love

Heart of Fool’s Gold

As the seasons change from summer to fall and then again from winter to spring, I tend to get a little manic. Not full-blown, Destiny! of yesteryear psychotic manic, but my mind goes a little fast and I have to battle some demons that are resurrected at that time of year. I thought I handled this season’s change marvelously, deftly telling the demons to quiet themselves, and allowing my brain to create a flurry of thoughts to be used as future essays, blog posts, book ideas, or just facebook anecdotes. I have a lot to work on this winter. I also realized that I might not be completely through this season of mania, as evidenced by an internet interaction I had today.

This morning during a break from editing physics, I opened my facebook to find a notification that someone had commented on a comment I had posted on a public page 3 days ago. My comment, which was in response to a news article, said simply “Pritzker is going to take the president to the United States Supreme Court and after that, The Hague,” received several likes and had honestly been forgotten because the days just replace each other when they consist of carpool, editing physics, engineering, and law, and maintaining a relationship with The Mayor. I clicked on what would then consume me for the next hour. Some random woman whom I do not know posted, “You all need to step away from the Pringles” under my comment. I was aghast. What the hell was this attack about? I thought, do I handle this with grace and say, “Jesus loves you, even if no one else does…”? But she attacked not only me but my kids. So I responded quickly and said, “Is this supposed to be a fat joke? Because I can lose weight. You unfortunately can do nothing about that face, those teeth, and that ugly personality.” That’ll show her, I thought. Ugly is as ugly does.

I went back to physics and finished my article; before switching to engineering, I took a peek at my facebook again (what can I say, it is a ridiculous addiction). Another notification. This time she said, “Aww, so you guys choose to be fat.” Well, she can just eat a satchel of richards. Lady, you do not want to fuck with a wordsmith. So I unleashed a tirade that would make any venomous teenage girl cringe. “Oh you poor thing…And you choose to be hateful. I’m sorry your kids hate you and your parents are disappointed in you. I hope my name flashes through your mind when your doctor gives you your diagnosis. Bless your precious heart.” Was I proud of this outburst? Admittedly, a little. Fuck with me and my kids, I will fuck with you so hard mentally that you won’t know what hit you. I pushed post and waited… Soon I was rewarded with a little red bubble. “Who is hateful now?” So I quickly replied, “You come after me unprovoked and when I bite back, you are offended. Go cry in a pillow.” Another quick notification with a simple, “You are crazy.” Your goddamn right I am, tell me something I don’t know. So I sealed our interaction with a kiss and simply replied, “Oh dear. Did someone learn the hard way not to pick fights with strangers on the internet? Have a “blessed” day. I’m sure you will.” A southern lady threat, how I learned growing up.

I rode this little high into thrifting with Ez and relayed my interaction to them, which they agreed she deserved it, even if I did cross the line with my threat of a “blessed” day and an unknown diagnosis. As the day wore on, I expected the little guilt pangs that normally come from one of my outbursts, but they never came. I might still be a little manic, but more astutely, I am pissed. I am so pissed that they (and they know who they are) can spew hatred from their mouths and when they get the first inkling of a pushback, they play victim. I am so pissed that our country takes an already marginalized community that constitutes 1% of our population and villainizes them from their positions of power. I am so pissed that truth no longer has a place in our media.

After dinner, I was finishing up an engineering article and Neil Young’s “Heart of Gold” came on Spotify. I heard the lyric “You keep me searching for a heart of gold…” and I wondered if it was my angels saying they were disappointed in me today. Should I have responded to that stranger with love? Maybe. Did I tarnish my heart a bit with my tirade? Perhaps. But gold is malleable and soft. I am not. I will fight for my kids rights. I will fight for the rights of marginalized communities. I will fight for truth. And if Stephen King has taught us anything, you best not come after a wordsmith, because we will decimate you. A heart of gold, perhaps not. But a living, beating heart filled with blood that bleeds my truth. You’re goddamn right.

