Amy Lowell after you read Aubade. What do you say? Awkwardly, I wish her a good morning and send my love and hope she knows how much I love her.

Good Morning Sweetheart... I love you too!

Addicted

I have become a 2 pack a day sucker.

No Other Acceptable Option

I have never felt the same level of panic as I did the day I found out Nicole was sinking deep into the drug scene. She had already experienced a huge personality change which I mistakenly thought was "normal" teenage behavior. I was preoccupied and I blame myself for not catching it early.

June 2006 - I came out to my husband. And he made it clear that I was going to be the one to leave. Which was fair. I never disagreed with that. I was about to become a single mother, for the second time in my life.

July 2006 - The ugly truth about what Nicole had been doing came to light. I began investigating and everywhere I turned there was evidence of her cheating, sneaking and lying. My heart sank. What was I going to do? How was I going to keep her safe? Get her away from the crowd and address her drug problems. AND do it alone? My mind was on overdrive. I kept hitting on a thought about her going to live with her father in Utah and it would horrify me. I wouldn't be able to breathe and I would shove it out of my mind. But kept going back to it. I picked up the phone to call her dad. Everyday since then I have carried an ache in my heart. It felt surreal. Talking to him about her living there. Unimaginable, impossible. I had lived with her for 14 years. How do I just stop? He was agreeable to the change. But he told me if she left, I couldn't change my mind. Change my mind? God... I would rather cut my own arm off than let her go. But I was scared. It wasn't "just" pot and a few beers.

August 2006 - I held her close for over an hour as we sat on the floor of the airport. I said "I love you" more that day than I had in the 6 months prior. I remember the last place my fingers touched her as I pulled away from the line. She smelled almost like she did when I snuggled her as a baby. And then she was gone.

April 2008 - There is a lot of "this happened and that happened" since then. But today I got to spend the day with her. She hates me for "getting rid of her". I have tried to explain to her that I didn't know what else to do. I couldn't keep her safe in a two parent household let alone try to do it on my own. I couldn't afford to make a mistake. I had to come face to face with the truth. I wasn't the best parent for her care. I told her that I hoped she would understand someday. Find a way to forgive me. Perhaps one day she will see that I had no other acceptable option.

Revelry not Resignation

This house.



How do I explain this house?

It has represented so many things to me.


It was a place to "put" the lesbian. When I no longer fit in my white picket fence facade I had to be put somewhere.

It was my lifesaver. It broke my freefall. It was my "well, at least..." place.



A space for me to finally live in my own skin.

It was a half-way house. A place to be "until". My lover told me she would never live in a place like this. Suburbia. Lower class. She couldn't breathe here. I came to hate my house. It stood between me and my girlfriend. It chastized me. It reminded me everyday that my life was not up to expected standards. I HATED it. I disconnected from it. I ignored it. I didn't care if my grass was ugly. I didn't care that my tree was dead. I wasn't going to be here for long or so I thought. My life was taking me elsewhere.


Forward from there, over the bridge that spans a swiftly running river.


I planted flowers today. In the empty bed out front. For weeks that space has felt naked. Empty. And for the first time, it bothered me. I stepped back to look at the bed after finishing and my heart filled with wholeness. Of belonging. I was home.

To quote Garrison Keillor:

"Some luck lies in not getting what you thought you wanted but getting what you have, which once you have got it you may be smart enough to see is what you would have wanted had you known. "

She drives me to distraction (My girlfriend that is, not Chaka)

Needs Clever Caption:

Who Died?

taken from "funny moments in the nina household"

My daughter Hannah walked into the room and looked at the tv. Fox News has turned into Pope TV today. She stood looking at the pomp and circumstance and asked,

"Who died mom?"

I looked at the screen filled with His Holiness and said,

"Well it started with Jesus."

The Wrong Kind of Crazy

Fred Meyer just rolled out their $4 drug plan. Wal-mart has had it for a while. Such a relief to so many people who struggle to pay for meds they need. Unfortunately, as I peruse the list I notice 2 drugs NOT on the lists. Mine.

