well, howdy folks! and happy almost new year!
i hope that everyone's christmas was duck lovely. mine was pretty great, except for christmas day, but i will not torture y'all with the sad details. suffice it to say that we're all alive and fairly fit, fat, and sassy, so that's all that matters, right?
i had a very nice xmas eve. stewart and i delivered the results of our (and mr. x's) hard labour of love to bruffy's house. unbeknownst to them* we have spent a good part of the last two months (and a GREAT part of the last two weeks before xmas) BUILDING A DOLLHOUSE!!! :D
and it is beeee-yoo-tiful! i also did a special "Stewart's Day Off" as a xmas and thank you prezzie for Wet Rats, so with that and the pics i'm getting from buff tomorrow, and the digi pics of the dollhouse and a special diary comic i did years ago, we should have a totally updated Day Off SOON! woo! and YOU will get to see the dollhouse!
we had a lot of fun building it. and it was a lot of hard work, but it was worth every minute to see buffy bawl the second she tore the wrapping! yee-hah!
i also made a lot of jewelry this year. pretty necklaces and bracelets to adorn MY jewels. and they have all been sparklin', let me tell you. i've still got one project to finish and i shall do that tonight, 'cause the Wonderful BF comes home on "S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y NIGHT!"!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
not that i really CARE or anything... i mean, i've hardly even noticed that he was gone... for at least a whole minute. one day. last week. when i was really really busy doing something else, or maybe when i was asleep.
*sigh*
:)
now, before y'all go and start giving me hell about liking and missing a boy this much, i want y'all all to think back real far, real hard, and try to remember when i was this happy and comfortable and content and pleased and had someone who was really worth missing and being a schmoo over, and THEN give me some lip!
he is so great. kind and thoughtful and funny and smart and nice and not boring (despite the six previous adjectives) and he likes me, and his family seems to like me, and he has a job (pretty much THREE jobs), and he's responsible and punctual, and he calls me, and he apologizes when he's wrong, and he accepts my apologies gracefully when i'm wrong-ish :) , and he stands up for himself when he needs to, and he is both a pimp AND a professor-type**, and he (at least pretends to) like(s) my cooking, and he listens to me AND remembers what i said days later, oh, and did i mention that he is DROP DEAD !#@$ gorgeous? there is that. AND he has good taste in movies and music, and although we don't agree on everything, he liked Waterworld and when we don't agree, we are learning how to fight in a fun way. and he likes my friends, and they like him, and he's a complete and utter geek, and he takes me out and brings me treats and writes me notes, and he helps around the house, and he likes to go shopping and he dresses VERY cool (in a punk-rock/professor kinda' way), and I DIDN'T MAKE HIM UP. i swear!***
so, SHUT UP! ;)
it's true. i've not liked a (different) boy this much since i was 16. and i don't mean LURVED or wanted or w.t.f.e., i mean liked. and cared for and all those other things too. he's great. in fact, the ONLY bad thing about him is that he's NOT HERE! and has been gone for almost TWO WEEKS! moo!
so, in other words - DON'T CALL ME ON SUNDAY! (or maybe monday, either! ;)

i hope this new year brings you all good things. happy babies, and baby-mamas,
good outlooks on your job-fronts (my BIGHUGEFAT*** raise kicks in next week!!! OW!) happy love, even if that means your pets and parents, a good mental-health outlook and easy (and hopefully no MORE) jail-time (you know who you are), warm houses, fit bodies, even if that means someone elses' (OW!), good weddings, easy moves, safe soldiers, lush gardens, successful shows, miracle recoveries, easy passages, happy cars, good books, patience, some 'woo' and plenty of 'WHEEEEE!!!'*****

and cross your fingers for me, too. if the 'stars align properly' (ie: mandy can come), i will get to be together with ALL of my siblings, all five of us, in mid-january in san antonio texas. that would be the first time in MANYMANY years, and it would be a true-blue dream-come-true! all stories have to start somewhere - even sequels.

bless us all!
-sam

*and most of you, too, 'cause i couldn't talk about it here in case they read it
**i tell him that he's a cross between richie and fonzie. :D
***on my father's bream bed.
****i'm talkin' Gilbert Grape's mama-sized, for me.
*****jen, looks like you might your "Whee! and Woo" wish to the right Goddess on the right day of the year, girlfriend! xoxox

It's Christmas in Heaven
(turn your sound up folks - and put down your drinks and swallow before you click the link...)
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. It's truly a real honourable experience to be here this evening, a very wonderful and warm and emotional moment for all of us, and I'd like to sing a song for all... of you."
-Graham Chapman as Tony Bennett, from 'The Meaning of Life"

I hope you all have lovely holidays.
Riddles, have a safe, wonderful, adventurous trip (no breaking your leg just to have an excuse to sit around in the cabin and read, Mr. X! :) Thank you for making me feel so welcome last night. You are all VERY special people...
Allens, drive safe, stay warm, think good thoughts...
Jeff - my middle-baby bro - might get to come on the Greyhound and stay a few days (!!!), wish him a good trip and wish us no fights... :)
Unkies, may you have all that you need and at least some of what you want...
All my outlying old-school homies in Mississlippi, Texas, Cali, Oregon, Lousy-ana, Kenturkey, Florida, ATL, Tikrit, Germany, Kuwait, etc. - I truly wish I could see every one of you and sit down for a drink and some stories and your smiles. That would be the best present I could have...
And mo Seamus, in the far away misty Shire*, I am missing you most of all, strangely enough**. I hope you read this, I hope you know that you are on my mind every day.
I hope that you have stockings hung and stuffed with chew-toys and those yummy little bacon things you sent Luna last year (i left one in her tin to make the rest of her treats smell good, mmmmm... :) I will be off for TEN DAYS after today (except for 3 hours on Tuesday p.m.) EXERCISE YOUR BANANA!!! :D
Happy holidays, lovelies. I hope that those around you remember the TRUE meaning of this holiday season - GOOD FOOD, WARM*** CLOTHES, AND EXCUSES TO PARTAY WITH YOUR DEAR ONES!!!
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox
-Sambolina Queena' the Geeks

*slowwwwwly being taken over by the armiesof Sauron and industry... :(
**considering that we've never met and all...
***i know i've said "warm" a lot in this post, but it is VERY !@#$ cold here and i still have no propane, so needless to say, it is on my mind! :)

ok. i know i have been WAAAAAYYYYY slack on the posting here, i'm sorry. life is veryvery busy - working hard as one of santa's most cheerful and spunky little elves...
*snark*.
ok, half of that is true. i AM busy, i AM doing xmas stuff, and i AM enjoying it. it's causing me a lot of pain, but it's worth it...
the good news is, with me working so much and not having time to post, you good people are not having to read a.) mooshy sentimental maudlin holiday stuff, b.) horrible sad homesick miserable family stuff.
so, merry christmas!
i will try to get back to my usual griping self soon!
(there is MUCH to tell! :)
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox
-sambolina grinchie-pie

well, i did get some new tires. two, for esmes front "feets". i got them for exactly 100.00, too. Yay, me and Esme!
In other happy news - the pianist for MAKTUB signed my guestbook! EEEEEEEE!!!!!
They are SUCH a good band. Do yourself a favor and go to this page and listen to "Just Like Murder". that's the tune that hooked me, and I promise it'll hook you, too, but i tell you, the whole album is gold, and the band members are OBVIOUSLY nice guys (thanks for writing, Daniel! who rocks? you do! :D)
well, i don't know if i told y'all, my painting sold 403$ worth of tickets. but for those of you who are sad that you didn't win it - the go-ahead has been given for making NOTECARDS and POSTERS!!! yay, me!!! on top of that, the sweet lady who won the painting* has decided to donate it back to the library for the children's area in the new building!
also, i got a nice xmas bonus (back shoes and new ball joints for esme!), and i think my raise begins in january. this is a good thing, as i still have no propane, and it is getting cooooooold.
i'm happy to have all this good news. the only bad news is that i am in an unbelievable amount of pain again, and i was not nice to my veryvery sweet boyfriend this morning, and i feel really bad about it. i have apologized a million times - even after he accepted my apology the first time, but i think it's what's at the root of it all, (maybe even the pain, or at least some of it) that's really bothering me.
All in all, besides being broke and swamped and chrismussed-to-death**, things are alright.
i like alright.
take care loves,
-miss sam


*one of our volunteers. she lent one of our patrons a dollar for a ticket, and when the patron repaid her, gigi told her that she should use the dollar to buy a ticket, so she did, and she won! then the nice lady she'd lent the $ to decided to make a quilt for the f.o.t.l. to raffle, too! :)
**this is, as nanny ogg would say, a double intender, and not always a bad thing. :)

It seems easy to find despair sometimes. The world IS a crazy place, and sometimes it’s hard to be brave when you’re a very small animal… Things are extra-especially scary right now, out in The Big World; and close to home, there is winter and money-stuff and health-stuff and every day stuff as well as The Big World to worry about. It is very true that we have to WORK to be happy. We have to sift through the junk and ashes and find the shiny good stuff. We have to really look at ourselves and our beliefs and opinions and the way we treat others and ask ourselves: “Can I be happy?” And then, we just have to BE.
But it isn’t easy, and people do a lot of bad, crazy things out of fear. So you have to persevere – and not become hard or cynical. You have to be The Fool, and take chances and trust and jump again and again and again.

Yesterday, the lovely lady who sold me Esme – my great pickup truck – came in to get my monthly payment. She brought me cookies, and we talked about various things – including a subject that means a great deal to both of us - trying hard to be a light in the darkness. We have discussed this from many angles, many times, and we never tire of it. It matters.
She told me this parable* that really struck me:

One evening an old Cherokee told his grandson about a battle that was going on inside himself. He said, "My son, it is between 2 wolves." "One is evil: Anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority and ego... The other is good: Joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith..." The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather, "Which wolf will win?" The old Cherokee simply replied, "The one I feed."

After we talked, she thanked me for the payment and left. A minute later she came back in with the money in her hand and said, “Sam, I want you to take this back and get some new tires**. If you don’t have enough, we’ll help you.”

It is plain which wolf she feeds, and I think it must be plain which one I feed too, because I am blessed and loved and helped in many ways, by many people. I am glad that I can see that, and appreciate it, and continue to see the glimmer in the ashes. I have survived a lot of bad things, some things that even people close to me have a hard time imagining, and yet, I am chumbawumba and mystikal!*** : ) And so are the people I choose, who choose to be around me. And for that, I am most grateful.