Something Just Like This

I take a deep breath in and exhale to the count of eight. The forces of the Universe wash over me and I find myself pulled in infinite directions at once. Before panic sets in, I immediately center myself and take another deep breath, holding it and mentally repeating my goal for this meditation session in as few words as possible. This world needs more love, more kindness, more compassion. From everyone. I feel the energy around my heart open up and I relax into it. I breathe through the waves and use my chest to push them out to the earth that needs such healing and positive energy now more than ever. 

The pirates of the multiverse start to voice their objections, and I find myself beginning to split. I have to quiet them lest they negate the love with their hate, but it is a constant battle. I hush them, and take a sip of water, my meditation broken but not without, I believe, some benefit to the metaverse.

A few hours later, the chime of the door opening dings and I say “hey dere” and hear the familiar “hey dere” back. He greets Leia, our calico who waits for him at the top of the stairs when she sees him pull in the driveway. He puts his water bottle on the kitchen table then immediately retreats to the bedroom to change out of his shirt and tie so as not to sully them with the cat hair that is persistent. Ten minutes before he got home, I filled his water glass with ice and fresh water and placed it on his side table next to his recliner. I also took the opportunity to fill his bowl, so he has a freshie to smoke as he unwinds and relaxes from the stresses of his job. 

He sits down next to me and I wait until he is ready to talk before I pause my physics editing to give him my full attention. 

“Three trucks today, and Sam scheduled off so Abby and I had to unload and restock ourselves.” He has taken a part time job as the dairy man at a local specialty market to help pad our savings as we contemplate an interstate move in the near future. It’s hard on his body and it is not without its frustrations, but the hours are good and we are taking full advantage of the employee discount. Until something better comes along, he is making it work. I am deeply appreciative of the extra income, as it makes us that much closer to making our dreams a reality. 

Spotify plays in the background and Coldplay’s “Something Just Like This” takes its turn in the shuffle. 

“I had to return an octopus to the seafood department that somebody dumped in the dairy today. That was a new one.” I love when he tells me what he finds people have ditched. It makes me wonder what sparked the sudden divorce from a great dinner idea to dropping it all by the time they get to the other end of the store. 

After meditating in the morning, my day at home was spent editing physics, engineering, and law. Sometimes I have a tidbit to share that I have picked up from an article, but mostly I just say “work was good. I have to finish up after dinner. What’s for dinner again?” I could’ve looked it up on our menu app before he got home, but he sometimes has lightning strikes of inspiration and will switch things around at the last minute. Tonight we are having honey garlic cod with Parmesan couscous and maple glazed carrots for the side. The last chorus of Coldplay fades and the words repeat in my head, 

Where’d you wanna go?

How much you wanna risk?

I’m not lookin’ for somebody

With some superhuman gifts

Some superhero

Some fairy-tale bliss

Just something I can turn to

Somebody I can kiss

I want something just like this

His immediate presence calms me as he is my touchstone on this earthly plane. At a time when I explore dimensions in my brain through mindful meditation sessions, he reminds me that in this place and time there is only this one dimension that matters. I have a deep abiding love for the man who doesn’t have superhuman gifts, but who helps ground me so that I can explore the possibility of my own. 

He raises himself out of the recliner and goes to the kitchen to start dinner. I hear him hum as the fish sizzles in the iron skillet. A slow smile settles across my lips. Turns out, I want something just like this. 

