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.

i'm sorry i've been so slack, lately y'all. i promise it isn't intentional. not only have i been psycho-busy (sallie's wedding, getting geared up to host state library workshop, getting ready for little trip, working extra, worrying about health and trying to squeeze in some semblance of a social-life*) but i've been pre-occupied with thinking really hard about life.
don't worry, i won't subject you to all of those observations right now... but i will warn you that i am taking notes.

sallie's wedding was SO wonderful. it was a golden day, and sallie and bryon made so many people happy by throwing this great bash and allowing us to help celebrate such a happy event.
i got invited to the rehearsal dinner on friday night, mm, bigfatnice steak dinner (at a restaurant where i used to work, nonetheless) and we all had a ball. THANK YOU FOR THE DINNER, PHILLIPS' AND FAMILIES OF!
then on sat. a.m. i got up and got my act together, went and collected TONS of wildflowers and flowers from helen's garden and greens. i got to the camp (camp pinnacle, near carl sandberg's home) where the wedding and reception were to be held at about 1:00. there were already people there setting up, and lots of people brought lots of flowers, so we had plenty of beautiful stuff to work with.
sallie's crew was SO tight, we got the old gym decorated to the hilt with wildflowers, tulle, xmas lights, and LOTS of love, and we had fun doing it. we finished just in time for me to get dressed and get ready to help the ladies get dressed. i got to powder sallie and all the maids with shimmer dust and then do sallie's make-up and put the flowers in her hair. we were done precisely on time, and i got my seat - between the handsome and gentlemanly X? and my own gorgeous girl, ms. luna.**
the wedding was unbelievably simple, sweet and lovely. my favorite thing was all the dogs running around sallie and bryon while the sun glinted off of the lake and made all of our eyes water... yeah, right. UBER-moo!
the reception was wonderful, too. good food, and again, the dog pack circling the tables and making the most of their good time. lester, the photographer's plot-hound, howled when the dj played bluegrass, people danced and conga'd and felt very very happy and alive. i know, i was there.
after the reception, the bonfire, and the SERIOUS partay began. we all crossed the rope-bridge over the cold lake in the middle of the night, drank much red-wine and then wound our way to cold cabins and warm arms.
it was so wonderful, thank you again, phillips'. you are a blessing, and you are blessed.

now, i am off to join lisa and pack for OUR TRIP TO NEW ORLEANS TOMORROW!!!
!@#$-A!!! oh god, i really hope teddy doesn't read this and spoil the surprise...
:) oh well, if he does, then he'll be ready and waiting - TAKE YOUR HAIR DOWN, TEDDY!
I'M BRINGIN' MY THONG!!!***
and if i DID spoil the surprise, DON'T TELL JENNIFER!
wish us luck. hell, wish NEW ORLEANS luck! ah, there's only so much damage we can do in one day.
back on wednesday, with stories to tell (and back to the !@#$ doctor on thursday).
much love,
sambolina, queena the geeks


*ie: trying to get buffy to feed me and chasing/running from boys.
**YES, NOT ONLY WAS I WELCOME AT THIS WEDDING (AND rehearsal dinner) BUT SO WAS MY DOG. hmph.
***don't ask. it's a long-running joke... at least, i THINK it's a joke... hm...

"When we hold each other, in the darkness, it doesn't make the darkness go away. The bad things are still out there. The nightmares are still walking.
When we hold each other, we feel -- not safe, but better. "It's all right," we whisper. "I'm here. I love you." And we lie, "I'll never leave you."
For just a moment or two the darkness doesn't seem so bad. When we hold each other."

from "Hold Me", a short story by Neil Gaiman.

this quote swam up from the text of a comic collection (Midnight Days) last night and shook me hard. One of my library kids - and friend 12-year-old Abe Thomas also sent me a poem - the day that i was to get the results of my MRI - last week, and i thought that the echo was more than a coincidence. abe said i could share his poem here.
he wrote:

