upside to the single life

i was talking with *t* about the whole breakup with *sy* thing. we got to talking about how dating can really seem to suck when you're discouraged like i am. i'm really trying to keep myself positive and upbeat. i've changed my manner and appearance to something a little more relaxed and approachable. i've spent $150 in the last week on singles websites like eHarmony, etc. i've bought books to help me change my mentality, get me into a better, more realistic frame of mind and some perspective. i'm not yet ready to go out there --alone-- to places where real people meet real people. y'know, places like the local watering hole, dog park, book stores. not yet ready for that because...well...people might not believe it, but i'm shy as hell. i don't know how to break the ice, approach people, or be outgoing when i'm not surrounded by people i've known for years. around new people, i'd much rather sit against the wall and watch. so it's hard for me to go "out there," and people who know me just don't seem to understand that.

so as i sit here and struggle with this state of singleness that i really don't enjoy, i thought i'd put a list up here of the upside to the single life. things i enjoy about being alone...

1.) i can sleep in and not feel guilty
2.) i don't have someone in bed keeping me awake (i'm the lightest sleeper in the universe)
3.) there's no one to look at the dirty dishes in the sink and wonder if i'm a slob
4.) being single is less expensive -- dinner and a movie is cheap for one!
5.) running around in my flannel jammy pants & pink fuzzy socks is damn sexy
6.) no comments to endure when i go without a bra
7.) farting with impunity
8.) don't have to drive anywhere if i don't want to, & gas is expensive even for the Funkmobile
9.) no guilt over how good i am at Dead or Alive (xbox 360)
10.) more leftovers for me

of course, nothing beats someone who loves me, treats me gently, showers me with affection, and holds me while i sleep, but hey. i'm being positive!



CAPRICORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): When the first George Bush ran for U.S. President in 1988, he worried that he and his wife Barbara appeared less affectionate in public than their opponents, Michael and Kitty Dukakis. "Sweetsie," he wrote to her, "Look at how Mike and Kitty do it. Try to be closer in, more romantic on camera. I am practicing the loving look, and the creeping hand. Yours for better TV and more demonstrable affection. Your sweetie-pie-coo-coo." Though my moral principles make it tough to ask you to imitate any president named Bush, it's my astrological duty to do that, at least in this one matter. Your Love Quotient has got to go way, way up. So please: Practice the loving look and the creeping hand. And find an excuse to call someone "sweetie-pie-coo-coo." [Source: *My Dear President: Letters Between Presidents and Their Wives.*]


ironic, don't you think? especially considering i'm still riding the dating horse pell-mell towards gods-know-what.

not that i have anyone to practice on, loving looks or creeping hands... i go to bed alone, wake up alone, and i think the only reason *sy* keeps calling me on occasion is to feel better about himself. but i'm not sure. all i know is i wish he'd stop. trying to move on and all.

and i've called people "sugar-butt" and "sweet pookie," i've even called some of my closer girlfriends "my sexy, mean strap-on queen," but "sweetie-pie-coo-coo???"


seppuku sunday

there's a definite Something going around the salon. this weekend we had three girls call in sick. on a weekend! on a gorgeous weekend, no less!

oi vey...

in the retail world, the weekend is usually the busiest time of the week. in the grooming world, it's pretty much the same. most people are home, got things to do, have people coming over, and the dog needs a bath or a trim. fluffy's getting so shaggy you can't even see his cute little brown eyes anymore, and he's starting to bump into things, poor kid. and bruiser rolled in pond mud and smells like stagnant water and duck crap. mm-mmm! nothing smells sexier to a dog than eu de what-the-fuck-is-that-stink. so to the salon they go!

of course, being short-staffed on a weekend is a death sentence for everyone else. i ended up pulling a 10-hr shift on saturday because there was no one else who was willing to close up the shop. of course, we were so slammed i never got an opportunity for any breaks or a lunch, which i got wrist-slapped for yesterday. of course, the same thing happened yesterday, but what can you do, hmm? and on saturday we got a visit from the wicked witch of the pacific northwest, whose dogs i had the extreme privelege of grooming.

