Immortals; Gods on Earth

Like witnessing the inexorable rise of the Sun, the unfolding petals of the first flower of Spring, or the jeweled strands of a web in morning dew, awe and amazement are too tame to describe my open-mouthed gaping wonder as I watch Armstrong pump almost lazily through mountains, torturous turns, and deathly descents.
 
Working to win his 6th consecutive Tour de France, Armstrong appears to possess super-human, -natural abilities. Although we must surely recognize that he is all too human vis a vis his marital diffculties that have been so widely publicized. Nevertheless, this transcendence of pain, of wordly limitation must surely be a gift of the gods, a sign of his chosen status.

Hmm... how the gifted suffer...

The "J" Report, Episode Tres

My Goodness! Look at him grow. "J" is now toddling about fairly well and the only sensations to report are his continued progress towards adulthood and our maturing bond. "J" seems to have a preference to be with me at all times. Put in his own space, he quickly works his way over to me or in my general vicinty. He is communicating more, becoming more verbal, and I have been told that he will eventually, if he stays, pick up some words. I expect he will be ready to make some big decisions in the coming 10 days. I will give him free reign to choose as he pleases and will be proud of wherever he chooses to reside.
 
His capacity for food is prodigious and we have gone through a 4oz jar of 'Vegetable Chicken Dinner' in a little under 48 hours. He is taking more interest in his surroundings and even beginning to show interest in feeding himself - this a new development for today. I am trying to encourage him by leaving foodstuffs where he can easily reach them. However, he still is unsure and asks for feeding regularly and often (even as I type this). Additionally, I can't say that I will be too sad when he moves on to feeding himself, although I feel sure that hand feeding will continue for several more days.
 
He is socializing well and accepts strangers with only minor trepidation. My Grandfather suggests that I mimic his parents behavior, yet I think he will instinctually learn to behave correctly. Of course, all of this is moot if he decides to stay.
 
"J" is now resting comfortably near me and he is, at least, a lovely companion who would never lie or hurt me intentionally. Now that's something!

The "Lying" Game

Dictionary.com partially defines "lie" as "an intentional violation of truth" and I suspect that if you were to ask me at this very moment my definition of "lie" it would include some vituperatives. However, not willing to risk injuring my karma, I refrain from aforementioned. Nevertheless, I wonder at this thing called "karma" and exactly when I reap the rewards of taking moral high ground on a regular basis? A recent rash of deceptions, injustices, and blatant ethical/moral disobedience leaves me desirous of leaping from my karmic wheel. Except for the occasion when my Mother so lovingly informed me that I couldn't help my emotions because I was "pre-menopausal," I have not been this upset in a while. (And these are really two different species of upset.) On the phone with a friend this morning, I spewed forth my rage, my willingness to abandon the "Duddley Do-Right Bandwagon" that I am on and open up a huge, Texas-sized can of "Whoop-Ass" and let it fountain unhindered over all who come into its path, regardless of innocence, deviousness or stupidity. Unfortunately, I am prevented from this vicious action by that same impluse that drives me to forgive. Drives me to love unconditionally, to say "Thank You," to nurture, to introspect and to strive for oneness.

I practice patience... OHM...

The "J" Report, Episode Two

Following the advice of my inner counselor, I cruised immediately to my nearest Alblurtson's and procured the finest infant foods made by man. A grand selection was presented and for "J"s nutrition I selected 'Chicken & Chicken Gravy,' 'Mixed Vegetables' and 'Apples & Blueberries.' I felt these puréed delicacies fit nicely with the information gleaned from the Internet regarding what "J"s diet should include.
 
Pulling 'G's as I drove home, I know I must have returned at least 10 seconds earlier than if I had obeyed all traffic signs. My Lord, this was an emergency of the grandest proportions. Had I been stopped by Mr. Law, I would have tearfully recounted the traumatic event and most probably would have been provided with a personal escort home, lights and sirens ablaze.
 
Shucking plastic bags and child proof lids as I sprinted into the house, I was suddenly flummoxed as to how I would dispense this thick goo. I'll try a spoon. Big end won't work. Ah...the spade-like narrow handle will do just the trick. By this time, "J" seemed fairly dehydrated, still breathing heavily and quite tucked up. He didn't even respond to my coo's, trills, or murmurs of encouragement. I waved the spoon handle loaded with smooth chicken paste enticingly in front of "J"s nose but he refused to acknowledge my efforts. OK, time for some tough dietary measures. I prised his wee mouth open and forced minute quantities of slime into his mouth. After a few seconds he dutifully swallowed but was not interested in more. I continued the food torture until I felt "J" had had enough to last him through the long night.
 