"this is a short one that i thought up in like 4 seconds but any way it's not about any one just for fun:
'i need some one to hold someone who wants to be held to somebody like you as long as this is true i will always thy who wants to be held too'
it's okay i think it's not one of my best but who care's don't worry be happy
FROM. HONEST ABE"

we all want to be held when it's dark and things are scary, whether we can admit it or not. we all want someone to hold. puppies, babies, old folks, and even us big tough orc kings and queens. i've saved all my concerned and loving phone messages and e-mails. it's definitely the next-best thing.
i love you all. i wish i had a thousand sam-sweatshirts so i could cut off the sleeves and mail them to you in a package with instructions on how to put the sleeves on your arms and then wrap them around yourself and squeeze, so you could have a hug from me, like someone most dear did for me many many moons ago when i really needed to be held...
as my heatherita says:
"Muchas Skwooches"!
ooxooxooxooxooxoox (extra hugs)
-sambolina-wise

p.s. expect Tales from Sallie and Bryon's Wedding soon!

hello, lovely peeps!
our library is trying to build a new main branch, and they are fundraising like crazy. in order to help out, i did a painting and donated it for a raffle. i am selling tickets and i have made a vow to sell at LEAST 100.
to see this lurvely (I think) piece, go to my amusesam yahoo group http://groups.yahoo.com/ (if you haven't joined yet, enter "amusesam" - without quotes - in the "JOIN" box, and then do whatever it says - an no one gets hurt... :) look at the photo called "Storytime" - click on "full size" to see the details (there are 9 hidden creatures! see if you can spot them all!)
the tickets are 1$ each, or 6 for 5$, and i would LOVE it if one of my friends won this...
i will bring tickets to the next geek out, and leave some with buffy, or call, write, and i will make sure you get tickets!
xoxoxoxo
-sam

i will spare y'all the horror of the ultrasound experience. i will also give y'all a moosh-break. but i feel compelled to give y'all something worth a damned...
so here are some things that means a lot to me:

God's Grandeur

The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man's smudge and shares man's smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.

And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs—
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.

-Gerard Manley Hopkins


-and, for balance:

the lesson of the moth

i was talking to a moth
the other evening
he was trying to break into
an electric light bulb
and fry himself on the wires

why do you fellows
pull this stunt i asked him
because it is the conventional
thing for moths or why
if that had been an uncovered
candle instead of an electric
light bulb you would
now be a small unsightly cinder
have you no sense

plenty of it he answered
but at times we get tired
of using it
we get bored with the routine
and crave beauty
and excitement
fire is beautiful
and we know that if we get
too close it will kill us
but what does that matter
it is better to be happy
for a moment
and be burned up with beauty
than to live a long time
and be bored all the while
so we wad all our life up
into one little roll
and then we shoot the roll
that is what life is for
it is better to be a part of beauty
for one instant and then cease to
exist than to exist forever
and never be a part of beauty
our attitude toward life
is come easy go easy
we are like human beings
used to be before they became
too civilized to enjoy themselves

and before i could argue him
out of his philosophy
he went and immolated himself
on a patent cigar lighter
i do not agree with him
myself i would rather have
half the happiness and twice
the longevity

but at the same time i wish
there was something i wanted
as badly as he wanted to fry himself