can you just feel the sarcasm from there?

oh wow, this woman and her dogs were a piece of work. she harrassed me, insulted me, accused me of abusing her dogs, just all sorts of things. i can't help it her wretched yorkies were little monsters and bit me constantly. i slapped her with twenty dollars in special handling fees --which were approved by the mgr and to which she agreed-- and only when she continued to insult me and get hostile did my lovely disposition go out the window. i was always polite, but i won that insult contest hands down, and ended the conversation by turning my back on her and walking away.

some people only respond when you prove you're better at the game than they are, sadly enough. i hate being that way, and it takes quite a bit to push me that far. but don't insult my work when you haven't trained your dogs properly, and especially don't accuse me of animal abuse. animals and children are sacrosanct, thank you. people tend to forget their dogs' behavior reflects their own capabilities as pet parents. having helped train a service dog, where the quality of training and behavior are nose and tail above pet-quality animals, i know the difference very well.

however, i ended my weekend over at my parents'. have i mentioned how much i love them, and love going to their house? dad made menudo, and i always conveniently "forget" that i'm vegetarian whenever he makes it. i just can't help it! and dad fixed me two double ginger presses. basically it's whiskey and ginger ale, but he makes them much stronger than i do. a pint glass for me usually has a can of soda and half a shot, but he makes 'em double strength. and after dinner he had me try this very lovely port.

needless to say i stayed over last night...

i slept in their camper, and listening to the rain early this morning was glorious. the full-size bed was gloriously soft, and i pretty much crashed and slept the sleep of a happy daughter safe at mom and dad's. this morning dad and i enjoyed a cup of coffee together, and conversation. he got ready for work, and i went home --arms full of leftovers, as usual.

dad's such a wonderful cook. any man i find is gonna earn so many extra bonus points if i get to watch him enjoy himself in the kitchen. personally, i love puttering around and have always found the kitchen to be "my" territory, but my dad's the most masculine gentleman i know and watching him in the kitchen is part of that masculinity. my mom's definitely the luckiest woman in the world, i think. i'm the second luckiest: he's my dad.


e-signs of the iTimes

i'd say i'm back in the saddle again in the dating world, but it's more like i ran straight at the horse, jumped on bareback, and took off at a mad gallop.

i reinstated my membership over at eHarmony and took out a month membership over at match.com just to see what would happen. i've told all my friends that not only am i wanting a serious, committed relationship, but i even said i'm offering an award of 500$ to the person who introduces me to my future spouse.

it's my way of saying, "dude, i'm serious."

meeting people in the real world is a little more difficult, especially since i work in a small salon surrounded by nothing but women. i have no interaction with the other people at work, really. and i'm the new person, so it's not like they're even familiar faces i've seen for the past year like at my old store.

we'll see what happens, though.



CAPRICORN (Dec 22-Jan 19): I've got three messages for you. They may seem unrelated, but by this time next week you will see that they are intimately interconnected. 1. Unless you were raised in the woods by badgers, it's a perfect moment to slip into your second childhood. 2. Unless you really can't stand having your mind changed, it's an excellent time to launch a daring project that would have seemed impossible to the person you were a year ago. 3. People unsympathetic to your cause may think you're in the throes of delusions of grandeur, but those of us who have faith in your untapped powers say they're not delusions but viable fantasies.

last week after i smashed the glass and slammed my palm down on the Big Red Button, i took a step back and re-evaluated my life. there were a lot of things there that just didn't work anymore, no matter how perfect they were at the time of their inception. i decided to hold a sort of benevolent judgement day, tearing down everything that didn't work for me anymore and declaring a new aim.

and no, mr. brezsny, these three things make perfect sense to me right at this moment. i didn't know it was coming the way you don't know a glass door is coming. you only know it's there after you slam face first into it in front of all your friends.

