Silent Sunday- A Murder of Crows

Mmmmmmhhhhhmmmm

Facebook is the strangest thing to me. First, I am amazed by the number of people who use it. People seem to practically live on the site because no matter what time of the day or night I log in the green button is by their name, should I wish to chat. I wonder if they have lives away from their phone or computer.

Second, I am awed by the people who use it for all the varied reasons- to get ideas out, to share photos, to connect with friends and family, and to promote business. For the life of me, I can't figure out why it is so popular because as I said before, it doesn't seem to be very user friendly and most of what people get hyped up about is very meaningless.

The third thing that bothers me is the number of people I barely know who want to be 'friends'. A woman I don't think I've spoken to since fourth grade sent me a friend request. I cannot figure out why. Sometimes I understand the reasoning behind requests- my cousins instantly accept and they should because we're family. A man I don't know very well friended me and I understand that because he used to have a crush on me. But the others? Is it just because we went to the same school? Are people remembering better times than me, maybe remembering what they wish had happened instead of what actually occurred?

For the most part, I've been accepting requests. I don't have to talk to anybody, in most cases it won't hurt, and if they get out of line, there's always the unfriend button.

Then Mandy sent me a friend request. We used to be friends. We were very close. The problem was, she's a liar.

I think the problem arose from a couple of things. First, she was an Army brat, forever moving to a new place. Maybe she started telling lies to sound cooler than she was. Her new friends wouldn't know what her life had been like and if she said she had a boyfriend then nobody would know she'd never been on a date in her life. Then her parents divorced so maybe she lied about the parts that weren't too great. You really wouldn't know she was lying unless you had been there with her.

She lied about all kinds of things. I guess most of it was for attention. One day she called me and was unusually quiet. I kept asking what was wrong and finally she said her brother's friend sexually assaulted her. She told me a little about it, then her mother came home and she shut up. I begged her to tell her mom. The next day, Mandy had a grand story about her mother taking her to the police station, they asked all sorts of questions, and she had to be photographed for 'evidence' but the photographer was out of town so she was supposed to wait until the next day and she couldn't shower or wear clothes to bed or sleep on sheets because fingerprints might rub off.

All that is a lie. That's not how rapes are handled. Nobody is photographed unless they have been badly beaten or stabbed and then the hospital would do it for medical records. The police department has several photographers and they would photograph the crime scene, not the victim unless the victim was dead. They don't send people home until they've been thoroughly questioned. And her mother never said one word about any of it so I just can't believe she continued to go to work every day leaving her teen aged daughter home alone and she never changed the locks, arranged for Mandy to stay with a friend, or took her to counseling.

Mandy lied about everything. Eventually I stopped talking to her because I caught her in lie after lie after lie. Most of them were things that were not worth lying about. I just didn't want to associate with her anymore because I didn't want to hear another stupid lie.

On a few occasions since high school, I've bumped into Mandy. She seems friendly at first. She still wants to be friends. She'll start catching me up on her life and it won't be long, between a few hours and two days, I'll trip over one of her lies. Sometimes she tells me something that directly contradicts what she said before, and sometimes I'll mention to another person that I ran into her and that person will ask where I got my misinformation from. This always happens. Then I can't speak to her again, and I can't believe I fell for yet another lie. Sometimes I will think everything is fine and then Mandy will abruptly stop calling. Gradually I realize she has lied about something and she thinks I'm about to catch her or she's staying away before I blurb out truth/lie to the wrong people. And then I wonder, if she lies this much about herself, what does she say about every one else?

Scent

It is Day 1 of my vacation. I slept. I stayed up late reading, and that may be why I was so groggy this morning, but I had a low sugar too. And it's a rainy day which always makes me sleepy. Anyway, vacation is for rest.

My plan for today is Hobby Lobby. My yarn is out of control. I've tried several times to organize it and all my attempts have failed. Nothing works. A few years ago, I started making storage boxes out of plastic canvas as a way to organize my fabric stash. I decided what works for fabric will work for yarn. I really wanted each skein of yarn to be in its own little cubby but the skeins aren't all the same size. Which means the cubbies must be different sizes. Which means they don't really stack together. I saw a wine rack being used for yarn storage. It was beautiful, tall, iron, little bit of rust, filled with a rainbow of fiber...ah, it was textile porn. That's what I really want, but where the hell would I put it? And would my jumbo sized yarn skeins fit into a narrow space meant for a wine bottle? A big box will just have to do until I can afford a grand old house with 12 foot ceilings.

After I settled on Hobby Lobby, I showered. As I got dressed, I wasn't focusing on anything in particular. I wasn't really thinking about anything. I was standing in my bedroom and I breathed in a very familiar scent. Granny's kitchen I thought. Then I wondered why I could smell baking ingredients in my bedroom. Then I wondered why I could smell a place that doesn't exactly exist anymore. Sure, the house still stands. Yeah, I've been in that house a few times since my grandmother died. But it's not the same because my aunt does the cooking now and about 15 years ago she remodeled the whole house. So why am I suddenly smelling all purpose flour, bacon grease, and the faint tinge of ugly, gray Phenix City dirt?