5 Movies My Boyfriend Made Me Watch

What happens when you find your true love at 36 and he just happens to be a movie critic? All that you thought you knew about movies goes by the wayside and a new world opens up to you. I thought I was pretty well versed in the film universe, but as The Mayor pointed out to me, I had some major gaps. He got the brilliant idea for each of us to come up with five films that the other had not seen and we would learn more about each other through our choices. I was ready at the get go for this challenge…the only stipulation was he couldn’t make me sit through a horror film. Thankfully none of those ranked on his list of five, so off we went. (For his review of my five movies, and you know you want to know what I picked, click here…) Continue reading →

Seven Sentences for Sunday: The Terror Strikes Again Edition

I’ve been gone. For 9 long months. You’d think I could have done something productive with such an extended period of time away…something like conceiving and growing and eventually producing an infant—but I’ve done that before. Maybe writing a full-length screenplay, or finally shopping my children’s books that need a publishing home? Nope. Sad to say I was simply uninspired. I had plenty going on to write about, including the beginning and end of another relationship, watching each of my children jump a year in age, the beginning of what I am hoping will be my final intimate relationship, as I have found someone who inspires my soul yet keeps me grounded…. Oh, yes, there was plenty of fodder on which to write. But I lost my way in editing land and am only recently finding my way out.

It’s time. My friends say it’s time. My love says it’s time. My doctor even told me to write for ten minutes each morning in order to get my rhythm back. So I figured the best way to use my 10 minutes is to start with the tried and true Seven Sentences for Sunday.

Seven Sentences for Sunday: The Terror Strikes Again Edition

1. When it has been a while, forming an idea for a post is a bit like sex with a new love. All it takes is a bit of a connection, a raised eyebrow, or a half-smile, and suddenly the emotion takes over. You find yourself immersed in the experience, grasping at threads, and excited about the possibilities.

2. There’s also the terror that comes from the dichotomous struggle of worrying that you won’t be able to replicate the experience, or that you’ll fall so head over heels in love that you can’t possibly imagine your life without your lover or your writing. Both are equally terrifying.

3. Once I have written something….no matter how small…I begin to find inspiration in everything. I think this is true whenever you are doing something positive for the world—acts of kindness, peace, love, and yes, creativity, beget the same.

4. I have two writing challenges, one from my boyfriend and one from my sister, that have been set before me. I think I write best when a challenge is presented.

5. I had forgotten how seemingly easy but practically difficult it is to write 7 coherent sentences….maybe that’s a reason I stayed away so long.

6. And yet, I have already begun to think about next Sunday’s SSFS. I’m an enigma.

7. I hate horror movies. I steer far clear of haunted houses. However, when it comes to matters of the heart, I go for the thrill. I put my writing out there in the awareness that criticism could tear it to shreds. I hand the essence of my being over to my love, trusting him to hold it dear, but with the niggling fear that he has the power to crush it. That, I believe, is scarier than any John Carpenter or Wes Craven flick out there.

I love you all, some more than others.

Seven Sentences for Sunday: The Oddly Thankful Edition

A few weeks ago when I was visiting my sister in L.A., I visited her MOPS group. Along with their monthly teaching, they also did a craft project where they decorated mugs with things that they were thankful for that you might not necessarily be thankful for in the moment. With that in mind, here is my list of my oddly thankful things.

  1. I am thankful for sassy mouths…because it means my children have the power to reason with their strong vocabularies.
  2. I am thankful for middle of the night nursings…because those moments are so fleeting, and I know that it’s the only time that my baby will rely on me alone for nourishment. (respectfully borrowed from my sister, Lacey.)
  3. I am thankful for early morning wakeup calls during the school week…because it means I can make fried egg sandwich for R and see her and J off to school.
  4. I am thankful for past mistakes—the ginormous ones and the only mildly big ones…because they guide me through the stumbling blocks that are sure to continue to line my life path.
  5. I am thankful for heartbreak…because it makes me appreciate the swooning of a new relationship that much more.
  6. I am thankful for afternoon kindergarten…because it means I get special time with Ez every morning, even if it means stretching the budget just a bit tighter so I can stay home with her until she enters school full time next year.
  7. I am thankful for apartment living…because maintenance issues are not my own and because the kids have fun, understanding neighbors who don’t mind our loudness on occasion. 

I love you all, some more than others.