but it's there. delena makeover and transmogrifaction (transmogrification?) seems to be the theme right now. and this applies also to Project: Bio-Mom.

i'm making myself over. i'm not only headed back to the gym today, but now that the produce section is getting a little more impressive, thoughts of a heavy-duty juicer have been dancing in my head again. there's a supply of ingredients for healthy smoothies in the fridge, and as soon as i feel up to it, i'm gonna wade through another detox. emotional, physical, spiritual.

to my sorrow but also to my relief, i'm saying "merry part" to my goddesses of war, retribution, and destruction whom i've served so faithfully. i've learned many lessons, and they've helped hone my core of strength to the keenest edge, but their demands also stand in the way of learning Love. i am unshakable. i can stand on my own. i can defend myself against those who would devour me for themselves. i am of Those Who Bleed But Do Not Die. death is my intimate ally and i know many of his secrets, but he can no longer be my bedfellow.

it's high time i not only realized my bombastic, soft divalicious center of Funky Love, but took hold of it and made it mine. i am She Who Takes No Shit (thank you, Lilith), but i am also Delena of the FunkyWild. i am a fantastic mother with hardcore values, and my hatchling is the luckiest kid in existence. the iGoddess-hatchling will be amazing. i am (almost) thirty, flirty, and fabulous. i've entered the prime of life, and i demand only the best. i will have love, and commitment, and intimacy, and really great sex...and all with one person for the rest of my life. i will meet him and he will be wonderful and everything i ever wanted. there will be more children. i will have beauty, truth, freedom, and love. i will become one with my Funk.

i couldn't do all that, have all that, say all that while faithfully serving the goddess i was called to serve. i am a servant of Goddess and take that very seriously, and when the goddesses of war, death, and destruction called (and everyone else stayed silent), i bowed my head and said, "i am yours." my apprenticeship was long and arduous. i lost much...but nothing i really needed. i only thought i did, and thanks to them i've learned to recognize the difference. and i've gained immeasurable skill and strength under their guidance. but too much pruning, too many spiritual apocalypses, was killing me inside. and it was defeating me.

it is now time to learn to be quiet, to perhaps be alone with The All for a time. i will worship, i will serve. and i will return to my people when i have received visions (as was done in the old world). but in the meantime i will let grow those things which have heretofore been held back. my Funk early last year was premature, but we all know the flower which has remained dormant all winter springs forth more beautiful than ever.

i will be a force to be reckoned with. we're making me over. so mote it be.


it's a question of motherhood

just a quick note to see how you are. your son has been asking for you... ps. you're going to be an aunt in late sept. miss you... love you, mom.

three mothers mentioned on that little sticky note placed into the box i received from my li'l sister *t* today. it had my christmas present inside (very prompt, i know, but it's hilarious), and a half dozen packages of my favorite chili in the world which, to my everlasting dismay, is impossible to find up here.

but i digress. the bio-mom has sent me another message. the last one arrived over a year ago, a small note saying "love you, miss you, thinking of you" stuck onto a small, private christian press book about daily blessings. i knew she was trying, but unfortunately in the wake of those words she spoke before my handfasting with *j*, it just didn't really seem to matter. my rage has cooled, as has my hatred, but the hypocrisy of her entire life still pisses me right the fuck off. in the three-or-so years since i've been rebuilding my relationship with the bio-dad, i've noticed how much divorce has agreed with him. he's really mellowed out, he's happier, he does things he enjoys. he bought a motorcycle, a big ol' hog he rides around town with *aj*, my little brother (who has a crotch rocket of his own). my bio-mother, on the other hand, went wild and turned childish. of course, it probably was her first taste of freedom, and she just finally had her chance to be seventeen while in her mid-fifties. scary.

but the hypocrisy enrages me. it still hurts to this day that i walked away from my dream of being someone's Mommy. there are bigger things out there than mommyhood, namely not abusing the shit out of your kids. it's taken me years of hard work to undo what was done to me by the adults in my life i wholeheartedly and unquestioningly trusted. i recognized the dangers i posed to my precious offspring, and i said goodbye to the whole thing. yes, my bio-dad beat us. my bio-mom let him...to save herself.