What's really weird to me is that I didn't smell my grandmother's personal scent, I smelled a scent I strongly associate with her. I could smell her KITCHEN. What's even stranger is I haven't cooked since last weekend, I don't remember the last time I baked, and I don't cook like her or even buy most of the stuff she used. And I wasn't anywhere near my stove.

I'm not sure what she was trying tell me, if anything, or what cooking has to do with my messy sewing room. I don't know if she was actually here or if it was a random memory that popped up. But I do know I want to get to Hobby Lobby before it starts raining again.

Better and Better and the Best is Yet to Come

I went into work mad. Last night when I came home I was depressed because I felt like that man who had been paying attention to me had suddenly made a fool of me. And I went to work determined to ignore him so hard he would doubt his own existence.

But...somewhere it just became silly. I started off ignoring the hell out of him. He waved ridiculously. He said hello. I sailed on by. Then when I came back, his buddy was there and he spoke to me, so of course I had to say 'hi' to David. I had a point to prove.

Then I started to feel a bit bad. He walked by, looking depressed. He glanced up and I think my hand waved of its own accord. He visibly brightened. I thought about it, then realized I couldn't ignore him too much or he wouldn't look at me when I return to work on the 8th. And I need him to look. I need him to look and sigh and look some more. Isn't it more fun to be untouchable when actually in reach? Yes, of course, of course, of course it is! So when I come back I'm going to be the epitome of sexy. I'm going to talk and laugh with my friends, pretend like I just happened to glance his way, and then I'm going to stand there all glorious, daring him to come talk to me. I have already picked out my outfit, the jeans he loves, the tight shirt, the bracelet, the boots! Every time I think of that future moment, I smile big.

Just try to come get me, Big Boy.

One Week

I now have a new goal with my abs. The man who was paying attention to me has pissed me off. He decided to let me simmer on the back burner while he tried to figure out his life. I go at every thing full throttle and I don't simmer quietly. Fucker. The plant is shutting down for the week of July Fourth. Tonight is my last night to work. I am off tomorrow because the plant will be doing inventory. I go back on the 8th. That gives me 10 days to tone up. When he sees me, I want him to think Damn. I made the wrong decision.

So last week, I looked like this:

And this week:

There's not much of a difference, but I feel better. I think things have tightened up a bit. I tried to put on the same clothes. I forgot I was wearing cut off shorts. I thought I had on pajama pants in the first picture. And hey look, I made the bed.
Last week my waist measured just under 31 inches.

And this week-

I'm slightly under 30 inches. If you're wondering about those red bumps, it's injection site marks. I hate them. Sometimes I get bruises. Insulin has to be injected into fat. I either inject into the backs of my arms or my stomach because those places are the easiest to get to. When the nurse tells you insulin can be injected into the top of the thighs, she is utterly forgetting that most people wear pants. This is after she tells you not to jab your thigh through jeans because the needle might bend or break off. I really hate taking shots in the winter time because all my sites are covered and it just draws more attention to myself trying to reveal bare skin so that, like a freak, I can poke myself with a hypodermic needle.

I decided I hate the exercise video. I've done it twice. The first time I ached miserably and the second time I got up really early to exercise. I skipped over to the last segment because that didn't require anything but me. The first segment requires a chair and the second one needs a towel. I didn't think about grabbing stuff until after I had the dvd going. I intended to go the last segment, then later in the day do the whole video. I was so clumsy I got disgusted and turned it off. I am not coordinated when I first get out of bed.

What I have found to be the most effective exercise is starting in a plank, then bringing my knee towards the opposite shoulder (left knee pulled towards right shoulder, then right knee to left shoulder). This doesn't sound like much, but it is really hard for me to do. I am trembling after ten. I feel that one way down deep and I am relieved when I stop. I'm trying to do that one the most. I exercise every day. Most days I do it three or four times. In all, my whole routine takes between 10 and 15 minutes. I vary the types exercises each time. Sometimes I do them all, and some times I just do planks, then side crunches. After a set, I lay still and breathe. While I'm being still, I remind myself of why I am doing it. Then I think about that man getting me hot and bothered just to tell me he wasn't ready to commit and I say, I am soooo gonna make you regret that, and I do at least two more sets.

Early Week Updates

I am still working my abs. I don't really like doing the video, but I do exercise every day, at least twice a day, often three or four times a day. I've noticed I stand up straighter, I feel lighter, and I have more energy in general. I am less hungry. I measured my waist this morning. It was just under 31 inches. I don't want to get too hopeful, but I feel like I'm doing good. My plan is simple- repeat any exercise that hurts or is hard to do until it either doesn't hurt or becomes easy. I often have a dull ache in my stomach, not a bad pain, just a little sore like some deeply buried muscles were forced into action. I think this is a good thing.

For the full moon I sat on my front steps drinking and smoking. That was it. I thought about a lot of things but I decided to take no action because I always rush head long into situations instead of waiting to see what develops. Being that I am impatient, waiting is tough for me. But I'm trying.