-Don Marquis

much love,
-sam

Well, despite all behavioral evidence to the contrary, my MRI came back perfectly normal. Actually, it showed that I have sinusitis. Someone told me that this is like, a 2,000$ test. I have no idea how much of it my insurance will pay. To tell me that I have sinusitis.
At least it’s not a brain tumor.*
My blood tests also came back normal – with the exception of an elevated white blood cell count, which could be easily related to the sinusitis.
Meanwhile, I am getting weaker every day. Mornings are ok. But by afternoon, I’m shot. And it always seems to get worse after I eat.
So, Dr. Jeff took more blood this morning, testing for some sort of adrenal issues. Blahblahblah. Someone very “kindly” pointed out this morning “he probably just needs a new boat.” Thanks people. This is helping.
NOT.
Everyone else IS helping though. The calls, the e’s… (Dean, man, you are too precious. Mike. Moo.)** the Buffy-Breakfast-Love. You all know that it’s hard for me to be ‘baby’. I’m not good at it, and the connotations are too much for my delicate (but apparently very normal. Ha!) brain to handle. You have all managed to be sweet and thoughtful and sentimental and kind and concerned and just make me feel loved and appreciated and worried about. This means the world to me. I hope y’all all won’t too disappointed & feel like y’all have wasted all this concern and kindness if I turn out to be ok.***
So tomorrow a.m. I have an ultrasound. I am supposed to drink SIXTY-FOUR OUNCES (isn’t that a !@#$ gallon?!) of water at 7 am and hold it until after this is done. (it allegedly BEGINS @ 8:30) HAHAHAHAHA! These people are INSANE! I am going to try, nonetheless, but I tell you, it sounds like an accident waiting to happen…Hurhurhur.
Sorry.
So that’s where I am on that particular map.
On the map of my head – well, the Orc Queen issues are eating me up… but I am not turning my back on them. I am pondering and puzzling it through, like a good little OCD patient. : )
And as for the map of my heart, I am torn between a kind of loneliness and fear that I didn’t even imagine was possible for me, and between amazement at the love and gentle concern my friends are so effusively heaping onto me. It seems impossible that both conditions could exist together, but c’est moi – or perhaps, c’est la vie.
And speaking of friends and effusive love… Today, October 1st, is my favorite day of the year. I usually take the day off from work and do something amazing for myself (I’ve gone on trips to flea-markets, rented rooms for the pool and luxury of it, gone to foreign places – like South Carolina – with Lu, taken long hikes inna woods, I saw my first live Opera by chance on one of my 10/01 adventures once, Madame Butterfly, too…) This year, in all the hubbub, it slipped my mind to take the day off. So I sat at work. I did have a nice lunch cup of coffee (appetite has gone out the window, but I’m still gaining weight. !@#$ lovely…) with a beautiful sweet boy and his even more beautiful sweet dog. I made him laugh. That was nice. And the day’s still not over… Maybe I will go home and take Luna out somewhere nice. : ) But no matter what I do today, I realize that Goddess has given me a permanent October 1st prezzie. Today is the birthday of one of the most beautiful, wonderful people I have ever had the good fortune to con into liking me. I’ve mentioned her and her many good deeds here time and again, but my words and even this photo of her on a Harley (there’s a Harley?) just can’t do justice to this amazing lady.
Buffy, happy birthday! I am so proud to be your friend and a member of your family. Thank you for all that you do, and for just being you. Much love, respect, and admiration. I hope we have years of back-door giggles ahead of us. I’ve been celebrating your birthday all of my life – I just didn’t know why until I met you! :D
And to all of my friends, even the ones I haven’t met yet, I wish you good things on this day. Fall is here, winter is coming, Carpe Diem!

Oh, and before I forget – happy birthday to Selma, too! Hers is today, and her sister Ayla’s is on my second favorite day of the year – May 1st!

Much love – and lots of cups of tea,
-Samwise


*or an HOMUNCULUS!!!!
**My MOTHER even wrote. And her note didn’t send me into terrified hyperventilation or make me want to put my fist through the wall – or even delete it from the page.
hm. i wonder if i should tell the doc about that, too?
***this is at least partially a joke.

well, howdy.
*sigh*
:)
life is actually pretty ok today. stewart just reminded me that i have one more day before i have to go to the doctor, and i am going to spend that day enjoying a day with buffy and returning a few of her own million kindnesses by helping her clean the house she just moved out of THAT IS FOR RENT. CHEAP! nice place too. e me if you're interested. :)
i also went to a lovely briday shower for Principessa Sallie. all her royal court and fam were in attendance. the food was good, the company pleasant, and the scenery insurpassable ladies, thank you.
tonight i am going to see 'once upon a time in mexico with stewart, so today will have been a day totally devoted to the appreciation of beauty.
to continue in this vein, i also offer you a newly updated day off for your viewing and philosophizing pleasure.
:)
man, i am such a cheeseball.

do enjoy the updates. there's a new cartoon (#30! whoa.), an updated hottie of the fortnight (ow!), and something for you fellows to smile about, too. the new photo gallery is from the album cover and promo shoot that i did for The Whiskey Sisters (www.whiskeysisters.com), and they are simply stunning. the pictures are nice, too.
i suppose if you're reading this, then you don't need the URL. i will however, mail the URL to those slackasses of you who don't read my webpage.
and let me know what you think. sign my guestbook, or write me @ amusesam@yahoo.com.
xo
-s



*yes, one of the whiskey sisters - see the new photo gallery - hubba hubba! @ http://www.samsdayoff.com/gallery1.html)