if you ever wanna see me go from zero to sixty in nothing flat, just bring up the topic of child abuse.

as a mother who sacrificed her motherhood, i say hers was the greater crime. no amount of denial, insecurity, self-doubt --nothing-- can justify throwing a child to the wolves like that. especially when it was her own children. giving birth is an unspoken promise to the universe you'll sacrifice whatever's necessary for the sake of that new person, from your dreams to your security to your very damn life. it's just what motherhood is.

i sacrificed my motherhood to be a good mother.

for the past couple of years i've been thinking it's high time to write her another letter. my first one, a few weeks after that fight we had, went unanswered. her weak attempts at reconnection over the years has been confusing. i am purely confused about the woman. and i've been holding back from writing her because i know i will still rip her a new one for her audacity, hypocrisy, and disrespect. i am a better mother than she ever was.

at the same time, thoughts of the iGoddess-hatchling has made me think excessively of li'l *c*. i want to be raising him soooo badly, and i know i never will. i want to be more active in his life, and i know i can't afford to. big *c* expects me to pay for all his travel (contrary to our agreement beforehand), bitches at me about money (while living rent-free with his mother in a gorgeous house in sacramento and driving a paid-off 2000 pontiac grand am), and cops attitude with me whenever i try to call my son. it gets to be such an ordeal that i end up nearly in tears by the end of it and am heartsick for days afterward. they never initiate phone calls, like it's all my responsibility. "oh," they say, "we never thought we'd hear from you," they say when i call, and yet they have my fucking phone number, too, the assholes.

sometimes i fantasize about being so rich i can afford a league of lawyers on retainer and sue the shit out of my ex for custody.

unfortunately, it's not my son that makes me sick. it's his father, and dealing with all that stupid shit associated with him. i've only now, in the five years since i left him, finally repaired my credit enough after the damage my marriage did...to include my ex's bankruptcy that ripped my credit a new one.

i've debated legally waiving my maternal rights, thinking it would be better for li'l *c*. the gods only know what he thinks about my rare contact with him. either way, i know it won't be until he's much older before he hears my side of anything.

and part of me wonders if i should give that chance to my bio-mom, to explain her actions. before anyone agrees because it's "just the right thing to do" (and subsequently makes me puke), i also have to wonder if her motives matter at all when what she did was throw her children into the lion pit to save her own sorry skin. fuck fairness. fuck maturity. and damn well fuck enlightenment and "being better than her." FUCK it. she can face the godsdamned firing squad and see how she likes it.

oh, she fought for one of her children, yes. her firstborn, her daughter, her favorite. after that, it was too much work. she told me that once. it was too much work for her to protect me when i was too small to protect myself. i was as fucked up, abused, shamed, and humiliated as i was because it was too much fucking work for her to protect me. what the absolute fuck?!

i can't forgive that. large parts of me were damaged beyond repair. i had to completely remake those parts. does anyone know and appreciate just how much fucking work that is? how much courage and strength it takes, and how much fucking fear i had to face? talk about looking into the face of terror. how much better of a person would i have been, if i hadn't had to spend so much time playing catch-up? what sorts of chances would i have had? would i have met someone special, the right man, a lot sooner if i hadn't had to spend so much time fearful and distrusting of abusive men? would i have been fucked up at all, if my role model had been someone who was strong enough to stand up for her children, thus teaching me i was worth something? would i have had to waste so much time re-inventing self-esteem, if i had been taught i had worth?

so many questions. i think it's time to write the bio-mom a letter, but not quite the letter she's expecting. i'm confused. i can't resolve her hypocrisy in my mind. i can't forgive her judgement of me as an unworthy mother, when i gave up my very motherhood for the well-being of my child. she failed me. better i'd never have been born than to have my mother fail me like that. true, people can say that i wouldn't be the wonderful, Funkalicious diva i am now if all those things hadn't happened, and they'd be absolutely right.

i'd be someone even better. and i deeply resent being robbed of all those opportunities.