As far as male attention goes, I decided he really needs to figure out what he wants. He hasn't said anything of that nature to me, so I am taking that to mean he isn't serious about me. Rather than throw myself at him and over-analyze every word he says, I am going to back off. If he wants my attention he knows how to find me.

Now deciding to back off is a little depressing because it puts me squarely at being patient and doing nothing. I don't like to do nothing, I like to shape events to suit me. Theoretically, by backing off I have cleared the path for a serious mate to find me, but I have to wait for him to show up. How ever long that may be. I don't like waiting, remember? I decided to take action (d'oh!) and cast a spell. I wanted to make a Celtic knot bracelet with two strands woven together, one to symbolize me and one to symbolize my future mate. Nothing has gone right. About an hour ago, I finally realized it's not working because I haven't been still long enough. I tossed it. I also realized the problem with Stitch Witch magick- the most successful spell would use a project the Witch was already familiar with. Something simple and easy because trying to weave a knot I've never attempted is difficult. When things are difficult, magick doesn't flow. Magick follows the path of least resistance. Always. If I'm going to cast that spell, I either need to use a knot I've made in the past and am very familiar with, or I need to make the new knot so many times I could do it in my sleep. Then I can cast spells with it.

Until then, I have to be still. And wait.

If He's Well Qualified...

This is the limb that crashed down during the storm that scared my dogs. I started cutting it up yesterday- with a hand saw. Because I'm not a guy and I have a limited amount of tools and just about all of the tools I owned were purchased when I absolutely needed them. My saw is dull now. I just gave up. I have no way to sharpen it.

Besides being a lumberjack, I've also been the yard man. I cut grass and sweated like a nasty hog. I tried to finish the yard today but the string on the starter frayed in two. Then I tried to be a mechanic, but I was lacking the right tools. I don't even know what tool I would need to get the cover off. I thought I needed Allen wrenches, but no, Allen wrenches are hexagon shaped and whatever fits in this particular screw head is perfectly round. I don't even know the name of that kind of screw or bolt or whatever it is. All I know is I can't replace the pull string until I get the cover off. I'm pretty sure there's a guy reading this right now thinking, you dummy. Dude, I just don't know. Tell me the names of this stuff so I can proceed.

I've cut grass, tried to make repairs beyond my intelligence, went grocery shopping, finished a sewing project, determinedly sawed wood, tried to burn wood but it was too green, and somewhere in this weekend I'm supposed to go be a Witch under the full moon. I've decided being a single woman is too hard and I am now taking applications for the position of boyfriend. Please apply in person, preferably ready to work as I will need proof of skills.

Sleep to Perchance to Sleep Some More

Every weekend I make plans. Not major going-somewhere plans. Not do-an-awesome-project plans. Not family time plans. I just plan things like groceries, cooking, mow the yard (snort), sew, garden, maybe paint my toes stuff.

I end up with lots of plans. But that's about all I get. Because sadly the weekend is a mere 48 hours long with a good bit of hours chopped off both ends if you have a job. And because no matter how badly I may want to do stuff, I am forced to work for a living so that means a good many hours are devoted to preparing for the next week like laundry, making lunches, scheduling appointments, and ensuring I have enough gas to drive to work.

A lot of times I am staring straight between two choices- enjoy myself or be a responsible adult. It's a sad position. Often I feel resentment.

But what usually happens on the weekend is my body makes up its own mind. I planned to get up really early (dumb idea considering I work 2nd shift and didn't go to bed until 2am) so I could cut grass. Last weekend I cut the backyard. Then it was getting dark, I'd done drank two beers, I was a sweaty mess, and well, I was tired. I never got around to finishing the yard. It rained three times. The front yard is a jungle and the backyard is about where it was before I cut it.

During one of the rain storms, a huge maple limb crashed into the back yard, scaring my dogs. They have been edging warily around the limb each time I take them to the pen, and the first three times I took them out, I had to shove Sophie through the gate. I've got logging to do. I'm not a lumber jack; I only have a hand saw and pruning shears. This is going to be a time consuming job and I get the feeling I won't finish it. Then too, the garden never goes the way I plan. Plants spill over their containers, creep around borders, sprout in unexpected places, smother their neighbors, flowers quickly go to seed, herbs scream to be cut, and weeds never cease to be pulled. Gardening is a full time job and I already have one of those. Oh yeah, and the grass still needs to be cut.

I had this plan for today- I would spend all day in the yard. It was perfect really, I'd cut grass, burn wood, pull some weeds, set out plants and just do summer activities since I didn't have time to celebrate the Solstice on the 21st. Full moon, too. How Witchy is that? Great idea...but I slept.

Not very well, because I worried about a few things, the phone kept buzzing at me, and there's been an insane amount of traffic today, plus I always get up at six to take the dogs out. Kurt used to handle that for me before he went to work. It's just me now. I have to make a choice between leaving my dogs in the pen all night, which isn't fair to them, or, if I don't get up early, they have to hold their bladders for hours and that's not fair to them either. Sometimes they can't hold it and I have to clean the floor which is gross. I just get up at 6am even though it means I had a four hour nap instead of real sleep. Less guilt that way.