Seven Sentences for Sunday: The Steve’s Playlist Edition

Steve, the complete and utter romantic that he is, made me a playlist—something that is akin to the mix tapes of yore. It’s impossible to pick my top 7 favorites, but here are 7 that make my heart melt (in no particular order). I’ve included YouTube links for those who wish to get all mush-butt like me, just click on the song title.

  1. Chicago, “Make Me Smile”
  2. Eels, “I Like the Way This Is Going”
  3. Brandi Carlile, “Closer To You”
  4. Herb Alpert, “This Guy’s In Love With You”
  5. Glen Hansard & Marketa Irglova, “Falling Slowly”
  6. Norah Jones, “I’ve Got To See You Again”
  7. Corinne Bailey Rae, “Are You Here?”

I love you all, some more than others.

Seven Sentences for Sunday: The 7 Random Facts About Destiny Edition

  1. I eat ice cream from a mug. It tastes better and it feels like I’m getting more.
  2. I have a strong suspicion of anyone who can’t use chopsticks.
  3. Sliding Doors and Almost Famous are my two favorite movies of all time.
  4. Writing and quoting poetry to me are a fantastic way to get to second base.
  5. Heaven forbid, if I had to choose between being deaf, blind, or mute, I’d choose mute. I already clam up around people I don’t know, so I imagine it wouldn’t be too far of a stretch. Besides, I think I’d make a really cute mime.
  6. I love being kissed on New Year’s Eve. This year I plan on being kissed with my favorite band playing in the background—double score.
  7. I’d forgotten how often you have to do things one handed when you are carrying a sleeping/nursing newborn until I went to visit my 5 week old nephew last week. Not really a point of interest, but a fact nonetheless.

I love you all, some more than others.

Seven Sentences for Sunday: The Simple Rules Edition

Seven Rules for Dating Destiny, now that I’m online dating (eek!).

1. Thou shalt not reveal anything sexually about yourself on (or before) the first date that you would not tell your mother…or at least your best friend from college. Seriously, keep that shit to yourself until, say, I know more about you than what your favorite band is.Image

2. Thou absolutely positively shall not ever, never, tell me that you love me on the first date. Creepy to the nth degree, I don’t care how much of a romantic you are…

3. Thou shalt not even think about making me feel guilty for not rounding the bases before I am ready. I am wearing my “chastity belt” (unshaven legs) for a reason…deal with it.

4. Thou shalt respect the fact that I have children, that they are of utmost importance in my life, and that perhaps you should ask about them on occasion instead of ignoring that they exist.

5. If thoust want a response to your profile after thoust has checked out mine, send me an email with more than “hey…” And while we’re at it…if I have put myself out there by adding a few profile pics, you can add a few of your own. Don’t be a chickenshit.

6. Thou must understand that I am terrible at small talk…I will have revealed this before our date. So if thou can’t take the lead, then let’s do something action oriented, like putt-putt or bowling, where we can smack talk and have fun instead of staring at each other awkwardly over the dinner table.

7. Finally, don’t yell at me or otherwise talk down to me at any point during our budding relationship, because that will be the end of it right then and there. I went to a women’s college, I can stand up for myself.

I love you all, potentially one more than others…

The Queen of Hearts and the King of All Fools

King and Queen of Hearts My Ideal

Last night Sam and I went down to Party in the Park, Cincinnati’s summer soiree that happens every Wednesday night where folks gather to drink beer and listen to live music. We started talking about potential mates, and I noted that there wasn’t a single man there within my age range. I might as well wait until I’m 45 to have some sort of romantic social life. He tried to disagree with me, but I pointed out the thirty-somethings that were there had never been married and were not looking to date a divorced mom of three. Those who might not be opposed to a relationship with a single mom were in their fifties and were looking more for someone in their mid- forties with older children. Again, not in my spectrum of possible partners. Sam begrudgingly agreed that the pickings were slim, but insisted that 45 seems like an awful long time to wait for that special someone to steal my heart. Perhaps he has a point, but I wouldn’t be opposed to waiting that long for the right someone. Continue reading →