[ps. my bio-mom is the woman in red. the handsome gentleman standing on her left is my li'l bro *aj*, and next to him is my li'l sis *t*. the giant next to her is her bf, and the two women on the far left of the pic is *aj*'s ex and her mother. this was taken at *aj*'s graduation.]


sacred life sunday

(yes, my bathroom is this clean. it is delena's haven of scensual delight and beauty. inside the funky orange jars are different homemade bath salts; the soap is wild honeysuckle from bath & body works; the different perfumes are surrounded by small jewelry boxes, scrunchies, and a set of my tarot cards; the green candles in the background are dragons with rhinestone eyes; and yes, the money is next to my blessings candle, hard-earned tips from grateful customers. and yes, the bath curtain is pink...)


attack of the id

about a month before *sy* broke my heart, i'd begun to have strange dreams and ...we'll call them "impulses." and they were troubling, for as much as i was (am?) in love with *sy*, i was constantly having strange dreams about *m*. and they were getting stronger all the time. i had no idea what was going on, why, or what to do about it.

so i did nothing.

and these past couple weeks --depression notwithstanding-- i noticed that not only were these dreams and impulses getting stronger, but they were downright overpowering. what did i want? what was i trying to tell myself? was there something unresolved in the *m* realm?

i didn't miss him. not really. i was sorry to have lost a pretty fun friend yes, but then again he hadn't really been a friend to me since before even moving out here.

and then, a few days ago, the urge to talk to him was so strong it nearly floored me. it certainly frightened me. i missed him.

what the...?

i began to list every single reason he was unhealthy for me, and totally not good for me. i listed every reason my family had to dislike him. i reminded myself of his outburst that finally drove me away. i relived my week of emotional detox, where *ds* and *ks* were literally afraid to let me by myself, i was such a wreck.

this man. is not. healthy. for me.

he is the very antithesis of the delena.

and yet the desire to be near him, to talk to him, to consider if i should try to get back together with him was scaring me with its strength and power. i came home from work last night and glued myself to my xbox purely so i wouldn't put on shoes and go talk to him right then. i knew he was home, and awake...

and i couldn't understand why.

of course, understanding the why of things is my habit, and so i wouldn't let myself act until i knew the source and understood it. it took my siblings to point it out to me. they're so smart...

and i think they're right. it isn't so much *m* that is drawing me as the simple fact that i was closest to careerlovemarriagechildren with *m*, even when we were miserable together. and he fought to try to get me to stay. and i mean he fought. albeit way too late to do anything but inspire resentment and suspicion, but he fought. *sy* just let me go because the psycho hose beast was holding his daughter hostage --which is despicable and disgusting and only proves what i've been saying about her all along. but whatever.

but *m* fought, and it was the first time in a long time that i felt he really wanted me. and we wanted kids together. and marriage. and i already had my career...

a part of me wonders if the closest i'll ever come is that disaster of a relationship. it's pathetic.

but i've told my friends: "if i were looking for a new job, i'd let you all know so you could help me find something good. well chicas, i'm in the market for a good man. if you find anything, lemme know."


delena haiku

rock, tree, salt, sand, sea
the place where earth meets water...
i am myself here.


breaking the glass

delena haiku

again and again
i'm drawn to where wave meets shore.
all is calm inside.


delena haiku

a lone gull in flight,
riding the cold sea breezes,
searches for haven.