I really intended to get up around 8 and get started on my poor neglected yard. Honest. But, there's one thing I forget every weekend. I'm tired. I'm a middle aged diabetic and I no longer have the energy of a 19 year-old. I get weary and worn down faster than normal people. My brain said Get up, do stuff. But my much wiser body said Rest before you kill us all. Now I have so much to do it's overwhelming. Instead of doing any of it, I'm sitting here in front of the computer.

Makes perfect sense.

I'm Gonna Get My Abs

I've been feeling energized all day. I'm not sure if having a goal has me geared up or if the stars have aligned perfectly. Whatever it is, if some fat bitches are gonna hate me, I'm gonna give them a little waist to hate.

Routine 1 for me is a Crunchless Abs video. It's sort of like the 'Buns of Steel' or '10 Minute Whatevers' you see on t.v. It's not exactly crunchless; more of a slow crunch. There is no way to work your abs without crunching them. I'm sorry, but there's just not. Fortunately, there's all kinds of different crunches and at least one will work for you. Remember, even if it's not called a crunch, an effective ab exercise will tightly constrict stomach muscles. Not all of them involve laying on your back; some can be done standing or sitting. But if it doesn't make your stomach muscles ache, don't bother.

So every other day I'll do the video. If I get bored, I also have a belly dancing video. I consider belly dancing less strenuous, but it does teach one in move in alluring ways and if seduction is your goal then by all means, learn to shimmy. I've noticed men really, really, really love dancing women. When I was taking Spanish in college, the teacher taught all the girls in the class a Spanish dance. The boys sat around the edge of the classroom and stared, mesmerized. I do mean their mouths were hanging open and it was obvious not a coherent thought passed thought passed through their heads. It was not planned, we weren't in costume, and we certainly weren't very good at it, but there's just something about swaying hips that make men stupid.

For other days, I'll be doing a series of exercises, mostly crunches, some Pilates, and maybe a little Yoga. My focus will be on my waist, but I'll throw other exercises into the mix if I feel another part of my body needs work, say squats (bleh, cellulite) or lifting weights to tone my arms. Here's a link to what I'm doing: http://thehautebunny.wordpress.com/2012/05/01/itty-bitty-tummy-workout/

There are all kinds of exercises all over the Internet. You will find a routine that suits your needs if you look. I found one 'crunchless' ab work out today that involved having your hips highly elevated with your legs against a wall. I'm sure that would burn my ass up, but as I was in a car accident and my spine is crooked, I'm not doing anything that puts all my body weight on my shoulders. It's okay, there's other effective exercises out there. And not everybody describes things to your understanding, so if it doesn't make sense, Google it. Maybe you just needed better pictures or a video.

Probably the thing I cannot stress enough is be active. So what if the recommended number of reps is 20 and you can only do 12? Start with what you can do. When that becomes easy, do more. Then do a little more. Then try a more challenging exercise. Eventually, you'll start to see results.

How long do results take? Well, that depends on how hard you work out, but generally it takes four weeks for you to see a difference, 8 weeks for your family to notice, and 12 weeks before friends and co-workers to notice. You feel it first, your sexual partner comments on the change, your family asks if you're working out, then people at work complement you. The further removed the person, the longer it takes them to notice so keep that in mind if a hot guy isn't aware of your existence. Just keep plugging away because time is going to pass whether you reach your goal or not. Don't let long term commitment deter you.

After you start exercising, you should start to have more energy, be able to sleep better, think clearer, have more confidence, become stronger, be happier, and attain more of your goals even if those goals aren't physical. Being fit has a ripple effect throughout all areas of your life. I'm ready to start.

It's Day 1 and my waist is just over 31 inches.

Want My Abs Back

First, I hate taking pictures of myself. I usually take ten or twelve, finding something wrong with all of them and post nothing. After taking this, I realized I should have made the bed, not cocked my hip, not worn a tank top, etc., etc., etc. That is one thing I miss about Kurt not being here- he took pictures all the time and most of them were good, even some of me.

But my purpose in taking the picture is to show you how I look now. I used to have beautiful abs and I want them back. I'm not in bad shape, especially considering I'm a 36 year-old diabetic, but I know I could look better. Besides, there is something extremely satisfying in being very fit when you tell a medical professional you have diabetes. They simply don't believe it. I feel very smug knowing I don't look like I have an incurable illness. Call me vain, but it's all I got.

The problem with having sexy abs is that it takes a lot, I do mean a whole fucking lot, of work. The older I get, the more work it takes. The first time I got abs I was 24. I did Pilates and in less than a month I was stunning. 

The second problem with abs is that you can lose 'em quick. Skip two days of exercise, pig out once, and hey, wait just a damn minute, where'd this flab come from? You'll still have a nice body, but if you achieve perfection you cannot keep it for very long.

My goal is to have a well defined waist. I'm not looking to lose weight. I don't care what size I am. I'm not trying to squeeze into tiny jeans. I want defined muscles on my stomach so I can wear short tops in public and not worry about looking ridiculous. Because let's face it, at some point you are too old to show your belly. I'd like to rock a couple more years before I have to act my age. After I have to grow up, I'll have to settle for surprising men who seduce me. I'd like to be a lovely present that's better than expected when unwrapped.