After my "non-existent" nervous breakdown last November the Drs changed my meds drastically. It literally saved my life. I will do whatever I can to keep myself on these meds. Even going into debt. One thing I have learned and I have said before, you don't fuck with crazy.

Pepperoni Well Done, Light Sauce and Pineapple... NOW!

I have had two research papers to do in the last 6 weeks. Our instructions were simple, pick anything out of your text books and write about it. My Psychology paper was a snap. Talk about crazy people, easy... I'm a crazy people! Talk about something interesting, easy... I am the most interesting person I know! We all know I love talking about myself.

Then came my Ethics paper. Not.so.easy... Somehow it went from the cost benefit ratio of health screenings to Eugenics. HOW DID THAT HAPPEN???

I can see how thesises never get finished. How PhDs are never attained. I just want to pass my frickin' class!

To make up for this rambling piece of dead tree I thought I would throw in the DVD Gattica with hopes my teacher, Professor Terwilliger's attention will be diverted to Uma Thurman and will just let my paper go.

Oh and the pizza? My hunger hurts me.

While She's Away

Often we pine for each other as we drift off to sleep with the phone pressed against our cheeks. Whispers of "I miss falling asleep in your arms" have been my refrain since the first night away from her. She suprised me with the coolest present! It is intended to "hold her place" while she is gone. She used the shirt she wore on our first date when we were given the blessing of the Goddess. How cool is this thing?! It's stuffed perfectly down through the arms and creates that wonderful place I like to lay my head. Right in the crook of her arm just above her breasts. I lay there and listen to her heart beat as we match our breathing to each others so our bodies ebb and flow together.

It's my very own Butch Body Pillow! Tonight I am putting on her jammies she left me last time. They still smell like her... gosh I miss her so very much.

Azure and Gold

April had covered the hills
With flickering yellows and reds,
The sparkle and coolness of snow
Was blown from the mountain beds.

Across a deep-sunken stream
The pink of blossoming trees,
And from windless appleblooms
The humming of many bees.

The air was of rose and gold
Arabesqued with the song of birds
Who, swinging unseen under leaves,
Made music more eager than words.

Of a sudden, aslant the road,
A brightness to dazzle and stun,
A glint of the bluest blue,
A flash from a sapphire sun.

Blue-birds so blue, 'twas a dream,
An impossible, unconceived hue,
The high sky of summer dropped down
Some rapturous ocean to woo.

Such a colour, such infinite light!
The heart of a fabulous gem,
Many-faceted, brilliant and rare.
Centre Stone of the earth's diadem!

Centre Stone of the Crown of the World,
"Sincerity" graved on your youth!
And your eyes hold the blue-bird flash,
The sapphire shaft, which is truth.

Amy Lowell

There Is No Such Thing as "Insane"

It's a legal term. Did you know that? There is no such thing as a "nervous breakdown" either. (Psychology: A Journey, Dennis Coon, 2008) Try telling that to Natalie Wood in Splendor in the Grass.

Now with that in mind,

1) in southern and eastern Asia and West Africa, men can suffer from Koro. This is a sudden and intense fear that his penis will recede into his body. In addition to the terror this thought incites, advanced cases can cause death. Women in these areas suffer similarly with the thought of her vulva or her nipples disappearing.

2) I came home last night to find my son and 2 of his friends planning a road trip. As I sat to listen I found out that this little group has discovered their inner hobo. They have decided they want to hitch rides on trains to travel and see the country... these are 18yr olds. Later, I asked my son some questions:

"You do know that train jumping is illegal?"
Yeah he said.
"You do know that you could get thrown into jail?"
Yeah he said.
"You know I will not bail you out of jail, right?"
Yeah he said.
"You know that if you fall under a train you are dead?"
Yeah he said...



You decide.

When Life Flashes Before Your Eyes

It was cold but it was a beautiful day. I wanted to take my beloved to Idaho City to eat at Calamity Jane's. Best potato salad in the world. We were enjoying the canyon and the big bridge we were about to go over.