Feed the right wolf, peeps.
Love,
-sia

*which, apparently EVERYbody in the known world has heard but me! ;)
**my tires are REALLY bald and bad, and everyone has been warning me, but I simply have not had the money.
***"I get knocked down, but I get up again, you’re never gonna keep me down",
"But until you seen me...trust me, You ain't seen bouncin' back…"!

SNOW! ICE! RAIN! ARGH! BLAR! YUKYUKYUKYUKYUK!!!
Um, I mean, "Oh, the weather is so lovely here now... Everything is glittery and glistening... it's especially nice WHEN YOU'RE !@#$ SLIDING ALL OVER THE !@#$ ROAD, SO THAT WHEN YOU SPIN AROUND YOU GET THIS !@#$ KALIEDOSCOPIC-SNOW-GLOBE !@#$ EFFECT... I mean, awwww.... it's so nice that there's white and icicles everywhere, in fact, I hardly even notice that I have no !@#$ HEAT or INSULATION in my house and I can't even walk to my !@#$ truck - WHICH I CAN'T EVEN DRIVE ANYWHERE - without slipping all over the !@#$ driveway...
raar.
*sigh*
Well, there are two consolations. 1: Sallie can - and will come in and open most days when I can't get here; and 2: I have the smooshiest, sweetest (not to mention HOTTEST! OW!) beau, who will snuggle till the very last minute in the mornings, go and fill the kerosene thingie in the arctic pre-dawn, make veryvery good coffee, and will drive my sad, coastal-weather drivin' @$$ to and from work when he is able. Oh, and take me out for sushi just 'cause it is Wednesday. YAY, ME!
Yay, X?, too. You reallyreallyreally are the m.m.
Moo.

Stay warm, peeps!
XOXOXOXOXOXOX
-Sambolina

Today is my mother’s birthday. I think she’s 53 – I was born a little over three months before her 18th birthday. Though by now, that may be just another one of my lies, too… Maybe she had me when she was 15, or maybe when she was 21. Or maybe never.
When I was six she told me that babies came from under a mushroom (or maybe a cabbage…). Perhaps that’s where I was found, and that could explain all the mysteries of our relationship, and my relationship with the whole family. Wouldn’t it be nice if it were that easy?
53 (give or take) years of mighty raw power in one tiny little package. She is definitely one of the most mentally and physically impressive people I’ve ever known. At a little over 5 feet, and around a hundred pounds, with piercing blue eyes and a very wicked, winning smile, she looks like a coiled spring, and has a personal presence that has to be witnessed to be believed.
She has a sharp, brilliant mind, an amazing amount of skill and talent, and a survivor ability that I am proud to have inherited. There is a lot of her in me, and with one exception – my ability to truly frighten people with a quiet word or a look* – I am very proud of all of it.
She’s also terrifying to me – the only person I’ve ever been genuinely and consistently afraid of, and she has a streak of weakness that I will probably never be able to understand. She might say, now, that she treated me the way she did so that I wouldn’t have that same streak, but more likely she would say that I don’t know what I’m talking about, as usual.
There is another woman here, a friend, who recently did something that disgusted and disappointed me deeply. I couldn’t understand my tremendous anger over a situation that no longer affects me directly (though it did at one time) but it didn’t take me very long at all to trace that connection back to home. There is something about seeing a strong, intelligent woman fall prey to her own weakness for a man – ESPECIALLY a bad man, that I cannot forgive – especially when they bring other people** down with them in their madness.
My mother and I have not had a real conversation in many years. Not since before dad and Robbie died. There are a lot of reasons for this, all of which are publicly known as my fault. And I’ll take that. I know the truth, and my brother knows the truth and that’s all that matters. That, and that my mom is happy because I’m not rocking the boat. She is a new person, with a new life, and my truths and myself just don’t fit in there. It’s the only way. I understand that, she generally seems to accept it, but the rest of the family doesn’t. Because of this, I periodically (every time I see them) have to go through the “Sam, how can you be so unforgiving? How can you keep doing this?” And I always say “I can’t explain it to you. There’s more to it than you know or want to hear.” And this is the truth. I always ask them “Why? Why would ANYone do this to their own mother if there were no reason for it? There have been a million times over the years when I’ve wanted and needed her – why would I shoot myself in the foot for no reason?” But they don’t hear me. I think two of my favorite aunts have come to understand it pretty clearly, and another of them, my dearest, understands more than she lets on, but she has to be neutral, because she loves us both so much.
It’s so hard. I have only two choices. To continue to appear to be this unforgiving, stubborn liar, or to put myself back under the horrible strain of smiling and pretending and accepting and allowing everyone to believe that I’ve admitted to the lies and suffering the fear and mind-breaking stress that I lived under, in silence, until I was brave enough to walk away.
Of course, the other, obvious option would seem to be just telling the truth. Everyone talking and getting it out and going on, with clear consciences and lighter hearts and a better understanding of each other. Then I could have a mother, and she could have a daughter, and we could make a new life together. But it has been made quite clear to me that this is impossible and will never happen. Although the one being stubborn, bullheaded and lying, she is the one who refuses to discuss or even acknowledge the past.
So, c’est la vie.
The important thing is that she is happy now, and so am I, relatively speaking. The dream is that we could be happy together, but someone very close to both of us said that they believed that this would never happen. So we just have to accept that and move on.

I will never have a chance to say to her, face to face, that I think I understand why things happened the way they did. That I can imagine what it must have been like for a woman like her – like me – a free spirit, a wild heart a great mind, a broken soul to be saddled with three small children by the time she was 21 and a husband that was just another kid, more of a hindrance than a help, and incapable of satisfying her desire for attention and passion. To see her life cut short, changed irreparably because of lack of choices. She could have been or have done anything, but instead she took what looked like the best path, and it turned out to be a very hard one. She, like me, wasn’t cut out to be a wife or a mother – at least not then. I understand her anger, her lashing out, her specific attitude toward me, her misery, and her feelings of entrapment. It is my own greatest fear, too.
I know I’m not her, that I was just a child, that I don’t know what she went through as a child, but I was never offered her insight on those things. Those things, just like my memories, apparently never happened either. But I can imagine. And I can forgive, knowing those things.
But my forgiveness is not required or requested. It only really matters to me. I have to go on and forge a relationship with my mother that is now, ironically enough, all in my head.
I do think of good times – and there were a few. I do tell people good things about her, and I remember her strengths and accomplishments with pride.

I hope and pray that she is happy now, and I mother myself and let my friends do it for me when I can. What else can I do?

It’s all in my head anyway, right?
Right.

Hug your mothers if you can.
-sia


*this is something that would be very hard for just anyone to comprehend without experiencing it. My ex-husband saw it in both of us, and a couple of my friends – one very recently – told me that I did this to them, and I felt so bad because it was so easy to remember how horrible that felt. One look or one sentence, and you are filled with a sickening dread. Ask Stewart, ask Steve or Rob. It’s awful.

**especially their children.

Hello, snow monkies. Brrrr! I tried as hard as I could to hold it off, but it looks like winter’s really going to move in ANYway. Bluh.
Alright, bad start, as I have sworn to try harder to be more cheerful about it. It helps that my dear, sweet, feathery, plastic* beau HATES the snow, too, ‘cause the last thing you want when you’re cold and snokky and having to drive bad roads is someone who is disgustingly perky and hillbilly about the whole thing.
Raar.
It snowed last night. Pretty seriously, in fact. Badly enough that Stewart didn’t want to risk driving home. And then this a.m., sure enough, Cane Creek was a sheet of ice. Poor little Neville**…
The up-side of this, however, was that it was beautiful – that part of the country, in Fairview, is lovely – and the company and food and entertainment were excellent. We were stuck at Bruffy’s big, beautiful, comfy new house, we’d been cooking all evening (I made a cranberry apple pie) and we had burritos and turkey day leftovers… and there were LOTS of the geeks there – Buffy, Brett, Ari and Skye, of course, Stewart, Chris and myself, Ursula came with Isaac and Gavin, and Andi, Brian and Aeryn made it, too. Oh, and Elia and Inky (THE best cat ever) too. It was Bruffy’s first snow AND big gathering at the new crib, so that made it extra special. The boys played Magic, and then we all watched the extended DVD of “The Aragorn Show”… sorry, I mean “The Two Towers”… :D Well, ok, I mostly slept… but that’s ok, too!
The crew got to meet Mr. Riddle for the first time, and just as I suspected, he fit right in. Yay, us!
It’s a new, very happy experience for me to be able to bring my “romantic” life and my “social” life (my beau and my family) together. I had no doubts that they would click, and I am so delighted that Chris wants to hang out with them. That means the world to me. He really is the Best Boy.
Mrowr!

Ok, here’s another poem for you lot. It’s a very meaningful one to me, for lots of very obvious reasons, but it also made me think of my good friend (and last year’s roomie) Jen. She is a survivor, too, but she told me once that she has a tendency to always be looking down. She says she often misses the BIG details for gazing so intently at the small ones. Jen is an amazing girl. I am proud of her for grabbing life by the ears and saying “NO! Do it like THIS!” :D She’s a badass, beautiful girl who can do anything she sets her mind too, and if the $#*! hits the fan, she is DEFINITELY one of the people I want in my bunker. She and Burt are bringing another little Amazon Warrior Woman into the world*** very soon, in January. Arianna Caitlin – last name still undecided****…
I think Jen – and all of you survivors – will appreciate this bit of verse.
Stay warm, stay healthy, and count your blessings.
Much love,
-Sam

Survival Skills

Here is the virtue
in not looking up:
you will be the one
who finds the overhang
out of the sun
and something for a cup.
You will rethink meat;
you will know you have
to eat and will eat.
Despair and hope you keep
remote. You will not
think much about the boat
that sank or other boats.
When you can, you sleep.
You can go on nearly forever.
If you ever are delivered
you are not delivered.
You know now, you were
always a survivor.



Poem: "Survival Skills" by Kay Ryan from Say Uncle (Grove Press).