I've been doing some kind of ab exercise for years. I often skip days because I usually wake up with a low sugar. I like to exercise as soon as I wake up (before my brain catches on to what I'm doing and refuses to sweat) and it is much better to work out your abs when your stomach is empty. Remember, whatever is in your stomach is going to get crunched during crunches. Food will move through your system, either you'll vomit or you'll look for a toilet so please, don't make yourself miserable. Empty stomach, people.

You may find you can't eat as much on an ab exercise routine and for most people that's probably a good thing. I'm not dieting per se as I'm already on a low carb diet for the rest of my damn life. If you want my advice for a diet along with ab exercise, I say lots of fresh fruit and veggies, lean meats, and small portions. Stay away from greasy fast food. Your stomach is going to be sore anyway (if it doesn't hurt you didn't do enough crunches) and you don't want to eat anything that will upset it. When I first started doing Pilates, I ate very little at a time, but I did eat more often throughout the day.

The other reason I haven't stuck with exercise (besides the fact that I hate it) is I feel really self-conscious when being watched. I didn't want to exercise around Kurt because either he asked if that was all I was going to do (asshole), or he interrupted me for sex. You can burn lots of calories during sex, but it doesn't work the core. Since I now live alone, I should be able to work out without criticism.

I'm doing two things different. First, variety is key. Your muscles get used to the same routine and after a while it isn't effective. I'm going to have two routines alternating them each day. The second thing is I will be working out at least twice a day. Many people disagree with this, they say your muscles need time to rest. I say the more exercise you get the better and when I was actually trying to lose weight, working out twice a day was the thing that finally made the pounds fall off. My second routine will be lighter, maybe less reps or I might skip part of it. My plan is to exercise when I get up, and again before bed.

Probably tomorrow I'll post pictures of what exercises I'm doing. I may post pictures of my waist each week so you can see how I'm doing. I'm hoping by sharing my plan with the Internet I'll feel obligated to keep doing it. Wish me luck.

Again? Really? How Sad Your Little Life Must Be

A while back (don't ask me to find the post, just take my word for it), I wrote about some jealous people at my work. Namely, I was getting male attention and they were not. Well, they're still not getting any attention, being that, you know, they still don't shower before work, they're still rude as hell, they're still fat, and they're still negative, toxic people. I still get lots of attention and evidently I got too much because these two told a lie- I wasn't working because I was too busy talking.

Nothing was said to me. But the man who talks to me got in trouble and what galls me is that he has never once interrupted my job for anything. We talk during breaks and at the end of the shift. We wave to each other. That's about it. His supervisor didn't bother to find out if what was said was true; he just doled out punishment. How scary is that? Someone who doesn't know you, doesn't associate with you, doesn't have anything to gain by one upping you, can put your income in jeopardy with one lie.

If just one person had complained, the complaint probably would have been ignored. But TWO people complained (and let's just overlook the fact that the two are joined at the hip) so obviously it must be true. And never mind these two have done this before. Surely they aren't lying this time.

Do you know why hexes exist? Because there are people in the world who make them necessary.

Anybody Know About This?

 

As part of my life-without-Kurt routine, I just finished re-arranging my bedroom. I like it. Now I will be sleeping with my head in the east which usually means good dreams. It's tricky moving my bedroom furniture around because 1.) I've got an awkward shaped room, and 2.) I've got antiques which don't go just any old way. As you can see in the picture, my headboard is taller than I am (the bed is really high) so there are only two walls the bed can go against without blocking windows. And actually it is partially blocking a window here but it's not completely blocking it and I could have slid the bed down a bit but I wanted plenty of space in front of the dresser to open drawers. The dresser is also a bit of a window blocker given the huge mirror. There is my problem- the dresser mirror now reflects the bed.

 

I am very careful with mirrors in my home. Mirrors can be used for all sorts of magick. I ritually sealed every mirror I own whether I intended to use it as a magickal tool or not. I don't let mirrors reflect other mirrors. I have always heard a mirror should never face a bed because a married couple will be disturbed by a symbolic third party in the bedroom. Single people can be startled if they awaken in the night and see their own reflection as they may not be aware they are seeing themselves. They may think a stranger is in the house.

 

When I was dating M, he had a mirrored headboard. We had lots and lots of sex on his bed and never once thought anything about it. Then he moved his dresser and because the mirror was not attached well, the screws pulled loose. Rather than reattaching the mirror, M propped it against the wall- by his bed. One night we were making love and I saw our reflection. For a moment I didn't recognize us. We were erotic and beautiful. I finally understood why cheap hotels put mirrors on the ceiling. We were so beautiful and I could not stop staring. M noticed I was distracted and when he looked into the mirror he was as enthralled as me. We left the mirror right where it was for months.

 

Of course, back then I was 20. Now if I look into a mirror while having sex I am prone to see cellulite. I doubt my 36 year-old body is as erotic as my 20 year-old body used to be. And, being that I like my men older than me, I probably won't be looking at sexy, young, tanned, strong shoulders and biceps.



