Prostitutes and Purple Pipes

I've been a very bad blogger, I know, but to make up for it, I have two new, never before seen, brand-spanking new, entirely nascent AirBear sayings to make up for it.

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Yesterday we were driving home from ballet, and the news was on. One of the headlines was about sex-workers winning a court appeal against policemen for arresting them for who they are and not for what they do. One prozzie claimed that she had been arrested over 200 times without charge.

Well, the girls always listen to the news when we're in the car. And AirBear gets quite interested in this woman, right. She wants to know why she got arrested. "Because she did something bad," I attempt to ignore the core of the answer. But she isn't satisfied. She wants to know exactly what that bad thing was that got a woman arrested 200 times.

I sigh. "Airie, I'll tell you when you're older, ok?" 

"NO! Mom," I see big eyes pleading at me in the rear-view mirror, "you need to tell us now!"

"Why? Why not when you're older?"

"Because what if we do the same thing?"

"You probably won't," I shake my head - I guess it's a fair question.

*********************

The next story opens with me on the loo. This used to be a regular public performance, but I've cut down on my audience admissions, and try to keep them outside the bathroom when I need to go. It works most of the time, not always, but most of the time.

On the occasions that I have the room to myself, you can be sure that at least one little person is seated just on the other side of the door, having a very important conversation with me that can't wait until later.

So there we were. Me on the loo, and AirBear guarding the entrance.

Things were going pretty quietly until there was a great gasp from beyond the walls of my privvy. It was the kind of gasp that makes you think that the person gasping has just seen a giant spider, or just won the Euro Lotto.

"What is it?" I inquired.

"Mom," she stated, most matter-of-factly, "you're not going to believe this: the pipes in my soul are purple!"

Will someone volunteer how I'm supposed to respond to that.

The more I tried to figure out what she was talking about, the more anxious and excited she became about her purple soul pipes. For a minute or two we chattered back and forth while I tried to make out what the heck she was on about.

Turns out she spotted the superficial veins in her wrist.

Go figure.

Email tracking

I've always hated those emails that you have to send on for good luck and to tell God that you love him. I've always thought that's rubbish. Well, seems my fears were confirmed, and, instead of sending this email on to all my contacts, I'm putting it up here.

Decide for yourself:

E-MAIL TRACKING

 

 Here is something everyone should read and take the advice. If you don't, you’re hurting yourself and your email buddies.

 

By now, I suspect everyone is familiar with www.snopes.com <http://www.snopes.com> and/or www.truthorfiction.com <http://www.truthorfiction.com> for determining whether information received via email is just that: true/false or fact/fiction. Both are excellent sites.

 

Advice from Snopes.com Very important!

 

1) Any time you see an E-Mail that says forward this on to '10' (or however many) of your friends, sign this petition, or you'll get bad luck, good luck, you'll see something funny on your screen after you send it, or whatever, it almost always has an E-Mail tracker program attached that tracks the cookies and E-Mails of those folks you forward to.

 

The host sender is getting a copy each time it gets forwarded and then is able to get lists of 'active' E-Mail addresses to use in SPAM E-Mails, or sell to other spammers.  Even when you get emails that demand you send the email on if you're not ashamed of God/Jesus ....that’s E-mail tracking and they're playing on your conscience.  These people don't care how they get your email addresses - just as long as they get them. Also, emails that talk about a missing child or a child with an incurable disease - “how would you feel if that was your child"....E-mail Tracking!!!

 

Ignore them and don’t participate!

 

2) Almost all E-Mails that ask you to add your name and forward on to others are similar to that mass letter years ago that asked people to send business cards to the little kid in Florida who wanted to break the Guinness Book of Records for the most cards. All it was,  and all any of this type of E-Mail is, is a way to get names  and 'cookie' tracking information for telemarketers  and spammers - - to validate active E-Mail accounts for  their own profitable purposes.

 

You can do your friends and family members a GREAT favour by sending this  information to them; you will be providing a service to your  friends, and will be rewarded by not getting thousands of spam  E-Mails in the future!

 

If you have been sending out (FORWARDING) the above kinds of E-Mail, now you know why you get so much SPAM!

 

Do yourself a favour and STOP adding your name(s) to those types of listings regardless how inviting they might sound!...or make you feel  guilty if you don't!...it's all about getting email addresses  - nothing more!