*don't ask. we have adjective issues. :)
**Neville is Stewart’s Golf. It’s green, though. And a very good car.
***I’m tellin’ ya… we’re gonna take over!!!
****you have NO idea how very “Jen and Burt” this is… let’s just say it’s a good thing they didn’t have to make the decision on ‘boy’ or ‘girl’… *sheesh!* :D

Hello, folks! And Happy “Gorging-Yourself-On-Good-Rich-Food-With-Family-and-Sitting-Around-in-Front-of-the-Ballgame-Feeling-Like-an-Agitated-but-Soporifically-
Happy-Blowfish” Day!
I hope that none of you get in fights, that all your cooking goes well, that none of you miss your late loved ones and far-away kin too badly, and that you manage to eat just enough so that you don’t feel sick.
I am going to spend the day with my Rennie family, at Buffy’s mom and dad’s. Buff, Brett and the girls will be there, too, as well as Brian, Andi and Aeryn. Buffy’s brother Nate (who I have looked forward to meeting for a while) and his girlfriend will be there (I think.. Jill?) and I’m not sure who else. It sounds like a good time, though, and I am hoping that Stewart will be able to come by after his fam’s do, too. My job is to bring the green bean casserole and my dad’s famous ambrosia. Buffy told me yesterday that I could come or not, but that the ambrosia BETTER be there! (Dad, wherever you are, I hope you heard that. : )
Chris will spend the day with his family tomorrow (HI, RIDDLES! : ), but on Friday, he, Stewart and I will go up to Fairview in the late afternoon, to B&B’s and the boys are going to play Magic while I entertain the Brufflets. (Buffy will be off braving the outlet malls with her mama… ) The girls and I are gonna make a cranberry apple pie… Mmm!
When Buff gets in, we’ll make a grocery run and get stuff for burritos, ‘cause we KNOW everybody will be cooking/turkey tired. Ursula and her boys will be there, too! Yay!
Sounds like a good day, and Chris will finally get to meet some of MY “family”. I think it will be a good collusion. Yay, me! And yay, Chris!, too, because he will be meeting some of THE best people in the Universe.
As always, I am most thankful for my good friends/family - and that means the family I have that is not related by blood and the friends I have that are. Joe and Ellie, as much fun as I’ll be having, I wish I could spend this holiday with you. I love you and miss you, very much. Aunt Sue and the rest of the Queen Bees, too. She’s still in the hospital, and I would love to smuggle in some turkey and fixings for you like dad did for me the last time I was in Methodist with pneumonia… (Miss Kittrell came to see me that day, too.)
Charlyn and her clan, my other Asheville/Hooterville beloveds, the Outlanders off in school, James, Unky, Bryan and his girls, Rob, the Austin Peopos, my Hattiesburg/Texas Geek-homies, the NOLA freaks, Rory and Julia, Sandy up in Portland…
I wish we could ALL be together, but at least writing this list really makes me realize how very lucky and blessed I am, how much I have to be thankful for.

Oh, also to let y’all know, my painting was raffled off today – we sold 403$ worth of tickets! And the winner was one of our Columbus library Volunteers! Woohoo!!!
I also found out that they are going to be making notecards and possible prints of it for sale, which is nice and an honor. I am pretty dang proud of all of that. : )

Ok. That’s my basic news. Isn’t it nice that it’s all pretty good?
Wishing you all the same, ad THEN some!
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX
-Miss Sam

Here's yet another good poem from the writer's almanac. He - Garrison Keillor - is good about printing the poems that echo what's going on in the world. Some days, I feel like he knows what I'm thinking about for sure.
Winter is coming, and you all know how I feel about that. I haven't been able to fill my propane tank for my heater yet, and so I tell everyone that the unnaturally warm winter/Indian summer that we're having is simply prolonged by the force of my will...
Well, stranger things have happened...

My good friend Mike came and had dinner and watched a movie with me last night, it was good to be with him, and to watch a flick that really meant something to him. It's always like a window into someone's soul/psyche when they share an important film or book or song with you... Mike is my oldest friend here in the Carolinas, and he is tried and true. He's doing well, too, and that makes me happy.
Chris came and crashed last night too, and we all had a good chat. I like it when nerds collide... :)
This morning Chris drove me to work, and the three of us went to Mickey-D's for breakfast. On the way there, Chris said, "I got you something." and he reached into his (phat-ass 70's professor pimp corduroy) jacket pocket and pulled out a vanilla Olivero and a packet of matches in a little cigar-sized zip-loc. Man, am I smitten.

Chris is smitten, too, but I think it's with Mike's beautiful, beautiful car*! :D

Better days, folks. God is in the details.
Here's your poem - a very good representation of my feelings about the coming winter.
Much love,
-sam

The North

The ancients knew the sorrows of exile:
If you weren't hanged, they'd pack you off
To the far ends of the Earth,
To go on grumbling, writing endless petitions
That would never reach the Emperor.

The North always the place of punishment:
Unforgiving cold, rags on your back,
And the company of a few sullen barbarians
At day's end when the wind parts the clouds
And the stars seem to be mocking.

Every few years a garbled message from home.
Memory paying a call in the wee hours:
A mother's face; the company of merry friends
At the long table in the garden;
Their wives baring their throats in the afternoon heat…

"The sages suffered, too, exiled from truth,"
That's what you tell yourself…
Not many are meant to retrace their steps
And behold the splendors of the capital
Even more seductive than when you knew them.

The North always the place of punishment.
Deep snow. Blue-veined trees and bushes
Rising against the pink-colored morning sky…
So that briefly, in that one spell,
Your heartache hushes at the beauty of it.


Poem: "The North," by Charles Simic, from The Book of Gods and Devils (Harcourt, Brace and Company).

*MIke is going to send me a link to a paper that he wrote - AND won a prize for about his "Sweet Melissa" - maybe I can talk him into sending photos, too. I am SURE he has some!

Poem: "Call and Answer," by Robert Bly.

Call and Answer

Tell me why it is we don't lift our voices these days
And cry over what is happening. Have you noticed
The plans are made for Iraq and the ice cap is melting?

I say to myself: "Go on, cry. What's the sense
Of being an adult and having no voice? Cry out!
See who will answer! This is Call and Answer!"

We will have to call especially loud to reach
Our angels, who are hard of hearing; they are hiding
In the jugs of silence filled during our wars.

Have we agreed to so many wars that we can't
Escape from silence? If we don't lift our voices, we allow
Others (who are ourselves) to rob the house.

How come we've listened to the great criers-Neruda,
Akhmatova, Thoreau, Frederick Douglas-and now
We're silent as sparrows in the little bushes?

Some masters say our life lasts only seven days.
Where are we in the week? Is it Thursday yet?
Hurry, cry now! Soon Sunday night will come.

it's been a RAAAR! day, and i'm not sure why (but only 'cause i haven't had time to really sit down and think about it...), especially considering that it started out so nicely with a veryvery handsome gentleman treating me to breakfast and being so sweet...
sallie thinks i'm allergic to eggplant*. i have been sick with a cold, and i think it's turning to bronchitis. lovely. bluhr. i just want to be 'baby', like when i was a kid and sick, i want to be loved and petted and brought mushroom soup with a straw** or gingerale and sherbet. but mostly love is what i need. the snuggle-up skwooch kind like where it just means "aw" and nothing else. dad was good at that, and so was steve...
stewart is doing the best he can, he's invited me over to watch the Two Towers(!!!) extended version(!!!), yay! and sallie was talking to me like we talk to our dogs. which is nice. she's a good cheerleader.

i found out from rob today that sloane's girlfriend tried to go with him. i feel for her so much, to wake up (27 hours) after trying that and finding your love that way. but she woke up, and that in itself is a miracle. i wish i could talk to her. i am sure that she is having a really hard time, but i hope she realizes that she lived for a reason. who knows why, but she was just not meant to go. i pray that she gets some help, and i pray that she learns to love herself and life, and that she can learn to be all the way alive, to live to live life to the fullest - enough for herself and the memory of sloane.
sad, sad, sweet babies. my heart goes out to her.

last night chris brought a movie that was the most amazing thing i've ever seen on film (and i've seen a lot of amazing film). it was called "Russian Ark" and it is a film about the history of the russian people that was filmed in ONE SHOT and ONE TAKE.
it was incredible! beautiful, lush, amazing, stunning, and a MIRACLE of film-making. DO see it, and be sure to go potty and get a drink before you start it because you will not want to pause it or leave it until it is done. in fact, it seems that it would be a crime to do so.
(rory, if you read this, please write me and tell me what you thought of it. i remember how impressed you were with that one long tracking shot in... was it goodfellas? i thought of you.)

i'm also delighted that i have someone who will bring me rare films like this and then curl up on the couch with me and watch them, and have good discussions afterwards.
what a treat. i am a very lucky girl.

i think i am also a fairly sick girl, so i hope i get some good rest tonight. i've forgotten what all the rest of the week has in store for me, but i hope it's good.
i hope the same for all of you.

oh, before i go. y'all send good thoughts out aunt sue's way. she is still in the hospital and about to undergo the third surgery on her hip. i finally talked to her last night and her spirits were good, but i know she's trying to be a trooper. she has a few complications, but aunt rhonda is looking out for her, so she is in good hands, and her doctors sound like they are doing a good job.
i wish i could go see her for christmas...

if wishes were horses, huh?
much love,
-sam

*ask me in person, or e me, if you reallllllly wanna know.
**gramma cut a giant pixie stick for me to use as a straw so the mushroom bits could get through. that's love. and ingenuity.

well, my fingers are starting to look less like boiled kielbasa (ewwwww!) and more like just severely heat-damaged fingers. this is a good thing. sallie was starting to get pretty grossed out by the whole effect, and they were the source of mine and my beau's first fight... raar!
so what else is news?
i auditioned for a play in asheville and got multiple very choice roles - but i turned them down for several reasons, mainly that my time and $ are so very dear these days and priority-wise, it wasn't prudent. i really want to spent any spare time i have being with my friends, helping with the faire where i can, and working on my art. i was WAY flattered to get cast so nicely, especially since i have NO experience with this kind of theatre. i do hope i get another chance someday.

my doctor has come to some sort of conclusion re: what's wrong with me, but as far as i can see, he's based this diagnosis on nothing more than a complete lack of evi-dence. all hail modern medicine. he seems to have decided on fibromyalgia, and he has prescribed me an antidepressant because fibromyalgia is an "emotional illness".
i told him that he might consider investing in a police riot shield if he felt that he was going to have to be giving that speech to a lot of women who had been in pain and feeling weak and exhausted for a long time.
i told him i'd try it though, because i told my friends and my family and myself that i would go to the doctor and that i would do what i was told. within reason. so he gave me five weeks of samples - that's the prerequisite two weeks to let it "build up in your system" and then three weeks of seeing what it's like. it's not one of the strong ones, and it's a low doseage, so we shall see. if it does what he says it's supposed to, and it doesn't numb out my feelings like the drugs i took when i was dependant on the mississippi mental health system*, then i will give it a shot.
we shall see.

there's other stuff going on, too. good and bad, happy and sad. one of my old friends from hattiesburg committed suicide this weekend. he was a very broken young man. life and his father had seen to it that all his possible defenses were removed. he subsisted by trying to exist in a state of complete drug oblivion. he would take ANY kind of drug, and when nothing else was available, he would huff glade air freshener. needless to say, those moments are my most vivid memories of him, but i have some gentler ones, too. he was a beautiful person, physically, and he had a sweet and erudite soul. in those extremely rare moments that he felt safe enough to let that show, he wrote poems and talked about words the way i love to. he came to my house fairly often, seeking warmth and safety. i am sad that his life was like it was, and as horrible as it seems to say this, i'm glad that he finally found some kind of real peace.
sleep well, sloane. i hope it's maxfield parrish land for you, wherever you are.

now i am off, to warm my house, love my dog, and let someone hold me.
wishing you all such simple pleasures,
-sam


*now THAT'S a scary thought, innit?