But, I don't have a man right now. So the only problem would be me seeing myself when I am half asleep. I was laying on the bed earlier, and all I could see was my bent knee. There may not be a problem at all until I actually get a man (whenever that will be) and then I'll probably just see him (not young) unless I'm on top (bleh, cellulite). Unless my future mate is a kinky freak. Then I may see far too much. Or, I don't know, given candle light and strong desire, we might look like porn stars.

So what do you say? Is the mirror a problem or not? I really want to know if anyone set up a mirror for erotic purposes and then their relationship failed. Or did you fall more deeply in love because you saw a beautiful human being? Sacred shitless because you saw a person sitting up in your bed? Any supernatural occurrences? Nothing to it, just enjoy the view? Or was it a bad angle of an ugly butt? I'm dying of curiosity here. Men and women, I want to hear your story, good or bad.

The Touching Sadness

Today has been a sad day. Not that anything horrible has happened. Maybe my emotions are hyper-charged. Perhaps the moon holds too much sway over me. Everything I have encountered today seems profoundly, deeply, maddeningly sad.

My day started with a low sugar and that is probably the key to this mess, but anyway, let's move on. I've been giving thought to my relationship status on Facebook. I left it blank at first because I just ended a relationship and I'm not looking to start another any time soon. I Am Tired. I mean really, how many times do I have to start over? I don't really want to start again unless I'm sure it will work out and how does anyone know that at the beginning? If you knew, you wouldn't go through all the junk, but then you wouldn't be formed into a strong, wise soul.

I was thinking my status should be something off the wall like 'charmed by a Southern gent' or 'enchanted' or maybe even 'spellbound.' Then I wondered if I could even put something like that down or am I stuck with the boring, mundane 'single', 'married', or 'it's complicated'? And if I can say I am charmed, is the charmer in question going to see it? What would he think? I tried to picture how that would go and I realized probably nothing good would come of it and that made me weep.

I decided not to change my status.

The blogging world is filled with sad things today. The Deepest Well has a beautiful, touching, but (sigh) sad post about love notes and tears welled up as I read it. Hecatedemeter has written Chapter 20 of A Place Without a Witch and following the links, I was surprised to discover that Alabama Power buys coal from the company destroying mountains. I didn't think anything would come up when I entered my zip code but no, my power company was at the top of the list even though I am hundreds of miles away of the wasteland. I like surfing the 'Net, but I would gladly give it up if it meant mountains and the life they support could be free. I was going to say people, but the coal mining company is steadily destroying the plants, the animals, AND the people. The site made me want to kill my main power switch and be a hermit. I won't lie, I started to cry. I even cried a bit when I read Silver's blog post about finding family by, literally, accident. All I could think about was the shock and confusion everyone must have felt. It made me think of my own family and maybe it would be better if I just got off the Internet for the rest of the weekend.

Found My Time!

Yesterday I did laundry for the first time since Kurt left. I was very sure I had a mountain because when he lived here I did laundry damn near every day. I barely had half a load. I was like, what? what? did I forget a basket? The white clothes made an even smaller load.

I haven't cleaned much either. Because I don't have to. I clean up and, OMG, it stays clean. No more picking up items constantly. No more dirt on the coffee table. No mysterious sticky spots on the counter.

I am cooking every day, but I don't mind because it doesn't seem like much, and because I'm the only one eating, I have leftovers. I can go all day without washing dishes and when I finally get to it, I barely have half a sink.

I don't run back and forth to the store. I don't find things in odd places. When I sit down to sew, I make great progress. I started reading again. I am spending more time on Pinterest, but that's probably because now I can explore farther.

The dogs are happier because they have more run of the house. Kurt kept them in the pen or confined to the kitchen. I felt like I never got to spend any time with them. They also seem less excitable and they seem to mind better. I think when dogs have limited time with humans they become hyper. They need us just like we need them. They need to be petted and we need to pet them. I think any future mate needs to love my dogs as much as I do before he moves in. We will all be happier that way.

Plunge

I started my own Facebook account this weekend. Let me start by saying I hate Facebook. And as I tried to set things up, I hated it even more because it doesn't seem to be user friendly. And OMG, sloooow. So, so, so freakin' slow. I thought there was something wrong with my computer at first, but no, Facebook just isn't in any hurry to load anything.

The reason why I did it is because most of my family has Facebook and they all wanted me on it. Kurt already had a page, so I used his. I never got on Facebook unless he told me I had a message. I really didn't get why it was a big deal. Mostly Facebook looked trivial to me.

Now that Kurt has moved out, I had no way to stay in contact with my family. Grudgingly, I decided it must be done. I need Facebook. It's like a phone- I don't like phones either, but it is a necessary evil in the modern world.

I barely got started when people I haven't thought of in 20 years started appearing on my screen. Finally I got it- Facebook is only good if it relates to you. Sharing another person's account is not the same.

I found my gay cousin. I can hear in my head his high-pitched voice bordering on nervous break-down as I read his posts. He hasn't changed a bit. My friend from my high school drama club got a little heavier, but otherwise is the same. My ex has a daughter. The dorky guy grew a beard and now looks cool.