CAPRICORN (Dec 22-Jan 19): "The great theme is not Romeo and Juliet," said poet Anne Sexton. "The great theme we all share is that of becoming ourselves, of overcoming our father and mother, of assuming our identities somehow." This is certainly your great theme, Capricorn. And it's especially important for you to devote yourself to it now. You're at a turning point in your life-long transformation. You're being presented with a clear-cut choice between sinking back into the ill-fitting yet comfortable mold that others have shaped for you, or else striding out into the frontier in a brave push to become a higher, deeper, more complete version of yourself.

on suset highway
over mountains and through rain
can respite be found.
--delena haiku

today i went in search of peace. or perhaps peace isn't the right word. but i went today in search of...something.

i actually woke up before 7; my boy was meowing so very pitifully outside my bedroom door. much as i love him, i don't let the little one sleep with me even though nothing would make me happier. alas, given i'm cursed as the lightest sleeper who ever lived, even his bath time keeps me awake and drives me nuts. i mean, it's wonderful he's so fastidious, but it's a nightmare trying to sleep with all that slurping and fussing and preening and grooming going on. drives me nuts. so he gets cuddles, then it's toss-out time when i want to finally go to bed.

so he woke me up with his crying and i let him in. i had actually intended to get up, but rumblestrut was so happy to be with me that he curled up under the sheets, his little grey-and-white chin resting on my hand, and he was purring so loudly i felt the vibrations in my chest. so we curled up together and took another nap. cat-induced narcolepsy.

i woke again around 10, this time determined to find what it was that tugged at me so. it was simple, getting ready. should the iGoddess-hatchling actually come into being, i'll miss these days of being so easily portable.

in oregon, there's really nothing worth much interest until you get to portland. the drive up the western side of the mountains is absolutely gorgeous, as is the drive through the columbia river gorge. however, once you hit wilsonville (about 30 mins or so south of downtown portland) there's nothing worth mentioning until you hit, say, san francisco. so i jumped on the freeway and headed north, and let the car go where it would. it rained off and on, typical of a portland april, and the sky was grey, and the warmest it got was around 50F. which, actually, is kinda warm up here.

two national parks and a thunderstorm later, i found myself on the oregon coast, taking a familiar route up to Hug Point, a favorite of mine. it's a secluded little cove, its entrance off the 101 so tiny you could blink at the wrong time and miss it. the little beach is maybe two football fields across -- maybe.

i always head to the far side. big surprise, huh? that little cave you see way in the distance is actually close to the parking lot. lots of people like to explore it. i have yet to do so. to get to this cove, you have to walk down a little incline, down wooden stairs that end a good two paces above nothing but rocks. and not big, climbable rocks, either. these are twist-your-ankle, no-reliable-footing kinds of rocks that extend the entire breadth of the cove, and about 50 feet in. there's no getting around them. that stretch of sand is about a third of hug point. the rest is rocks. not many people go there.

that's the point.

this huge rock jutting out of nothing is on my side of the cove. to me it's ginormous, and kind of reminds me of being at morro bay in california. that rock is famous. and sitting there between this jutting tooth of granite and the left arm of the cliffs, i always feel a little safer. like i'm flanked by two faithful sentinels who will make sure none approach me.

well, all except a curious little gull. unfortunately, my new camera i bought only yesterday is so new i had yet to realize the limits of its capacity, and the memory was already full before i could get a picture of him. no matter where i went, he was always there staring at me. curious little bugger, and bold as brass, too. i waved at him, stared at him, walked over to him, stuck my tongue out at him, and all he ever did was blink at me, turning his head this way and that as if thinking, "...the hell?"

i climbed rocks. i smelled seaweed and sand and brine. i felt the cold sting of the ocean breeze. my butt fell asleep on cold, sharp rocks bristling with tiny, razor-sharp barnacles. i scraped a knuckle on one of them. i listened to the churning, arthythmic roar of the waves restlessly pounding against one another. i heard the sigh of sea foam popping. i felt the pull of the tide, as i always do.

my favorite part of today was how i didn't have to say a single word as long as i didn't want to. i realized then that i'd gone searching for silence. in the chaos of work --with whirring dryers and fans, barking and howling dogs, ringing phones, clanging kennel doors, and women shouting over it all-- i can't hear anything but stress. in the echoing roar of depression and this black anger towards all men, i can't hear my heart. with my brother and sister, listening so hard for signs to their own moods, i've lost the sound of my own. in the clamor inside my own head --dates, errands, bills, online orders, available balances, insecurities, this utter failure as a lovable woman-- i can't hear anything else.