What a special treat I got this morning!!! I stopped this morning at the Triangle Stop (for 2-!@#$ dollahs worth of gas – times can be hard on the mean skreetsa Polk County…) and when I finished, I turned to head toward the store to pay and *BINK!* , there was this big, beautiful boy leaning against my truck – ADAM PALMER! (Baby Vin, the VP of the B.B.B.D.F.H.*) home from boot camp, looking like a million dollars - and heading out tomorrow to Iraq or Kosovo, or some other horrible place that he should ABSO-!@#$-LUTELY NOT !@#$ BE! I jumped a foot in the air, squealed like Bob Barker had just called me to “Come on down!” and threw my arms around his neck… He looked wonderful (and felt even BETTER! OW! Boot camp has been good to him, baby-fat-wise! Holy cow! His arms felt like crepe myrtle branches!) He looked different, more grown up. There was a depth to his expression that I’d never seen before, maybe due to the fact that he is shipping out to this horrible, pointless war.

Let me pause here to stop being nice and publicly state that George W. Bush is a complete idiot, and an evil, careless, unrighteous dictator. When he and his Heavy Duty Crew-style Posse single-handedly and quite completely destroyed democracy in this country by fixing our most sacred electoral process, all illusions of us being a truly free country died. He can claim a lot of things for his stint at the helm of this great nation, but I hope the world always remembers him as the man who made America, it’s Constitution, and all of it’s bold, daring claims to freedom and democracy a complete LIE. There is a great ripple of fear among my friends and loved ones that he will be re-elected, and there is a glimmer of unbelievable sweet and naïve hope for Howard Dean, but I believe there will be no election. Just like last time, they will lie and cheat and fix the books (or the chads or whatever) and we will take it just like we did before. Or maybe just forego it, call it a National Emergency, and just appoint Herr Bush Der Commissar. Our flag has been reduced to a muddy rag, our constitution to scrap paper. They might as well take a crayon and re-write it so that the Governator can step into office and be a Bush-puppet when they can’t figure out how to make the Twins co-presidents. Our claims to being the land of the brave and the home of the free are no more. We slept on the job and now we can’t go back. We took that last slap in the face, in Florida and in the entire nation back in 2000, lying down, and now we’re down and we just accept it. I am ashamed of all of us, including, maybe especially myself. We all say “but what can I really do?!?!” We believed all along that our vote counted for something, and they proved us wrong and drank champagne over it. I predicted on “election” day that The Big Idiot would have no choice but to get us embrOILed in a war so that he could be a Cowboy and a Hero and show us his Big Guns, thus proving to us that the man who can cheat in an American Presidential Election can do any damned thing he pleases, including possibly arranging a few terrorist attacks (what’s another 3,021 people when we know we’re going to be racking up tens of thousands more in the coming war? Which ok, of course, because it’s good for the economy. Pigs.) to get the ball rolling. How disgusting. How unbelievable sick and wrong...
And my Adam, beloved, beautiful, brave boy will be sent into the teeth of George Fucking Bush’s mindless money campaign tomorrow. Adam, and supposedly another 84,999 just like him. Oh, it’s supposed to be over by June… and I suppose that Der Commissar will at least try to make it look like the brakes are on in time to justify rigging another election for himself, but can these boys and girls make it until June? And even the ones whose bodies come home in one piece, what will their hearts and minds be like for the rest of their lives – and does their government, their "fearless !@#$ leader", CARE?

(If Adam is hurt, if he has hard times afterwards when he does finally come home, I will go to Washington and I will be heard if I have to stand outside the Whitehouse and holler. I wish every injured person and family member would do that. I wish we – I – had done that when our Democratic process was sodomized back in 2000.)

But these soldiers, going, knowing what is really behind the whole thing anyway, doing what they believe is right, bless them. Love them, support them, pray for them, and pray for George Bush to never, as long as he lives, have another good nights’ rest for what he has done. He is no better than Hussein, who also has no conscience about what he does to his people and his country. Perhaps we should have just sent in Black Ops volunteers to do what really needed to be done, and perhaps they should have done the same.

Tonight, I will sit with Private Palmer, and look at his face and hear his laugh and his stories, and I will pray hard that he comes home safe to his terrified mama and his little brother. They are all that each other have. If something happened, would George Bush – or even his administration – take care of Gail and Isaac and Adam? No. They will leave that to us “free” people.

Pray for miracles, think (as) positively (as possible. physics proves that our positive and negative thought energy actively affects the world around us), support Howard Dean, support these soldiers, and don’t forget that it is really easy to kick and bite and scratch when you are lying down. In fact, it’s the one of the three places (besides in a corner and up against a wall) where you don’t have to watch your back, and it has the added advantage of leaving all of your limbs free for fighting...
…and most importantly, hold fast.

-sam



*Badass Biker Baby Ducks From Heck - guess who's Prez?

Y’know what?
I am overdue for a real rant.
I cannot be terribly specific about the subject of the following rant, because of legal issues, nor can I use certain language, because I want to be sure that EVERYbody can read this, so I will do my best to be non-specific as well as pc.
CERTAIN people in CERTAIN job and life positions have a certain habit of confusing their private lives with their “professional” lives and taking it out on those of us who couldn’t give a RODENT’S HEINEY! These certain people also have a tendency to confuse their maternal figures with EVERY OTHER BLOODY WOMAN ON THE BLOODY PLANET and lording their erstwhile “power” over anyone who can’t escape for fear of screwing up their ends*.
We all run into these little power mad bureaucrats every day, at the bank, managing our favorite stores and eateries, selling us leather and metal goods, making sure our garbage is picked up on time… and honestly, we ought to just be able to kick them. Or just slap them, openhanded, across their cheesy little facial hair/bald spot/smug face. We ought to get, like… one freebie a week. That should be how they justify the fact that they are so grossly overpaid for the heiney smooching that they do every bloody day in, day out. We should be able to TELL them how awful they are, how pointless their behavior is, how silly their suits are, and that should go at least a little way toward justifying the fact that we are ultimately the ones paying for their hair implants and trips to the Bahamas to drink Blo… um, Fruity Drinks On The Beach with oily enriques waiting on them hand and foot and …
What was my point here?
Oh yeah, SMACK ‘EM! Small price to pay, eh? For their perks and bonuses and kowtowing. Of course if every person they dealt with could smack them once a week, if they so felt the need, then things might get a little hairy for them, but then maybe they’d catch on, and the smackings would decrease exponentially with the increase in their improved outlook, open-mindedness and more decent treatment of their customers and employees.
It would certainly go a ways toward balancing out what we as shoppers, employees, etc. have to deal with not only from them but from the people on the OTHER side of us, too.
To heck with middle management! Poopie on them! May they all go all moldy in purgatory! May their rogaine be switched with Nair and their mustache trimmers go on the blink! May they be cursed with dandruff and laryngitis (and tourettes!) at the worst of times! May their cappuccino makers never work! May their hostessing always flop and may they spend eternity in hot coals up to their squid marks! Amen!

-Sam the Mad Magpie

*This is NOT an intentional Freudian slip, o’ those of you who know me, this is an ebonic reference, ‘ends meaning ‘cash flow’.

‘only time for a lunch-break quickie, but take it where you can get it, I always say… well, not always, but you get my drift…
The workshops are going very well. We have been a hit. We have been complimented and congratulated, and other than being dead-shagged-out at the end of each day, we have also had a good time(and some damned good food) AND learned a lot*. (I’ve also sold close to 250 raffle tickets! Woohoo!!!)
I am just bleeping in to share a tall tale with you. I’ve entered a little contest wherein you are s’posed to submit one of your family’s best tall tales (and hooboy do we have ‘em) and I thought I’d share my entry with y’all. Wish me luck – the first prize is pretty awesome, but even more than that is the whole tradition of stories like this that my Papaw EB instilled in me. This little tale is one that I first told to Papaw and his friends when I was a teenager, and it was my first one to ever tell to them, so it was like a rite of passage. I passed. Papaw was delighted. I could see it in his grin, and his buddies were fit to be tied…
This story is a conglomeration. Papaw actually told me this tale about King, I just added the story of Tippy myself to flesh out the contest entry, and the story of old Red is the one I told to Papaw and his friends that day, once upon a time…

“My grandfather, E.B., was a woodsman and a river rat, and he always had good stories. He always had good dogs, too. One dog, King, was so smart that when ‘Papaw’ drove out West to work for a summer, King hopped trains to follow him out there. Another dog, Tippy, would take the mail to the Post Office, and Papaw said that Tippy knew the local mail slot from the ‘Out of Town’… But it was old Red that was the smartest. Red was so smart, in fact, that Papaw could put a stretching board – a board with one rounded end used for stretching an animal, usually a raccoon hide to use for fur – out on the porch, and Red would go out and find a raccoon to fit the board. Sad to say, Papaw’s heart was nearly broken when he lost that dog. You see, one day Mamaw propped up her ironing board out on the porch while she was mopping the kitchen, and we’ve never seen that dog since. For all we know, old Red is STILL out in the Mississippi swamp, looking for a raccoon to fit that board.”

: )
love,
-Sambolina Lou River Rat Lovelace

* I can make a web page now!