Half way over the bridge you can see the cut off to Atlanta. I saw a car rolling up passed the stop sign and the driver looking up the canyon. He slowed down and I kept thinking he is going to turn and look this way, of course he is, only an idiot wouldn't look left-right-left... Right at the same moment I realized that this *was* the idiot, Gina reached her hand out to the dash board and said, "Look out, he isn't going to stop!" or "He doesn't see us!" or maybe she was just remarking on what a beautiful coat I was wearing. It's kind of blurry after her hand went to the dashboard.

I put the breaks on hard but not too hard because I didn't want to skid. But then I realized that if I didn't stop NOW this idiot was toast and I would find out what it was like to have an airbag go off in my face. So I pushed down again, HARD. Two feet. The sound of the skid was deafening. For a second I entertained the thought that maybe I could steer around him but then I remembered that I was in a skid. If I went the slightest bit left or right I would slide sideways, period.

The snapshots started with her hand going to the dash. Then it was the picture of a vehicle in my path. Then the driver's side door. I didn't look at the driver because I was scared to see him die, which I guess was premature but he would have been hurt severely for certain, so I focused on the car. Driver's side passenger door, hurt but he won't die. Tire, not as much damage to my front end but god my insurance is gonna go up! Trunk-driver's side, I wonder if gas tanks really do explode? Then I braced for the hit, we were 24 inches away at the most. Suddenly he accelerated and my path was clear. I was still sliding. Then we were stopped. For a moment my mind was completely, utterly blank. My feet were still standing on the brakes, my arms still locked in a death grip on the wheel. I don't know what the hell the idiot was doing.

It's funny how a matter of 24 inches determined whether our live's would have been forever entangled in a stranger's life or we would just go have lunch.

Damn That's Sexy!!!

My friend TOD was defining sexy the other day and it set my mind to thinking. I had the pleasure of spending some time with my dearest last week. I spent it looking at her when she wasn't looking. Soaking her in. Appreciating the little things, the way she moves, the way she stands, her sounds. She says she can't cook but she got up one morning and made me the most fantastic french toast in the universe. I got out of bed to see what she was doing and stood fascinated at her standing at the stove. She even makes breakfast "butch".



It is indeed the LOOK and more... it's her french toast!

Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia

This is the fear of long words. ( http://www.phobialist.com/#H- )

Is this some kind of cruel, sick psychiatrists' joke?

Where there are dykes, there are power tools...

Gina and I have been accused of never getting out of bed. Tis true. But this visit we decided to see what "real life" outside of the bedroom would be like together. So what did we do? We built a deck! Like my grandmother always said, "You never know someone completely until you have designed and built a project with wood and power tools". We succeeded swimmingly. Well at least from my end anyway. I am not sure how Gina feels about the flow of "you mutha fucker!" streaming from my mouth as I struggled with the deck screws. She seemed to keep her sense of humor well.

The project was my brain-child. I have been promising my girls a playhouse since moving into this place. I wanted some part of my yard to be child friendly. The lawn is sparse and full of goat heads. There are no trees or flowers and of course, there is the gas station back there now. On the bright side of the gas station, it's painted red (my favorite color) and the security lights provide a nice glow in my yard at night.

Here is a photo diary of our project.

Side of the house where the only shade is to be found in the summer. Before we leveled and straightened the frame.




Beginning...




Poetry in motion!






Dykes in training? *just kidding James*









We also dug out my first flower bed...







And the finished project in all its glory!

Ya know, I just realized there are no pictures of me actually doing any of the work! I promise I *did*.

Gina, pay no attention to the fact that the gate and the house angles are not even...

Sad Separation

If anyone has an idea as to how I can keep my baby from going home today please speak now...

I will miss you sweetheart. We finished building the deck and began building our lives together. I love you.

Happy Birthday to my April Fool's Baby!

http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=7658043480767643672&pr=goog-sl

She's 9 today!