This morning I woke to old "J" again. Restored, although not completely, and ready for limited action, "J" was up with the rising sun and blessing me in his infantile way. Unlike other babies I have raised, "J", being a wild-child, has much different needs. I have to adjust all schedules and preconceived notions and learn as I go. It was evident that "J" was pretty darn ravenous this morn and my plan was to feed him up for another nocturnal fast, keep him safely confined and minimize all intrusions to restore his appetite and morale.
 
Plan B unfolded as follows:
 
Check on "J". If "J" asks for food, "J" gets all he can handle. Inspect "J"s poop (it's gotten much more average sized with an increasingly pleasing color and texture completely devoid of all odor).*
 
Spend the next 20- 30 minutes wisely (I learned this quite quickly, actually).
 
Check on "J". Yep, he's definitely ready for food again.
 
And so on throughout the day. "J" became positively Olympic as we ate. He gained strength from the nourishing pap and found the energy to inspect himself and make adjustments where necessary. He visited with friends and family, wary the whole while. He even sat with me for a space, a comfortable companionship marked by silent communion and gentle nuzzlings from "J"s little gourd.
 
I deem the plan and "J" a success today. Tonight is anticipated on pins and needles to see if he sleeps the sleep of the innocent. Tomorrow will bring new adventures for "J" and myself as we embark on more planning and scheduling.
 
Am being called by "J"...off to the feeding mill.
 
NOTE*: An amazing synchronicty is observed in regard to the food going into "J"s mouth and the subsequent, immediate evacuation of "J"s bowels. Extraordinary...I even know some people like this.
 

The "J" Report, Episode 1

"Would you like a new 'project?'" Mom queried craftily.

"What? I can't hear you!" I retorted knowing full well that I was just one very fine frog's hair from being suckered into another maternal scheme.

"Don't you want a new, little project (imagine big, wide Bambi eyes here)?" as she turned to me with her hand cupped concealingly about her waist.

"What is it?" I sighed.

And there he was, "J",...shocked, abandoned, staring wild-eyed. Yep, this little guy could have been no luckier than when he inadvertantly landed in our domain.

So, I carried my new charge home. We nestled him in, fed him up, stroked his shocky wee pate and pledged to do our best.

Morning found "J" plump, comfy and ready for some sustenance which I willingly and with some effort provided. "J" sat drooling parts of his breakfast onto me, making baby sounds of comfort and delight. As I watched him, those familiar maternal feelings washed through me and I felt truly content. He jumped and jived for a moment finding his feet and then gave a little waggle that made me snort, and then that waggle turned insistent, intense even, and out from "J"'s bottom came the biggest fecal extrusion I have seen come from such a small orifice in quite some time. " J," I exclaimed, "that was as big as your own head....YEOUCH!" Well, when you can watch an orphan perform a feat like that, you just have to love him.

I left "J" snuggled up, sated and rectally devoid knowing he would be safe at my house while I accomplished my tasks for the day. Several hours later I returned to find no "J" where he should be, where I left him. My heart skipped and dervished. Crap, where is "J"? I hope the dogs have acted with courtesy about "J" escaping. And so my search began for the missing "J". Directly, I found him scrunched up in the middle of the Pakistani rug in the living room, seemingly unharmed but fazed.

I returned him to his familiar surroundings and tried to get some food into him all the while reassuring him, but he was quite distraught. He refused my nourishing offerings and was laboring for breath. I became concerned. Before I went all panicky and frothy, I took some deep breaths and counseled my inner voice. In those few brief therapeutic moments, my internal guide answered and I knew it was the right thing.

To Be Continued...

More Unfinished

fire...the igniting passion
water...the supple nurturer
air...the sustaining breath
earth...the fecund mother

----------------------------------

desire pulls it's caressing syllables across
my skin, wanting some further
explanation or denoument. Help
me! Help me explore the dishes of
the new-found desire to write.

I was there. I was languishing in the moment.
YOU can't deny me that.

----------------------------------

Joy - painful, exquisite joy!
My life's ambrosia
Set to 4 patter.
Joy - precious, ethereal joy!