I know that many of you have seen this photo gallery on my webpage (and in my home) and heard the stories of my cousin Robbie, and of our family’s terrible loss. I don’t want to be one of those people who seemingly harps on something grim, or who seems to never recover, but until you’ve been there, you simply can’t understand how important it is to never forget the person, or the terrible way they were taken.
A friend recently sent an e-mail warning women not to go outside without light, protection, etc. if they hear a baby crying outside their home in the dark. Apparently this is a way for bad people to draw women out of their homes. The e-mail said that these criminals will play recorded baby’s cries and then attack the women when they come to investigate.
Yes, this all sounds like a bunch of hooey. Urban legend material if you ever heard it. But the fact of the matter is that there are sick, brutal, clever people out there who just might try or do something like this. This particular story may be bunkum*, but the fact of the matter is that these things happen, every day unfortunately. Very unfortunately. And also very unfortunately, the reality of this doesn’t hit home – it’s all “Hannibal Lecter” and cool scary books – until it happens to someone that you know and love.
Not harping, folks, just remembering. On All Soul’s Day (Nov. 1) I – along with a lot of other folks, pagans and papists alike – I spent the day thinking about Robbie and Dad, and other loved ones that have gone on. They all hurt a little, I miss them all, but the circumstances of Robbie’s murder is a big scar on my heart and mind, one that will never go away, one that will never even soften with time.
You can’t hide under the bed for the rest of your life, or live in a glass box, for fear of these sorts of things. But yet you have to be aware of the possibilities. Awake, aware, and living life wisely AND to the fullest. Whether this baby-cry story is a hoax or not, it’s a reminder that we cannot afford to be careless. It is possible to live a live of joy as well as vigilance. In fact, that is what all true survivors – and all their following successful generations do.
Sleeping well, but always keeping my sword and shield close by,
-Miss Sam


*sorry, librarian geek word-nerd fact, the word ‘bunkum’ came from ‘Buncombe County’
(Asheville NC is in Buncombe county). I find this EXTREMELY amusing, especially as I use the derivative “bunk!” a lot… here’s a nice link explaining the tale… and by the way, this is NOT bunkum, many dictionaries reference this as the origin of the word.

Well, hello all you witches and ghosties and long-leggedy beasties (especially the ones that go ‘bump’ in the night… : )
Today is Halloween. Second day of Samhain, and a gorgeous, warm Indian Summer day.
My punkin’ was a hit. X? said it is “the coolest pumpkin in the history of the universe, ever.” I knew that already, but it’s nice to get a sound second opinion. I carved the Crimson Ghost, which is the logo for the Misfits* that came from a 1946 b&w serial (Crimson Ghost really was a VERY cool villain!).
Speaking of pumpkins… Sallie made me a whole pumpkin pie, all for my very own!!!
Woohoo! I will share it, but only with Lu, Wetrats and Mr. X?. Unless YOU come to visit, then I will share with you too. But hurry. It smells reaaaallllly good.
Tomorrow night, I was ‘posed to go and have ladies night with the girls, but there is something else I reaaaaalllly wanna do… am calling and asking for permission to be off the hook now…
I think it’s ok! The thing is, NOSFERATU (!!! – as well as another silent film, Buster Keaton, Haunted House) is showing at ‘Isotermic’, and they are having live music to go with the film and, and, and… I think the girls are gonna let me go! Yay!
I don’t want them – or anybody – to think I’ve gone all ‘boy crazy’… wait. What in the hell am I saying?! Ok, I don’t want them to think I’ve gone all crazy over one specific, real (non-Vin/Jet/Benicio/Johnny/etc…) boy. ‘Cause that would be weird. Ew. : )

Oh wow! All the trick-or-treaters are coming in! the best so far is this pair of girls, one tall and super-slim, one short and stocky/busty (like me!) and they are dressed as a Pop Star and her Sugar Daddy!!! The pop star girl is in tights, plastic and pipe-wrapping with a nose ring and braids, and the sugar daddy has on a bowler, painted on goatee and moustache, tie, tuxedo shirt and suit trousers! Hee-yuhl yee-uh!
In 30 minutes, I get to go to the big town bash and read skewwwwwwy stories to the kids. I have my witch hat… and some good stories (King of the Cats!) picked out… weeee-eee-eeeoooooo!
Then, tonight, home, for meditation on The Reason for The Season, and to bed early – JEEZ, I NEED SOME SLEEP! - for work tomorrow.
Life is sweet. Pain was bad today, bad bad. But I am finding it easier to distract myself from it for some strange reason… : ) Mr. Nice Guy has been veryvery nice to me, extra special nice, and I am amazed at each new surprise, finding out who he really is, enjoying his company and his truly amazing personality (Levelheaded AND fun? Thoughtful AND spicy? Dead sexy AND dresses like me*? Oh wait, that one’s a given… : ) Neither of us have had this much fun in a while – way, way too long. He appreciates my strengths (unlike some boys, who just seem !@#$ terrified of me) and that makes me feel like exercising them – he gets all of my most obscure jokes, and he’s badass on the lego field, too! Sallie (who has been his friend MUCH longer than I have) said “Y’know, you two are perfect for each other… you both seem to be exactly what the other one needed right now. Yay!” Yeah. Yay!
So, that’s what’s happening in the life of Sam today.
I will do my best to keep the news good. Terry says that World Peace depends on it…***
Much love, and as much skwoosh and moo and “BLAH!” as you can stand,
-miss sam


*”Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, Glennnnnnnn…!!!”
**We actually met up to go out on Wednesday night dressed in little matching outfits – completely color coordinated, and in our iguana hides! Moo? Ew? Who cares? WHEEE!
***don’t ask.

hello, lovelies.
i am just stopping in to say please don't think i've run off to begin my vin-stalking adventure if you don't hear from me much in the next week.
the (AUGH!) state library is hosting three days of workshops next week and the STATE LIBRARY DIRECTOR (AAUUGGHH!) will be here, not to mention my boss, et. al, so the library has to be in tip-top, spankin' shiny shape. sallie and i (well, mostly sallie) are also taking care of the lunches and snacks for breaks (well, arranging catering and setting up, but still...) SO IT WILL BE CRAZY! am already crazy, but have sallie for help and moral support and comforting-adult-woman-who-still-remembers-that-she-and-all-the-rest-of-us-are-just-girls-words for all the behind the scenes ridiculousness (sheesh.)
in REAL, IMPORTANT, REAL-LIFE (stuff that REALLY matters) news:
spent evening with andi and aeryn, held aeryn for HOURS, offered andi same support that sallie gives me, told her that i would try to be more on the scene, now that i know she needs me.
aeryn let me play with her little helpless shell-less turtle self for a while, and then i held her while andi cooked, and she fell asleep on my shoulder. i put her in her crib and andi actually got to eat with both hands for a little while. andi is brave. they will be fine. i might need to have a little tete-a-tete with brian before all is said and done, but so-far, so-good. am trying to see all perspectives - and so is andi. i am lucky to be an aunt, all things considered.
hold fast, peoples.
i will sneak in and update when i can.
much love, and PEACE OF MIND,
-miss sam

Good day, good peoples. Pardon me if my rant is a bit (more than usually) fuzzy, I haven’t been getting much sleep lately… oh, no complaints, mind you, just a fact. Whee!

Also, I must apologize for the infrequency of my rants. I only have one place where I can use a computer for writing, and lately I have been VERY busy, both during the daylight and after-work hours, and I HOPE that I am at least giving you quality instead of quantity (ok, some of both) when I DO write! Big stuff is happening at work, the state libob is hosting a 3-day workshop @ my branch, and the STATE !@#$ LIBRARY DIRECTOR will be here. AUGH!
Oh, for some Calgon – and thank GODDESS for Mrs. Sallie Corley Phillips (my lovely assistant). She is like an angel (ok, a really goofy, slightly trashy*, VERY earthly one) sent from on high. When things are bad, Sillie Sallie can ALWAYS make me laugh, and together, we actually get $#*! done. Yay, me! I really don’t know what I’d do without her now.

So, news…
Looks like the faire is ALIVE! Woo! There was a little while when we were all worried (and veryvery alliterative) – SOME naysayers even pronounced it flat-line dead at one point – but certainly not without just cause. But the hardest part – getting a !@#$ committee together and in-sync has been achieved. Lisa and I knocked out a good storyline during our trip back from NOLA**, based on a suggestion I’d made back in early summer, and there was an unanimous yes vote on it! Fairy tales it is! I will be helping with the sets, and as far as I know, helping to direct the Chessboard, too. I have a couple of roles in mind for the audition, as well…
The biggest change is that we are going to get away from the medieval theme some (but not completely) and try to make it more kid-friendly and more educational. The idea this year is to take traditional fairy tale characters, scenes and situations and shake them up a bit. We’re going to balance that out by having a narrator and other story tellers also telling the traditional tales as well. I think it will be great fun, and that it will please and amuse everyone.

There’s a bit of sad news, too.
One of my long-time library patrons, Mr. Hugh Morgan died last week. Hugh was an interesting character, to say the very least. He was older, I’d say around 60, but he still had jet-black teddy-boy, ducktail hair and dressed like a 50’s teen. Immaculate cuffed jeans, pressed plaid or western shirts, boots, and a denim jacket. He always looked sharp, and usually smelled nice.
He came downtown every day and sat on one particular bench right outside Thompson’s’ General Store, and usually he always had a kind word to say***
Hugh lived with his mother, always had, and not surprisingly, she died only a couple of weeks before he did. Hugh was paranoid-schizophrenic, and he couldn’t read, or at least, not very much. He was often engaged in conversation with his “Little People”, who went everywhere with him, but he was never scary. He was actually a pretty sweet old guy. Every time he came into the library, he would stop in the little foyer and I could hear him instructing his Little People to be quiet while they were in here. (Oh, if only everyone was so considerate!) He always checked out movies, and his favorites were “The Gods Must be Crazy” 1 & 2. The reason that he enjoyed them so much – beside the fact that they are really wonderful, sweet funny movies, is that he believed that the lead actor - N! Xau – was his cousin. The fact that Hugh was a Caucasian/possibly American Indian man and N! is a Bushman from the Kalahari apparently didn’t really matter… He accrued late fees fairly often, because I don’t think he really understood the whole return-date phenomenon, but he never argued or groused about paying them. He would often say that he couldn’t pay until he got his government check, and he always came in when he said the check would be there and squared up. (Again, I say: if only everyone was so considerate…)
Apparently Hugh had cancer. If you asked how he was, he would list his general complaints, like we all do, and catch you up on his mom’s health, too. He had been having flu-like bouts lately, but he didn’t even know that he had cancer. I suspect that this was a blessing in a way. I certainly hope so.
Every day there have been offerings at the bench, baskets and bundles of flowers, but the bench still looks empty, and I miss his gravelly greeting – even if it was sometimes calling attention to the size of my tracts of land. :)
I think the world is like a puzzle sometimes, and you know how it is with puzzles. Some of the pieces are fairly straightforward, “oh, this is a duck – it goes here…”, some pieces, like corner and edge pieces are very important, and help to hold the whole thing together, some pieces are oddly shaped and obscure, but if even one of them – any one of them - is lost, then the whole puzzle is just never the same.
Thank goodness that you can make art from the odd pieces, huh?