Well, just when you think things can’t get any worse…
This morning before work (after my 2nd cup of coffee, when I became awake enough to see and feel) I noticed that the area around the aforementioned little red dot and bruise on my forearm (and yes, this is my RIGHT arm) has turned an angry red. There is a comet shaped swath of red swelling running up my arm from the place where they injected that dye. The tail of the comet currently ends about three inches above my elbow.
Not good, I think. I have called the doctor, am waiting for a call back. If he tells me this is nothing to worry about, I am going to march down to !@#$ St. !@#$ Luke’s and give him such a horrible wedgie, this mf is gonna WISH he was Tobie …

Wedgie time.
He did call. He said put a heating pad on it.
!@#$ % ^&%$#!! !@$!!!
Y’know guys, I’m really kind of losing heart here. I know that this is a horrible thing to say, considering how hard my friends – Red, Mike, RobB., Buff, Brett, Stewart, Sallie, Joe, El, Ken, etc., are working to keep me up, but that should give you some idea of how scary and worrisome this all is. I can say this – if it weren’t for y’all, I’d be up the proverbial scatological creek without a paddle, or even a frikkin’ BOAT for that matter.
Needless to say, I am in a place where laying up and taking care of my arm is not feasible, but one of my “customers” is bringing me a heating pad (moo.) and I will have some potential shift-relief this afternoon, so if it doesn’t start looking better (or hurting less) I can take off and go back to the !@#$ emergency room (maybe I can get ANOTHER !@#$ staph infection or what-the-hell-ever to put a heating pad on while I’m there…) this afternoon…
RAAR!
MOO!
I just want to lay on my couch, or on a blanket in my yard and cry, for about two weeks.
I want my dad to come and rub my back and tell me b.s. stories.
I want to be back on the top of the Ferris wheel with my brothers.
I want to be holding hands with Jeff in the Lord of the Rings.
I want to be back at GS camp with my sister.
I want Charlyn in the bed next to me, telling her old fever dreams*.
I want Bo to come and sit and gift me with his soothing presence.
I want my mom’s ham grits and aunt Sue’s singing in the kitchen and gramma Winnie’s lemon pie and gramma Bertie’s hair-brushing and papaw Joe’s smile.
I want someone to stand up for me with these stupid doctors and hold my hand through the needles part.
I want to be well and ok again so that I can bear my normal amount of hurt.
This is too much.
Too much.

I’m sorry y’all. This is definitely the real-life diary of a real-life girl. I promise you that no one is more sorry than I am that the rants are not less pitiful and more fun these days. Please bear with me. Y’all are my world, my hope, my loves, my family, my all. I know that I am spread too thin, always, even at the best of times. I need to call Charlyn, I need to see Sue and Winnie, I need to write Mandy, I need to make contact with the Austin folks, I need to write Rory, I need to e Shawn… and there are obligations and promises and work and desires here, too… I will never, even if I live another 40 years, manage it all. I’d like to try, though, and I thank you all from the bottom of my heart for not giving up on me despite how preoccupied and stretched out I always am. Alway Sam
Maybe a tour of the US is what I really need. Tennessee(Thornhills), Kentucky(Pablo), Georgia(Gaijin), Florida(Queen Bees), Mississippi(Kings and ‘Burgers and ‘CoastalFolk), Louisiana(Tedd), Texas(AustinPeopos), Arizona/NewMex(desert), Cali(J&E, Supaks, Unk) – and all the hot-spots and weird-ass tourist traps in between and above.
Well, at least as long as I can dream, I know I’m still in the game.

And I'll apologize now for all the apologies and the pleas for tolerance and understanding. It will probably get worse before it gets better.
All my love and gratitude for all of y'alls' concern, calls, letters (Mike, Rob.B. - y'all are die-hard, old-school, true homies. I love you dearly.). These are truly the things that are keeping me going right now.
-sam

*one time, the last time i had pneumonia, she lay in bed with me while my fever raged - 107 before they finally took me to the hospital - and she told me that once, when she had a bad fever, the ceiling tiles seemed to be shifting and sliding around and that it gave her a feeling "like biting into a marshmallow and hitting a brick". I felt that in my teeth then, even in the middle of a 107 temp. and i have NEVER been able to forget that. now neither will you.
heh heh heh...