I do have a new pet peeve- people who use their children's pictures as profile pictures. I have no damn idea who these kids are. I've been going over and over pictures in a Jason's album and I can't tell if it's the same Jason I know or not because there is nothing but that five year old kid.

I started searching for all my relatives Kurt was friends with. I can't find my uncle. I searched for him, then went on Kurt's friend's list, and Uncle Joe is not there or anywhere. I don't know if he cancelled or what. I don't know if he made some big announcement before bowing out. Why didn't Kurt tell me? What else do I not know? I haven't gotten an email from Joe in quite some time and I don't remember the last time Dad said my aunt called, so now I am starting to worry. It's probably nothing, but it makes me wonder.

I decided to keep my beliefs off Facebook. No Witchy stuff. I can get my Witch fix on Pinterest. I probably won't post anything deeply personal. I want people I know to be able to find me, but not be in my business. I think most Facebook users have that backwards. Which leads me to this: if you already know my real name, feel free to friend me. If you don't, we're not friends.

The Baby in the Bar Story, Or Why My Cousin Shouldn't Have Married

I used to spend a lot of time with my cousin Dean. My grandmother was her aunt, but they were roughly the same age. Dean used to tell me all kinds of things, grown up things, interesting history, and family secrets. I was 15 the first time I went to stay with her for a long summer weekend, and that whole time she talked to me like I was an adult. Because when Dean was 15, she was grown. Mama Kate married at 15 and had my father at 16. There was no question of maturity, she just talked to me like I was her peer and I loved her for it.

Dean told me about my grandparents' marriage. She told me about her failed marriages, being a single mother, working in the mill, and all the boyfriends she'd had. Even today, even though she died in 1996, the old folks still talk about how beautiful Dean was. She was very savvy. She struggled with the household budget. Rather than worry about how to pay the bills, she handed everything over to her pre-teen son. She said she gave him her pay check and let him figure out what bills to pay. Whatever was left he gave back to her. Sometimes he only gave her two dollars and that was all she had for the week. But the bills got paid and Dale learned to manage money. He has always been very financially secure, even in the worst economies.

When I was 17, I spent a week with Dean. We sat up late every night talking. We talked about everything- food, television, good men, Singer sewing machines, church, schools, stupid men, the 'good ol' days', and somewhere between playing cards and the pain of arthritis, Dean began telling me family secrets. And here is where I come to the difficult part of my story. I may have information that my cousin wants. But, and this terrifies me, I know things I'd rather not repeat. I know how to drive my cousin Kathy into years of therapy. I know how to make my father weep. I know how to make John Allen hot under the collar real quick. Even the gentle and kind Ann may stop speaking to me if she knew what all I'm sitting on. And I am reluctant to reveal my information because I don't want anyone, not nobody, to ask what else Dean told me. And if all that isn't enough, I may be remembering some of it wrong so some things may not be as bad as I think. Or they could be worse.

I'm safe as long as I keep my mouth shut. I've been doing that pretty well. My father started telling me the baby in the bar story and was very surprised when I interrupted him to say I already knew. I'm hoping the shock of me knowing was enough to keep his mind from turning to other dim corners. Here it goes, and I'd like to know what some of you do if you were in my place.

My cousin Eddie married a woman named Barbra. She is adopted. About four years ago, Eddie started going to the library with my father because Dad is a genealogist. Eddie became interested in the family tree. Dad is a very methodical researcher. He finds even the smallest bit of information. As a bonus, because Dad and Eddie are cousins, Dad has lots of stories to tell. He was best friends with Eddie's uncle. Dad's real life colors in what would be just boring dates. It didn't take long for Eddie to find the information he was looking for. Encouraged, he asked Dad if he could find Barbra's birth parents. Well, Dad asked, what do you know?

Barbra's birth parents met the adoptive parents in a bar in Detroit. They gave their baby away. The adoptive parents will not say anything. The end.

Now here is where things get sticky. Dean told me Eddie and Barbra are cousins.

At 17, this was an interesting story, an unbelievable story, a soap opera in real life. From what Dean told me, it wasn't planned. The parties simply bumped into each other near a bar, went in, one couple complained about the difficulty of taking care of a child and the other couple wished they had a child, sooooo.....here you go, take her.

Barbra wasn't officially adopted. Her parents just raised her. We don't know if her name actually is Barbra or if that is what they decided to call her. We don't know if she celebrates her birthday or the day she was 'adopted.' We don't know if she was born in Detroit. We don't know how Dean would know this story. She was working in Detroit at the time, but was she in the bar or did she know the parents? Dad mentioned his cousin Doyle went to Detroit and married Patricia. But it didn't last so she moved back to Detroit. And after Dad mentioned Patricia, I remembered Dean mentioned the same name. But was she telling me her low opinion of Doyle's wife or is Patricia the relative of Barbra's birth mother? Are Eddie and Barbra related by marriage or blood?