And on an upbeat note… I am experiencing mad-boy-joy.
Huh?
As one of my friends said when I called and said “I think I have a boyfriend!”: “Sam, are you allright?!?!”
I am. As is completely to be expected, it’s a typical sam-love situation wherein I cannot even try to think about pretending to take the whole thing seriously in any “real-world” (“future” – gaaah!; “commitment” – gaaaaaH!!” “relationship” – GAAH@! etc.) sense of the word, but in the whole Queen Magpie, Empress of the Universe, Irrational Girl - Real-Me sense of the word (“joyful fun”, “great company”, “great conversation”, “like-mindedness”, “tender concern”, “great …” whatever. Etc. : ), it’s all just duck-lovely.
He’s a good friend, has been for some years. He’s very beautiful (chuh!), he’s really, really, unbelievably sweet and funny and kinda’ pleasantly dorky (yes, he’s a geek, he likes punk-rock and 80’s cheese – and most other music, he plays MAGIC, is a theatre vet and RTF student, loves and truly appreciates movies, and has a sartorial flair and elegance that I have always admired) and we have a really good time together.
He’s the first beau I’ve had since I’ve moved here that I not only want to bring around my friends (especially as he already knows a lot of them), but who wants to BE around my friends. And saints be praised – Stewart likes him and he likes Stewart!!!. This means a great deal to me. I know Stewart will probably get hives when he reads this next statement, but he really is my closest, most real boy-family here. Yes, that means brother, dad, uncle. I’ve got lots of other brothers, but none of those other others.****. He’s the big, responsible guy that looks after me and keeps me in line and helps me take care of the important things. This is a BIG job sometimes. He’s the emergency contact person, the one who knows me best, the one who, if something were to happen to me, could actually tell my family what in the hell I want done with my dog/stuff/body/etc. He’s the Royal Steward, no doubt. We go everywhere together (except !@#$ Burnsville) and when I am seeing someone and there is disapproval (not necessarily on Stewart’s part) or just sheer “hiding-out-of-shame”, then that cuts down on my fun Stewart and fun everybody else time, and that just bloody sucks. This nice bloke however, has gone on two big outings (Charlotte ren-faire and “Kill Bill”) with me and Stewart in the last week or so, and it has been sheer joy. They geek out and talk about... hell, I don’t know, I don’t listen, but that’s ok. It gives me more time to bask in – well, whatever the weather and mood is and have pleasant conversations with the imaginary fishes and passing trees.
I also suspect that he will blend (ie: be a complete nerd and play magic and eat good food and entertain himself/my friends/the kids) with my beloved Asheville/Rennie/
Geek Patrol crew, too.
YAY, ME!
And this, too. Not to kiss and tell (ew) but I just have to share a little. For the time being, for as long as it lasts, this is how he is, how he treats me (and he says I deserve it, and I know I do): yesterday he came by my work to say hi and let me see his cuteness… I complimented him on his “Walk Among Us” button (has always been my favorite Misfits art) and he took it off and pinned it on my sweater. Moo. Then, he was supposed to go to a party last night, so I went home to finish the flytrap tape I was making for him and clean house a little. I had brownies in the oven, the tape was almost done, laundry was tumbling, house all cozy, when Luna started the “SOMEBODY’S HERE!” barking. I thought “Who the !@#$ is here at this hour?!” – but BIG surprise, it was Mr. Smooshy-Boy! He hadn’t been able to meet up with the party people so he thought it might be ok to drop in. : ) While I was finishing the tape, we talked and laughed about the day, and then while we listened to the tape we played “air band” (he’s really good at it – almost as good as me! And I’ve never had anybody to play lead guitar, or any other instrument for that matter… it’s always just been me - “a girl and her air guitar”) and then while I finished making the case we laughed about my sad, cheesy taste in music and slow-danced in my dining room to my fave Jeff Buckley original. After that, we ate brownies and soymilk in my bed and before I went to sleep we skwooched up and he read me the first chapter of one of his favorite books (and not some dumb, cool boy book, either – a really gripping Southern Fiction novel by Donna Tartt (who was born and raised not far from my own home town).
So, MOOO!
Please don’t worry – those of you who worry. I am too old and too @!#$ realistic to be too dumb about this, but anybody who could blame me for “carpe momentum” needs a kick in the ass. Pain in life is a given, but joy is something that you have to look for, work for, and make the most of while you have it.
Make the most of it folks.
Much love,
-Miss “Going to Carve Pumpkins Tonight with my Asheville Fam” Sam


*in a good way
**btw, there are trip-pics at my ‘amusesam’ yahoo group, in the photo albums. Checkem’ out!
***I say this because the second to last time I saw him there as I was walking down the sidewalk he said “Girl, you’re gettin’ too fat!” I said “Hugh, don’t make me come over there and knock you offa’ that bench!”
****No Dr. Seuss jokes, please! And yes, I DO like green eggs and ham, thankyouverymuch!

Well, if i ever had ANY doubt that the Magpie was my "spirit animal", this pretty much blasts it into oblivion. Thank you, dear Hamilton for passing this on. It fortifies my spirit and my belief in myself (uh-oh, I'm gonna take over the world, now!), and really kinda' freaks me out with it's accuracy regarding my nature...
I've only been called "Magpie" since I met Sarah (Crowgirl - CG) so only a few years, but it's obvious I've been one my whole life.
Here are some neat facts and legends:

Intelligence
Like other members of the Crow family, Magpies can be very interesting to watch. They are social birds with a degree of intelligence that has enabled them to adapt to a changing environment.

In common with jackdaws, magpies are attracted to shiny objects(who, me?) and are notorious for stealing rings and other jewellery left on windowsills or tables out of doors.

Part Two FOLKLORE

China
The Chinese traditionally see the magpie as a bird of good fortune, except if you kill one when misfortune will arrive. Magpie is a symbol of happiness in Chinese culture. The singing of a magpie foretells happiness and good luck. That's why it is called 'Happy Magpie' by Chinese people. The Manchu minority in Northeast China even regards magpies as sacred birds. . Under the Manchu dynasty it also represented imperial rule (yeah, baby!). Legends concerning magpies are found in the historical records about Manchu. (By Ye Qinfa, China Online)

In both Chinese and Korean myths the Magpie Bridge joins the 3 bright stars of Aquila in the night sky, called the Cowherd, to Lyra, or the Spinning Damsel, across the river that is the Milky Way. This happens on the 7th night of the 7th moon.

Korea
Koreans believed that magpies delivered good news and invited good people (NO DOUBT!).The most famous painting related to a magpie is the one with striped tiger (ggach'i wha horangi minhwa): the magpie is happily chirping to a tiger. The magpie represented good news and the tiger symbolised good luck, since its pronunciation in Chinese sounds similar to good luck (bok).Another interpretation states that the magpie is the village spirit that announces good omens, and the tiger is the servant that does his bidding; another that the tiger is a yangban (aristocrat) and the magpie is the representative of the common people, scolding him for his insensitivity to their plight.
(Korean Symbolism of Animals & Birds)

Mongolia
The Magpie is a clever creature with control of the weather.(whoa!!!)

Germany
In Germany the number of birds, according to tradition, indicated forthcoming events. One is viewed as unlucky; two brings merriment or marriage; three is a successful journey; four is good news and five indicates you should expect company.

France
In Poitou* there still lingers a trace of pie-worship (WOOHOO!); viz. a bunch of heath and laurel is tied to the top of a high tree in honour of the magpie, because her chatter warns the people of the wolf's approach: 'porter la crêpe (pancake) a la pie,' Mém. des antiq. 8, 451.

Scandinavia
Under Christianity the same shift of superstition from lucky to unlucky occurred in Norse countries as across the rest of Europe. In old Norse mythology, Skadi (the daughter of a giant) was a priestess of the magpie clan. The black and white markings of the magpie were seen to represents sexual union, as well as male and female energies kept in balance. Later on in time, Scandinavians thought that magpies were sorcerers flying to unholy gatherings, and yet the nesting magpie was once considered a sign of luck in those countries.

Italy
The Magpie features in a Rossini opera, The Thieving Magpie, or La gazza ladra. This opera tells the story of a pet magpie that steals shiny objects, resulting in an innocent servant almost being sent to the gallows after being accused of the magpie's crimes. The story echoes the common belief that magpies steal and hide shiny objects. In some countries it is thought to chatter in a way that sounds like human speech. For example, in Italy it is known as gazza, and has given its name to gazetta, the Italian for newspaper.

Greece
It was sacred to Bacchus, the God of wine, so it became associated with intoxication. (!!!)

Britain
An old English tradition notes that if one magpie flies by, you should take your hat off and bow(yeah! Bow, Seamus!) repeating this line :
"Morning/Afternoon Mr Magpie. How's Mrs Magpie and all the little Magpies?"
This will help assure your good luck throughout the day.

One seen flying or croaking around a house or sitting alone symbolises that misfortune is present. Should a flock of magpies suddenly abandon a nesting area then, like the crow and rook, death is present and hard times are ahead. To avoid bad luck it is said that taking your hat off to the passing birds will act as protection against darker forces (see!). Perhaps these associations stem from the fact that it was the only bird that would not enter the Ark preferring to stay outside. It is one of the very birds that also has black and white plumage, a combination of the sacred or holy colour (white) and of evil (black).
To have one perch on your roof though is supposed to indicate that the house will never fall down. According to tradition it would be best to rearrange a journey if you see just one. If one is seen on the way to church it signifies that death is present, hence some believe that it is best to cross yourself to ward off evil or negative energies whilst saying 'Devil, Devil, I defy thee'.

In Somerset, England it was once thought that to carry an onion at all times would provide protection against magpies.

In Scotland the magpie was once believed to carry a drop of the Devil's blood under its tongue which perhaps stems from another belief that the magpie was the only bird not to wear full mourning at the Crucifixion.

The following rhyme was popularised by a children's TV programme of the same name
"One for sorrow, two for joy, three for a girl, four for a boy, five for silver, six for gold and seven for a secret never to be told."

Legend also has it that when a magpie's mate dies it summons an assembly of other magpies at which the dead bird is honoured before a new mate is selected.

In Celtic lore the bird was sacred to 'MAGOG.'

Australia
The magpie is seen in a negative, aggressive light. This may be because the Australian Magpie is of the Shrike (an aggressive hunter) family rather than the Crow family.

Native American
In general in Native American myth the Magpie is seen as the ally and helper of humans. They feature in legends from the Navaho, Blackfoot and Cheyenne


Part Three MAGIC
Magpie: "one of those clever birds that has shamanic qualities"

Symbolism
Related to the crow the magpie is an intelligent and adaptable bird. Ancient folklore associated with the magpie suggests that when two or more fly into ones life good fortune is coming soon. Since magpies are opportunists and seldom miss a chance to get something for nothing those with this medicine should pay attention to subtle omens that appear in their life then act accordingly so opportunities are not missed. The magpie asks us to wake up and be conscious in every area of our life.
Magpies are curious and have a reputation for stealing anything that they can carry away. They use whatever they find and teach us how to be resourceful. Magpie medicine people have the ability to succeed in life. Those with this totem are usually eclectic and able to draw on a variety of resources to assist them in their pursuits. Being able to adapt to different situations in a spontaneous way is one of the magpies strongest attributes. Those with this totem often find that their interests are varied which make master ship of any one thing difficult although not impossible.
Magpies are extremely vocal especially in groups. They help those with this medicine learn how to use their voice to attract attention, attain desired goals as well as acquire respect from others. This applies only if this medicine is developed sufficiently. Otherwise the voice and its expression may need improvement for positive results to be obtained. Proper communication is one of the lessons that needs to be learned by magpie medicine people .