An In-Depth Questionnaire Assessing the Personality Characteristics of Either Gender**

1. What is your birthday?

2. How do you feel about tomatoes?

3. Morning person or night person or just person?

4. Country or City or Private Island?

5. How many of you are there?

6. Is there a god, with a big "G?"

7. How many centimeters in an pound?

8. Sweet or Sour?

9. Have you ever been in love?

10. When would you scr........


** This profile provided courtesy of Cranston Snord's little known treatise, "Fred's Complete Guide to Psychoanalysis." Apparently Herr Señor Snord, called "Windy" by his closest enemies, suffered from short term memory loss and while constructing this questionnaire, was suddenly struck by the need to can some berries. He then submitted his creation to a small, and now defunct, publishing company specializing in one-page scientific inquiries. Much to Cranston's surprise, his writings were published but only in Africa in the 'click' dialect. This recently discovered handbook is now being applied by the most sophisticated psychologists, psychiatrists, and Miss Cleo, as a valuable adjunct in their professions.

Additionally, an oft misquoted appendix which does not appear in Mrs. Snord's book is the Gorge of Eternal Peril's Bridge Keeper's three question riddle to questers. The original questions in the appendix have been lost to the scientific community due to Cranston's fetish for things no longer than a page. Perhaps the mythical appendix was meant as a completely distinct and separate half-page publication.....We may never know.


Cheerfully submitted by the "Committee for Extended Rights for Axe Handles"

Unfinished

If one were to
Think...
just Think.

Contemplate, Cogitate,
Masticate...
a Thought.

Turn It, Twist It,
Circulate...
these Emotions.

Guest post

I wanted to see how hard it was to create a link here...

Sleep. Sleep....

Sleeping way too much. Dreaming bizarre things. Could it be the drugs? Feeling caught between this waking world and the unconscious realm. Drifting. Heavy. Slowly....

Sleeping way too much. Dreaming bizarre things. Could it be the drugs? Feeling caught between this waking world and the unconscious realm. Drifting. Heavy. Slowly.

Offer Expires - June 30, Midnight

Well, Sports Fans, on June 30 at midnight I withdrew my personal ad ending a 3 year process that has yielded confused results. Initially an experiment from a foreign country into the realms of cyber-socializing that evolved into a myriad of chats, dates, and interactions - that particular monkey can now ride on someone else's back.

What I gained from this experience was disillusionment, punctuated moments of spurious joy, copious amounts of criticism, a refined sense of self, tidbits of sheer delight and a couple of friends. However, most importantly, I came to realize that there can never be a substitute for seeing someone across a crowded room; for the palpitating intrigue of chance meeting; or for the comfort of a best friend over a game of Scrabble.

The cyber-dating world is for the faint-of-heart and for the insecure. An outlet for fantasy and self re-invention. I leave it gladly and know that my search for intimacy will be much better served out there in that wide world of reality no matter how harsh it may be.

Good Luck to all of you who are still searching!

Get the REAL Skinny

I have no words for this other than....BRILLIANT!

http://www.bodyworlds.com

#3.14

As you near the end of a trying workday, you realize that you just have time to get to the library for some research that you have been putting off for ages. You zip over to your local branch, dash in and ask the desk librarian, a plain looking girl with glasses and mousy hair, if she can direct you to the rack containing information on animal slayings. She directs you with a slender pencil laden hand and a quiet courteous nod. As you turn to follow her directions, you smell the scent of old paper, tea roses and fresh skin. You glance back, but your shy librarian has already retreated behind her monitor.

As you browse through the stacks, you reflect on your recent encounter with the associate. It is getting near closing time and you realize that everyone is gone. You head over to the copy machine to Xerox some choice tidbits, and passing close to the office you notice your little reading rabbit getting ready to depart for the night. She has taken off her glasses in order to rearrange her hair, which previously you thought mousy, now tumbles down her back in soft waves. Her bulky cardigan is hanging on a rack and you can now see her plump bosom hidden beneath her demure lace collar, a delightful decolletage.

You watch as she deftly weaves and pulls her hair into a loose braid, her arms raised high above her head, sleeves ruched back exposing her milky white forearms. Her slim waist, delineated by her severe black skirt, aches to be encircled by your hands. Suddenly you realize that you are pulsing for her..this unknown girl-woman. Leaving your books on the nearest table you approach the office, the electrical smell of computers and the musty scent of old catalog cards growing stronger as you enter. You startle your timid prey and she jumps from her chair. Coming much too close you back her to her desk, her eyes wild with confusion. You gently stroke her cheek feeling the hot flush of her skin and you whisper, "I'll be back for more research..."