Dad and I discussed all these questions at length. We did not reach any answers. We got more questions, like if Eddie and Barbra are kin, why didn't her adoptive parents tell her before she married? If Dean knew, how could they not? Is Dean wrong? How did she come upon this information and why didn't Dean speak up while Eddie and Barbra were dating?

I think if Dean told me, then surely she told her son Dale. This made sense to Dad. Why is all this coming up now? Because Barbra is in the hospital. She is in a coma from a brain aneurysm and isn't expected to recover. This raises more questions. If Barbra never gets to know, is it worth it to find out? I have never heard her voice any concerns. Eddie has always done the asking. Maybe he is the only one who wants to know.

I had a simple but brilliant plan. I intended to find both my cousins on Facebook and send messages. Eddie has probably never thought to ask Dale because Dale was born after Dean came back from Detroit. Dale probably thinks Eddie is embarrassed so he never mentioned it. The problem is neither has Facebook. Well, now I'm back to hoping Eddie calls my father, or Dad calls him. I'm feeling awkward about going to the hospital and dropping the bombshell that Dale probably knows the answer to the thing that has worried Eddie for years. Or else Dean didn't know what the fuck she was talking about and that's why no one mentions this ugly rumor. I never realized how being a friend and confidant could put me in such a predicament.

I Took the Opening He Gave Me

Kurt and I have hit the rocks. It's more a series of several small things (occurring over and over and over and over and you get the idea) than any one big thing. I got tired of explaining why things bother me, tired of him not getting it, tired of never being alone, and tired of how things are instead of how I thought they would be.

Last night when he was at work, I discovered he had sent me an email. He dreamed we broke up and he wanted me to reassure him. I couldn't lie- I told him truthfully I no longer feel the same. And just like that, he left. When he came home he packed up all his clothes, doing laundry first to make sure he got it all. Then he was gone to his mother's house. He put in for a job transfer before leaving the plant. He moved before he knew if he would get it. I don't know how he's going to handle an hour and a half drive but he may just quit. All I know is he is not here.

I am surprised by it. I really expected him to whine, cry, beg, rage, or create drama. But he left so quickly and so thoroughly that I feel he wanted out. Maybe I should have said how I really felt a long time ago.

I feel relief. I'm glad it's over. I'm glad it went so smooth. I'm glad I didn't have to rearrange my life. I'm glad I can be myself.

Every thing seems perfectly aligned today. There was a big storm last night and that must have been what all the plant life was waiting for because more sunflowers burst from their seeds, the sage finally came up, and the zinnias doubled in size. The humming birds zipped around and crows are all over the place. Every time I see one, I think Magic is afoot. I saw a rabbit boldly hopping across the parking lot of my work. Nature is reaching in all directions at once.

I've started back on my healing the past project. I am now working with my father's grandparents. I had always heard good things about them, but lately my father has revealed more and more secrets. There is healing to be done, no matter how much he loved them. I'm having an issue now with that part of my family. It's big, so I think I will talk about it in a later post. Right now I just want life to keep humming along. It suddenly dawned on me that the Solstice is very soon. That one thought made me a scrambling Witch. I have no idea how I will celebrate.

In case you're wondering- no, I'm not man hunting. I really want to be a better Witch. My focus and concern is on my landbase. How does the Wheel turn here? What cycles do I follow? How can I be more in harmony with my surroundings? The last is very important. Each time I go into the garden, I come back feel refreshed. Even if I am weary from pulling weeds, I feel healed. I really want the land to speak to me, for it to tell me what it needs.

As for as the immediate effect of Kurt leaving- the first thing I did was empty the trash. And I'm going to throw out more stuff, not because I'm angry or hurt, but because I want to clear the way for a new life. I'm going to flip my mattress before I go to bed. I'm going to clean the whole house from top to bottom (and I hope I'm done before the Solstice) so I can have a brand new, fresh life.

Goddess of the Moment Alone

I cleaned out the closet yesterday and filled two bags for Goodwill. I'd been cleaning all day, so because I was on a roll, I decided to immediately take the clothes to a donation drop box rather than let them linger in a corner. My dog Halona hopped in the truck. Which was cool, she's good company. I told Kurt I was leaving and he decided to go with me. 'Why do you have to go?' I snapped.

I hurt his feelings. But I am never alone. He's always here. He has no hobbies. He doesn't go anywhere. And evidently he doesn't have friends, or at least not good ones, because no one calls, comes over, or invites him out for a beer.

We sleep together. We shower together. We eat together. If I am alone sewing, he will come into the room and sit beside me, often just staring which makes me nuts. Then only time I'm really by myself is when I'm driving to work and then he calls me.

As an only child, I prefer solitude. I have always been alone. But I'm not lonely. I can find ways to keep my brain occupied. I like to read. I write. Sometimes I create art even though I suck at it. I really don't understand why someone fixates their existence on me. I don't understand why someone needs me to make themselves a whole person because I really thought each individual was already a person. He keeps saying I complete him and I don't see how because I don't do anything to improve his soul or to promote personal growth. And every time I tell him to go back in the house, to let me garden in peace, he panics. He doesn't understand me need to be alone no more than I understand him clinging.

Goddess help.