Although many in the Norse tradition associate the Magpie with Skadi, because of the similarity of the name, I associate the Magpie with Loki's daughter Hel. Hel is described as having a face that is 'half blue-black and half flesh (or white) coloured' - like the Magpie's colouring. She rules the lowest of the Nine Worlds, at the base of Yggdrasil, as mistress of the chthonic mysteries. Like Asgardhr, Helheim (Hel's home) cannot be reached directly from Midgardhr - one must "ride over a bridge", or travel between worlds with the aid of one´s fylgia (usually a totem or sacred animal or Soul Companion and Guide). The bridge to Helheim crosses the river Gjoll and its guarded by the giant Maiden Modgudh. As Bifrost is fiery and narrow, the bridge to Helheim is icy and wide.

Helheim is also called Niflhel, meaning Misty Hel or Dark Hel, which refers to the Goddess´ primary aspect of concealment. Hel borders very closely on the world Nifheimr; it is located down and to the North, and it is the implied location of the venom-filled halls, on Na Strand, and home of the dragon Niddhogg, embodiment of the concealed powers of destruction/transformation. Hel is the hidden root to which all things sink, as all the waters wend their way to Hvergelmir, and from which all things rise again.

Although the realm of Hel is described as horrible in parts - the lifeless, lightless, joyless dwelling of the dead. It is written elsewhere that Hel is brightly bedecked and hospitable. She welcomes those who die of sickness, famine or old-age and even Balder resides there after his death. This dual nature can be seen in the figure of the goddess Hel herself: She is half a beautiful woman and half a corpse, her concealment both that of the womb and that of the tomb. Hel receives those souls who cannot struggle through to Valhalla, but in time, as her name Mother Holle suggests, she bears them forth again.

All of this tells us that the Magpie can be a double-edged sword. It requires mastery of your magpie spirit to achieve things, unmastered it will be self-destructive. Gossip, or uncontrolled chatter, and an unreasoning attraction to shiny things - be it materialistic objects, people or an inability to concentrate - spells danger just as oratory, or controlled chatter, concentration and the quick opportunistic observation can be used to devastating effect.

Naming
Name - Meaning - Language
-Mo'e'ha - Magpie - Cheyenne
-Maggie - Chattering female - Old English
-Magpie - Piebald chatterer - English
-ska?i [[skathe,]] (old norse), skata (swedish), skade (danish), scado (old high
german -hur!-) = harm, damage; loss; death - which may be referred to the abstract
notion of damnum
-pioghaid - Piebald? Or pighead (I RESEMBLE THAT REMARK!) - Gaelic
-Pia, pioden - piebald - Welsh

Tokens and Artwork:
The Magpie is difficult to find - both in the wild and your local shop! In Korea they appear in artwork and there is Monet's picture 'Magpie in winter' but other than that they are few and far between. Your best bet is to try and find a feather and wear it as a token just as the Cheyenne do.

The Tao Ying yang amulet would also be a good token as the Ying-yang symbolises the black and white of the Magpie and it's the sort of bright thing that would attract them. The number 7 is a significant number for Magpie people.

Sacred Times
Spring and Autumn - the black and white colour of the Magpie represents the balance between light and dark that occurs around the equinoxes. Also the high winds and changeable weather reminds us of the stormy change that the Magpie can bring into life. Dusk and dawn are the times to see Magpies and much like the equinoxes they are times when the balance between light and dark is equal.

The other time is dawn and dusk - a time when you are likely to see Magpie's cleaning the road.

The Magpie is also a symbol of astral travel.

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

The Magpie

By Robert S. Warshow, '33

I walked one day
In the Garden of Wasted Things,
And there I found
The bitter ghosts of all that had been spent unwisely,
Or lost through brutal circumstance.
I found the childhood
That some labourer's child had never known;
I found the youth that some young man had squandered;
There I found some poet's genius
That had gone unrecognised.
I saw the ghosts of idle words,
And small talk,
That men had used to waste away the hours.
I saw the hopes that had been smothered,
And all the dreams
That never had come true,
And Laughter that had died for lack of bread.
I met with all the lives that had been misdirected,
And spoke with dreary shades
Of loves that might have been,
And songs that never had been sung.
I met with all these ghosts,
And many more;
And each of them
Sat silently in the shadows,
Brooding over quirks of mad Creation,
And puppets' dreams.

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

Once again there aren't many traditional songs or chants that can be used to invoke Magpie. I often use the trance method (as mentioned below) to fly across the otherworld (uh huh. that an' a lotta magic mushrooms, 'probly).

Prophecy and Divination
You can use the traditional nursery rhyme:
One for sorrow, Two for joy, Three for a girl, Four for a boy, Five for Silver, Six for Gold, Seven for a secret never to be told
Or
One for sorrow, Two for mirth, Three for a wedding, Four for a birth.
Five for rich, Six for poor, Seven for a witch -- I can tell you no more.

For other tools things like mirrors that contain both dark and light, or other shiny objects would attract the Magpie spirit.

Dreamwork
In dreams the Magpie will signify opportunities coming into your life. The number seen will help signify what you should expect.

Magic Circles
When drawing the circle dress yourself in black and white and try alternate leg hopping (or visualisations as mentioned in trance below). You can dress in formal wear, a black bowler hat and tailcoat, with your thumbs in your waistcoat (just like in the old films), then bend yourself double, spread your arms out, spread your fingers wide and swoop round the circle to get that magpie feeling.

Trance:
I find that visualising the Magpie's movement, the way it hops, flexes it's tail and flies is the key to trance work. The brightness of it's beady eye will draw you in…

If you have a magpie spirit guide, once you get used to the visualisation, it becomes a hop, hop, fly to shift into the magpie.

Healing
************************
FAIRY OF THE MAGPIE BRIDGE

Poem by Qin Guan
Translation by Kylie Hsu

Among the beautiful clouds,
Over the heavenly river,
Crosses the weaving maiden.

A night of rendezvous,
Across the autumn sky,
Surpasses joy on earth.

Moments of tender love and dream,
So sad to leave the magpie bridge.

Eternal love between us two,
Shall withstand the time apart.

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

The Magpie is a strong healer for relationships, particularly those emotional hurts. In Chinese legend a bridge of Magpies is used for two star-crossed lovers to meet. It is the magpie's faithfulness to their partners and families which you can invoke to send a message to the Gods.
Try burning this poem or a drawing of the magpie with incense to speed the message on it's way.
******************
Protection

Magpie meal awaits:
Fast car - country lane - danger,
Fawn dead on roadside.

Haiku - DaRC
******************
Magpie's are excellent protectors and will call out their 'Caw, caw, caw' warning. So in that way forewarned is forearmed. They are also masters of evasion - often using the two of them to do the old 'one-two' on any opponent.
Invoke the Australian magpie for the fearless, aggressive aspect especially when protecting friends or family.


this all came from a REALLY cool site called The Druid's Grove!
the magpie info came from "Druid Lore" page - and here's the Raven link for my Crow family.
*as soon as i learn to pronounce it, i'm movin' there! ;)

Something strange has begun to dawn on me…
Despite everything (the fact that I am 1,000 years old, that I am 4 pounds shy of the heaviest I ever been in my life, that I am funny looking, I dress like a cross between a Laurel dyke(only the Mississippi peeps - and Stewart - will get this one), Oscar Wilde and a bag lady, I HATE to !@#$ shave, my house looks like a wizards’ hovel, my gramma’s house and a bookstore/art shop exploded, and I can be a really annoying and dumb person sometimes… for starters) – I am a “Hot Girl.”
How is this possible? How did this happen? How have I not really known this all along? And why I am I having such a hard time believing it?
Well, I guess the answers to all of these questions are fairly obvious. It’s possible because the world is a very strange place, and I know that and move through it (usually) bravely and with curiosity and some insight. How did this happen? Genetics, for a beginning – my parents and grandparents were all desirable, interesting people, my siblings and cousins are an odd but mesmerizing mixed bunch of sirens. My strange life and my attitude, intellect and talent added to the Circumstances of My Birth (god, I am SUCH a belle!) make a heady bouquet. My life pressed on me VERY hard growing up, and instead of breaking me, it made me unbelievably strong, gave me lots of stories to tell, and made me fairly universally empathic. Those are attractive – as well as sometimes frightening – qualities. (Well, they turn ME on… : )

How have I not known this all along? Because I’m human, and weak in places, just like everybody else. Because I live in America and beauty is SO subjective. Because I’m cynical about desire and love and sex. Because I have always had a hard time believing good things about myself, or that the good things outweigh the bad*.

And why the disbelief? See: all of the above.

Perhaps most importantly, why am I thinking/talking about this now? Because someone truly fabulous called me a Hot Girl last night. I’ve been called nice things before (by some pretty damned fabulous people, too), and hopefully will be again. I’ve been courted, pursued, stalked, admired, feted, loved, lusted after, celebrated, treated with respect, the subject of songs and poems and art… and it ALWAYS surprises me. Every time. ok. almost always. Sometimes extra especially. And a lot of times, it’s been the opposite. One boy that I lusted after told me that it could never happen because he only likes “anorexic chicks”**. One boy, THE boy, my then-and-still One True Love, told me that he was only attracted to me when he was close to me (perhaps nekkid, in the dark? Punkass.) and that memory will never leave me***. And lots of boys overlook me because I’m fat, or whatever, even some that I wish were better people than that – but I do understand. You want what you want. I am just as “guilty” of this as anyone. I just don’t think you should tell someone these things AFTER you’ve … taken physical advantage of their desire and admiration.
Despite those times, those people and those comments, it has been the good things that people have said and done that have helped to build my confidence. It’s the bad things (the ones that have been said to me and the ones I see in the mirror vs. magazine covers) that make me doubt, but it’s the confidence that makes me a Hot Girl. Maybe the doubt is the only thing that curbs my arrogance and perhaps that adds to the overall effect, too…
The one thing that people say to me again and again when courting or complimenting is that it’s the way I “carry myself”. Will (Justin) Martin told me in college that he wanted to meet me because when I walked across campus, it looked as if my “feet didn’t even touch the ground”. Moo. I think it’s that I love myself, and I love life. And that shows.