 

You may think you are supporting a GREAT cause, but you are NOT! Instead, you will be getting tons of junk mail later and very possibly a virus attached!  Plus, you are helping the spammers get rich!  Let's stop making it easy for them!

 

Also: E-Mail petitions are NOT acceptable to Government, or any other organization - i.e. social security, etc. To be acceptable, petitions must have a signed signature and full address of the person signing the petition, so this is a waste of time and you’re just helping the Email trackers.

 

Please read the full story here:

 http://www.snopes.com/inboxer/petition/internet.asp

The way things are now

They say that you should be careful about the things you wish for.

I was wishing for something to happen. Something to change things. Something great.

Well.

Something did happen. Something to change things. Something great. But not in a good sort of great way, more like a big sort of great way.

The 4 month old dalmation puppy, Princess Pepper, who has been in unfavourable repute with the mother of the house for ripping clean washing off the line and dragging it frivolously through the mud, caught, overpowered and dissected Holly, 14 month old Angora bunny.

T-Bird, my heart's greatest beat, discovered the carnage and how I wish she hadn't. She found the mutilated body of the friendly little bunny just before bath-time. Both girls were heart-broken, and wept for three hours flat.

We had a simple burial complete with kind words and offerings of fresh flowers and little trinkets - frugal donations from little people wishing the world were a different place.

***
When T-Bird was born, my mom said that from that day on, my heart would live outside of my body. And she was right. Seeing both of my children so desperately unhappy was indeed an emotionally taxing and physically painful experience for me. How I wished I could have saved them that loss, that pain, that violence. I wished I could keep them safe and ignorant of the hurts of the world, the reality of death, the truth of life. Oh for that elusive bubble-wrap to protect my dear, sweet, innocent progeny!
***

So something happened - my children were exposed to a reality of life in a very violent way. Things have changed - the dog is now the only pet on the premises, and my garden has a slightly better prospect at surviving. It was a great, and painful learning experience. For all of us.

Just had to Share this!

Me: This is a great pic, T! Is it you?

T: Uhuh.

Me: Why is your mouth open?

T: I totally freaked out.

Me: Why?

T: Because I looked in the mirror and saw how beautiful I was.

T-Bird: 6 years and 3 months

Self Preservation

The library book story started with: Mog was tired. So tired she wanted to sleep forever. And so she did. (slightly edited)

Sigh. What sweet release sleep is. An escape. An elixir.

Every day passes, and I place a fragile lid of sleep on each one. Like a delicate full stop. And I know that I can tick one more off until forever.

The feelings have slowed down. I've slowed down. I'm not thinking as much. I'm just getting through this minute, this hour, this meal, this routine. I find it hard to think about tonight. Or tomorrow. Or the weekend. Or Mother's Day. I just need to get through this space right here, please.

I feel like I'm saying "No. Sorry. I can't," all the time. "Jess, can you do this?" "No." "Would you like to arrange this?" "Sorry" "Can we count on you for this?" "I can't." And as much as I'd like to be Superwoman, I don't have the energy to put on that face. For me, it is an accomplishment that I actually get to the evening in one piece. Where did I lose the plot? When did I become not ok? Why am I not holding this simple, beautiful life together?

I'm tired. On the inside. And I'm also tired of being tired on the inside. I have nothing left really to give anyone. If you don't fall within my immediate circle of MIPs, chances are that I will not be able to see to your needs today. Tomorrow doesn't look good either. No. Sorry. I just can't.

Routine is good. It helps define the spaces of time that I float through. Go here. Do this. Go there. Do that. Equals good. Equals helpful. It offers a slightly clearer view  on things.

I'm tired of being low though. It's not nice for me. It's not nice for you either. This kind of tiredness is catchy, and I would stand back if I were you. Well back. Don't worry, I won't hold it against you. It's ok.

My demons haunt me from behind my eyebrows. Thoughts of where things went wrong pester my memory. The what-ifs and the helpless resignation that follows halve each breath I take. I'm drifting. I need my rock. My rock is crumbling. Now what? 

I'm really tired of this. I want sunlight on my face. I want bubbles and butterflies and star- anchored wishes. I want a clear mind with thoughts that march like little soldiers on parade - orderly, neatly. I want the colour back. I want morning.

They say the night is always darkest before the dawn. There are also places on the earth that don't get sunlight for months at a time. It just makes me think that I could do with a decent dose of equatorial living for a bit. Oh. And a glass of Sauvignon Blanc, please.