It was something about seeing that white cotton ball taped to my right forearm, the same arm with the bar-coded plastic white name bracelet. No rings on my fingers, no bracelet, all my armor gone, suddenly I just felt mortal. Terribly big, soft, vulnerable, easily breached (those needles slide into your skin like water), and ultimately ending. The whole MRI experience does that. The tube is so small, and the experience so surreal. I was afraid, but also dazed. I was un-drugged – I’d even foregone caffeine and sugar for the day so that my brain might look as nice as possible for it’s photo. That hospital smell does something to you. And I spent a lot of time there as a kid, so all of that came back to me, too. Ken was there, and our lightest possible conversation (which, with Ken, is never too light – except for all of the soap-opera jokes) kept me from winding up too much. There was an elderly lady there, and her fear was heavy. We’d both been waiting long past our appointed time. The machine (which was in the trailer of an 18-wheeler in the hospital parking lot) had “broken” and we were delayed. Before I left with the nurse, she asked me to please hurry. I promised her and myself that I would do my best.
I suppose the extreme surreality began when we left the hospital and walked outside. I’d expected room, concrete walls, machines. When we turned the corner and I saw the trailer, tommy-lift down, music coming out, glimpse of strangely wallpapered (a giant beach scene with sailboats covered the entire inside, wherever there were no machine parts and cabinets) inside, and these attendants. I wasn’t sure how I was to get in there, and then I realized I was to step onto the lift. The man who operated it treated me as if I were elderly, infirm, lightly putting his hand underneath my forearm. They, this man and the very bovine (not so much in her size or shape, but the quality of her expression) lady who were the nurses, commented on my little friend, my Scrump doll I’d brought for physical comfort, something tiny and good to hold and squeeze. I tried to make it easy for them, and I think they were grateful. Papers were signed, some minimal description of the process, double-checking for metal items (they had to tape down the zipper on my sweater and take my safety pins out), and then they asked me about music. I chose classical, because they couldn’t pick up 88.3, and before they put me in I made them change the music because the first song was a classical rendition of that ‘Titanic’ song.
Yeah, right.
Better music chosen, big headphones on my head and then a big plastic cage, like a medieval helmet, maybe. Then the touchie boy nurse put pads around my head, and slid me into the tube. I opened my eyes long enough to know where I was and then I kept them closed except during the worst of the noise, in the depths of the surrealism, when my curiosity wouldn’t hold. I thought about beaches and skies, I thought about what the pretty Asian nurse had said as she walked me to the truck*, I tried to make exciting patterns for the MRI by thinking about certain things when I thought that it was scanning, and just squeezed Scrump and tried to be really still. After a while, they slid me out and without undoing my head proceeded to inject me with dye (which I had not expected and was not happy about). As soon as my head was out of the larger tube I asked the girl-nurse “What do you do about really fat people?” she answered, but I couldn’t read her lips through the bars and Dvorjak was drowning out her words. I said “I can’t hear.” And when the music was turned down I heard her saying that “Really fat people can’t have them. Sometimes they can do an mmmrmrmrm…” I gathered there’s some kind of ‘just-head’ open device thing. I thought – and told her – about dad.
The dye immediately made me feel swimmy, but no worse, and so I didn’t say anything. I knew that little old lady was waiting. I was desperate to be out.
Only minutes this time, and I tried to sit up and and felt woozy. I also felt that I’d been changed somehow. I felt smaller and softer and just different. I know now that it was the cottonball, from the place where she’d injected that dye. And the symbol of it, the symbol of having to have my brain measured and checked, the symbol of needing this nurses’ hand on my forearm, of having had blood drawn and tested, having been injected with foreign substance with a radioactive suffix.