What physical beauty I do have will fade – is fading. I have been feeling pretty… faded since I hit 35. I’ve had a lot of sad, funny, cynical thoughts about love and sex and romance in the past several months, and I’m sure that they will come again – with a vengeance. I had decided to give it up, just be asexual (yeah, me and Morrissey) and try hard not to care, and to learn some more about myself and the world. And all of this was affecting my attitude in a bad way. It’s just not me.
The ‘someone fabulous’ who made this nice comment last night is a bloke that I’ve long desired and admired. He is an especially beautiful person, inside and out, but someone that I would never have a chance of dating, due to life on earth being like it is… But despite life on earth being like it is (or maybe because of it) we’ve become very close friends – maybe even close enough to do away with some “despites” for a bit. Who knows? But something about the time and place, the mood and conversation when he made this comment (one of many nice things he’s said to me over the years), and I guess the particularly piquante blend of this gentleman’s OWN hotness really hit me. I thought “Wow. I’m a Hot Girl. Still. Wow.”
I honestly wish that everyone had this feeling. SO many of my friends do, and it is such a joy to celebrate it with them. I never really thought “Does K__ (or M__, or B__, or A__, etc.) doubt his or her attractiveness? Are they even really AWARE of how beautiful, sensual, delightful, amazing and attractive they are?”
I’ve always thought that it was one of my jobs in the Universe to try to let these people know. And it’s nice to realize that I believe that my opinion on this subject really matters.
So does yours, “X?”, and all of the rest of you who go out of your way to make myself and others feel good about ourselves.
Thank you, bless you.
AND ROCK YOUR OWN HOTNESS, PEEPS!
xo
-s

*THIS, however, I have been working on for a LONG time, and continue to do so, everyday. I’ve made a lot of progress…
**or MAYBE he was ticked off because I turned him down the very first time he tried to put the make on me because I was SIXTEEN and COMPLETELY clueless… sheesh.
***there’s times when I think that maybe alzheimer’s wouldn’t be SO bad…

Well, New Orleans is still standing, and so are Lisa and I*, woo-hoo!
Needless to say, we had an Official blast. Despite the seeming rush of it all, we didn’t push ourselves too hard, and yet we still managed to do everything on the agenda PLUS some…
Lisa got to my house before I’d even gotten home from work. We chilled and she kept me company while I packed and did last minute things. Stewart came and picked up Luna** and visited a while, and then Lisa and I retired for the evening.
We left five minutes BEFORE our planned departure time, picked up some bad breakfast and hit the road. We’d both brought lotsa road tunes, and we talked and sang and laughed and joked about ‘rud wuhkas*** and the miles sped by.
We got to Fat City around 7, and no one was at Jennifer’s crib, so we went to the Winn Dixie down the skreet to use the potty. (The security guard - who had an ENORMOUS thong hanging from his rearview mirror… well, it might have been a thong. It COULD have been a !@#$ parachute harness. Jeezis! - made me go back outside and put on shoes.
Can you believe it? What is the South coming to?!)
When we got back to Casa de Jennifer (and hot black guy with 3-5 kids –it’s a shotgun duplex… so, a “double barrel”, I guess. Hur!) they still weren’t there, so I leaned against the fence and munched on devil’s food cookies and waited. When the car came down the street, I saw a girl in the passenger seat and even though I’d never met Jennifer, I knew it was them, because her eyes got bright when she saw me. I stood up and followed the car as they were parking, and looked in the windows. Tedd thought I was a crack head bag lady. Go fig. But at least he was surprised. Boy was he. He seemed stunned for about an hour. But then Jennifer brought out the Turbo Dog and the gossip started flying, and the catching us started happening, and it was just like old times. Tedd took Lisa and I to “Bud’s Broiler” (the pic on the left) for some WONDERFUL greasy-@$$ flame-broiled bbq burgers and chili-cheese fries, and we went back to the house and ate on the porch. When we wound down (which took forever – Jennifer actually shoved Tedd out’ the door) we went to sleep and slept like babies.
Next a.m. I sprang up, hit the shower, Lisa was next, and we were outtie in plenty of time to meet Aunt Mary at the Café Du Monde (we sat at this very corner table) for beignets (yes Lisa, pronounced like “Vin, yay!”) and café au lait. It was sweet to sit with Aunt Mary, even though The Topic came up (see Wed. Jan 22 and Thu. May 22 rants), and there was a tiny bit of “Sam, why do you continue to be such a horrible person to your mother?” stuff, but I understand, and I can’t tell them why, because there is enough hurt already. And as I was telling the lovely and extremely smooshable X? last night, the only way that I can love my mother anymore is by accepting the Horrible Mean Lying Bitch tag and letting her keep a good grip on her denial and allowing her family to defend her and think I’m awful. C’est la vie. I think they all know this, deep down, including Josie, and I think they all love me. That just has to be enough, I guess.
We dropped Aunt Mary off at the house, agreeing on a time to meet there for dinner – I’d volunteered to bring Muffalettas and she said she’d make tea (MM! It’s a family talent! : ) and Lisa and I headed off to UNO.
The campus was nice – I’d never seen it. I sat at a picnic table under a pine tree and drew and watched the beautiful, sundry young people go by while Lisa did her thing. By the time she was done, it was lunch time, we were very hungry, and so we headed back to downtown. By this time, Lisa was driving like a local (WOW!) and we found the restaurant – Mother’s, it’s my all-time favorite – we had a debris poboy (debris is the bits of the roast that fall off while it’s cooking), a half-and-half (mixed fried oyster and shrimp, oh my god…) a big bowl of jambalaya, and a big bowl of gumbo. It cost a fortune, but it was well worth it, and despite thinking that we’d have leftovers – we did NOT! : ) OOOO-WEE!
After Mother’s we went on down to the Quarter to shop. Our first stop was at O’Flaherty’s for a ½ pint and then we walked in circles for a moment so I could “get my bearings”****. We hit Royale and some of my faves there – Three Dog Bakery, for Lu-treats, and The Mystic Curio, which is where I bought the pentacle I wear every day, and some antiquey spots. Then we hit a side street for Esoterica and some cute girlie-boing-boing shops (one where I saw a shirt that said “W.W.J.J.D.? – What Would Joan Jett Do?” EE!). Then we stopped and bought muffs for dinner (“Save a Dago, Eat a Muff!”) and headed over to the French Market
for some SERIOUS souvenir shopping…
After that, we headed back into the quarter, where I bought myself a beee-yootiful antique cotton Hawaiian shirt, and found a pretty boy a pretty piece of jewelry. By the time we were broke, it was just about time to get over to Aunt Mary and Uncle Eddie’s for dinner.
Lisa got there with no trouble at all, and Mary and Eddie were leaning on the fence, chatting with a neighbor and waiting for us. It was so good to see their faces, to feel HOME. We ate and talked and had some DURN good iced tea, and after dinner, Aunt Mary pulled out some family photos. It was so sweet, I honestly hated to leave, but it was getting late, and we had one more date.
With the very best kinds of hugs and kisses still lingering on my skin, we drove back to Jennifer’s place (once more, may I commend Lisa’s amazing driving and navigational skills!) and upon arrival we were treated to a very festive sight.
Miss Jennifer, who is truly super-model stunning (as well as a !@#$ BRILLIANT lawyer) was out on her porch painting her door in a see-through coverall with some VERY fancy red lace Victoria’s Secret style lingerie on. I am sure that the neighbors were pleased. Let me add here that this lady welcomed us (complete STRANGErs) into her home, served us Turbo Dog, and generally just made us feel like family. Before the visit was over, I felt like I’d adopted another sister – especially when she said “Tedd, if I find Sam a job, can I keep her?” (And also, let me add, “YAY, TEDD!!! You get all that girl AND the !@#$ leather mini pirate costume, etc. WOO!!!”)
Before long, Albatross (xoxoxoxox!) and Tedd showed up, and we all primped and headed out to the Quarter. Before we’d even gotten very far into our Evil Frozen Drinks, Styb’s (aka Albatross) wonderful Lady Donna and Tedd’s WAY-smokin’ co-worker Spencer had arrived, and the Bourbon Street Crawl (Lite) got under way. The boys and girls all had a beer or two, Lisa and I were drinking 190 Antifreeze – served to us by one of the most charming, handsome, almost shy, sweet gentlemen I have ever had the good fortune to make a fool of myself in front of, John Paul. (HI, JOHN PAUL! If you go to Bourbon St., stop in at the Mango Mango and say Hi to John Paul for me. Tell him I said he has beautiful eyes. : ) I bought a good cigar, we caught some beads, I met a VERY cheesy, cute vampire dude, and we strolled and laughed and made dumb injokes and told dirt on each other until I felt like I was home again.
When the drink – not to mention the age and responsibility factor – kicked in, we all (except for Spencer, moo!) went to the Café Du Monde for more old-school talk, discussion of European Union Law (I’m telling y’all, this Jennifer is one unbelievably awesome lady) and last goodbyes.
Then Tedd took us home, and before long (but after the Pirate Costume modeling and Live Nude Girls show) we were buzzing about the day like slumber party teens and fighting sleep.
We lost, but we slept well, and were ready for the trip back home after a really nice breakfast gleaned from La Boulangerie and the nice little coffee shop next door. There was more girl talk – we’d convinced Jennifer to come with – and much reluctance to leave. Moo.
The trip home was nice, tired and sleepy. Road Warrior extraordinaire Lisa put in her tunes and let me read and nap. Towards evening, we worked on faire stuff, and we were home by 10:30. Lisa drove on, Stewart brought Lu-girl home, and I was very happy to see my dof and my bed – despite the fact that I really hadn’t wanted to leave.
Thank you, Lisa. Thank you Stewart. Thank you Jennifer, Teddy, Albatross, Donna, Spencer. Thank you, Aunt Mary, Uncle Eddie, John Paul, Lisa’s cute doctor, those two precious guys at the Second Skin, that sweet boy who sold me my lovely necklace…
Thank you to the guy in O’Flaherty’s and to all the people who helped make this one special day.
I needed it.
MUCH love,
-Miss Sambolina Magda-Pie


*Well, actually right now, I’m obviously sitting, but you get my point. Sheesh.
**Not to embarrass him, but he is SUCH a good “uncle” to her. It is SO hard to leave that girl when I go away, and yet, I never worry, and she is always happy and excited to go with him. AND she always returns with extra rawhide treats. ‘Spoilin’ my dog… yay! Thanksx573,000,000, ‘rats.
***write me at amusesam@yahoo.com if you don’t know what I am saying here, and I will explain.
****scope a hot dude.