I know it’s hard to see, but I AM an orc-girl. I am a giant, part-troll, made of rock and wood, just enough blood and bone to keep me pretty. Ogre-Queen, with my earrings and bracelets and rings, copper, metal, silver armor. Tusks, under bite, topknot, and throne. This is how I see and feel myself; it’s how I have to, to make it through each day. My forearms look normal, are scarred and pale underneath, but they feel like warm, bark-stripped branches. But this morning, seeing this tiny bruise above that blue-green vein, the red dot where the needle slid right in, with no resistance, remembering the nurse apologizing for having to search for a place big enough in my small veins (they had to use baby needles to draw the 8 tubes of blood) and seeing my naked wrists, fingers, ears; staggering a little as I walked alone – well, with Scrump – back into the hospital on a fine, strange fall day, I realized that I am very human, and can be very easily broken and destroyed. I realized that I am on my own, and as vulnerable as anybody and I am very very scared.
When I was little, I learned quickly that to be anything less than SuperWoman was foolish, and dangerous. You could not slip, mentally or physically, or you would be taken down in the worst ways. Locked up, held down, cornered and brutally manipulated, and then abandoned. Thus a spiky Ogre Queen grown inside a cute, bouncy, rosy girl with eyes that probably should have been water and sky, not smoke and steel. I can’t express how painful it is to me to see that there are some things that even I can’t fight. Men with fists and sticks and intentions are nothing to me, but my own humanity and mortality – a cottonball taped to my arm – is enough to bring me to my knees.

I will still fight. I don’t know how to do anything else, but no matter what turns out to be wrong with me – and I know they may even say ‘nothing’ – I am changed. I know something now that I can’t un-know.
I know this, too. I have not seen enough of the world, of even my own country. I have not seen enough of the people I love and the people I don’t know. I haven’t seen a desert. I haven’t been in a boat on a river in far too long. I haven’t eaten in enough truck stops, walked enough roads with my dog, or seen The House on the Rocks, or the biggest ball of twine in Minnesota, or New York. I do not want to die – next year, or in 40 years – with this kind of regret. With this kind of shameless waste and fear. I am so scared. Scared of what might happen, but far more scared of what might not.

I’m sorry y’all. Bear with me. And forgive me if I make seemingly foolish decisions based on fear. I know that no one can or will take care of me, and I hope y’all know that I will never do anything to purposely scare or hurt my friends. I’m not trying to scare y’all, either, but maybe I’m saying “don’t be surprised or disappointed with me if I finally get the nerve to get rid of all my shit and hit the road with luna and my camera and 200$.”

All my love – and bravery and trust (it was hard to write this)
-sam


*she said “Just pretend you’re on the beach, with a guy, like, mayyyyybe, that guy you’re with…” aaah! Ken’s a pimp!

Ok, peeps. Here’s the dealie-o! if you would like to see pics of BRIAN AND ANDI’S BRAND SHINY NEW BABY GIRL (!!!) – Miss Aeryn McKinney Allen (!!!) – here’s what you can do:
Go to yahoo groups (http://groups.yahoo.com/), go to the spot where it says “join a group” and enter “amusesam” (no quotations) and then, sign in please, and join me.
when you get in, go to photos and look for "aeryn pics". please feel free to browse the other albums, too.
-I must ask a favor, though – NO FAIRE BUSINESS (or other business at all) POSTED HERE. This is my personal page, for my dayoff stuff, and I’d like to keep it like that. This is my private little whee, fun geek spot, and I want it to remain unsullied and protected for lovely things like art goofiness and BABY PICTURES!

Much love,
Beaming Ridiculously Proud Aunt Sambro

i could talk about some yukky stuff, and catch y'all up on what's going on with me, but i'd rather not. today i have GOOD NEWS!!!
yesterday was the equinox, as i'm sure most of y'all know. i spent a good deal of time outside last night, lighting my candles, sending up my prayers, looking at the sky. i thought about a lot of stuff, mostly good, some skewwy, but it all ended with "no matter what happens to me, there's now a new person in the world, who, in my opinion, has what it takes to pick up my slack!"
Aeryn McKinney Allen was born yesterday a little after 3:30. Buffy called me to give me the news as I was standing at my altar in the kitchen lighting the candles for outside!) She is 5 pounds, 4 ounces, 18 and a little inches long, and sweet as pie. Andi told Buffy that she looked like she was gonna have her mama's beautiful, beautiful brown eyes! (YAY!)
Andi had called yesterday a.m. before I went into work, to let me know that she was going in to the doctor, that this baby might be ready to come (they'd said they might induce on thurs.) and i said "Well, it IS the equinox!" she said "Is it?"
yup! She went in for her appointment, and while she was filling out her paperstuff, her water broke! Aeryn said "MAMA, IT'S TIME!"
I will go see them tonight, as soon as i get offa work, and Brian said there's already pics to share!
Happy equinox, all! Happy birthday, Baby! Congratulations, BrAndi! YAY, US!
xoxoxo
-sambolina