i just wanted silence.

i said seven words today, while ordering lunch. i'd even seriously debated writing it down, so i wouldn't have to break my wonderful silence, but i felt that might be too dramatic or drastic. i said, "clam chowder and salad, please." and then i said, "thank you," when my very nice server brought me my check with a smile on her face. but i was silent, and i didn't even pay attention to where my thoughts wandered. i let my emotions rise and fall as they would, rolling like the tide on the shore, burbling and foaming, gushing around rocks and filling gullies in the sand. and when they were done being felt, they receded back into the ocean of my soul...where the constant roar is muted, and soothing, and reminds us of the comforting roar that surrounded us when we first decided to sprout legs and climb out of the primordial soup.

a large part of me didn't want to go home because i knew i'd have to break the silence. i didn't want to. for the most part, i managed not to. none of my thoughts were completely focused. i wrote haiku. i read a little of the art of seduction, oh irony of ironies. vague thoughts of becoming other than myself began to surface, inklings that perhaps "being myself" was a load of bunk by misguided-yet-well-meaning people who had purchased at full price the politically correct propaganda of the new millennium. being myself hadn't worked. maybe i had to be more than myself. maybe it was time to remake myself. maybe the naked, granola, all my cards on the table, take-me-as-you-see-me organic amazon wasn't the right way to go. it might be genuine, but it's not exactly spiritually fulfilling. and i'm not happy, and i'm definitely no closer to ending this emotional exile known as "the single life." i tried embracing it, but i fucking hate it. and i hate living up to the labels others have given me, no matter how accurate they might've been at the time.

to be quite honest.

i've been approaching this event horizon for quite some time, possibly since my first suspicions that *m* and i were already falling apart. parts of me have already build their cocoons and are transforming themselves. other parts are boiling away excess. only now --even as i write this entry-- do i realize that while this idea seems new to me, already i've been undergoing the process of this new genesis.

and with that parting thought, i leave you with more delena haiku:

the deep ocean roar
calls to something deep inside--
perhaps calls me home.


april showers

i know that i'm bipolar, and yet it always manages to blindside me when it hits. another change. and this one's not so good. i need to withdraw into myself, and ironically enough that's terribly difficult to do when surrounded by people who love you. i want to be alone so badly. i miss *sy* so much, but whatever. every once in a while i even think of calling up *m*, but i keep trying to convince myself thoughts like those are only proof that right now i'm really, really ill. sometimes it even works. the truth is, i've looked into my future and i don't like the loneliness there. maybe it's a sign that i'm not strong enough inside to love myself enough so my own company is always enough for me. that's just not how i'm built. maybe that means i'm built inferior to the fantastic women who make it on their own and are fine with that. maybe it means i'm built differently. but different or not, somewhere along the line i was branded as a solitary figurine and i can't bear it. the proof is all around me, though, and i'm always saying i pride myself on my pragmatism. even if i don't like that the world is round, i have to accept it. same thing here. and yet, all i can be is myself. apparently that's not enough, not nearly. what's good enough for family is like kryptonite to lovers. the iGoddess-hatchling was a decision made in defiance, because what i really want is a lover and mate and childrearing partner. what i've got is an emptiness inside me so wide that it's kicked off the brain chemicals and i'm drowning in it.


fox force funk

a while ago, *ks* and i were having a conversation with *sy* over clove cigarettes about just what it means to be a silverfox. that was difficult enough. trying to explain our particular quirks only added to the mess, i think.

then again, i think it takes a particularly special individual to comprehend all things silverfox. we're a fox of a different color.

explaining my family to outsiders is always a challenge. most opt to simply take my references at face value when i say "my sisters and i," or "one of my brothers..." all told, between my biological family and my adopted ones, i have five sisters and three brothers. my youngest sister (bio) has the same name as the manager lady who --for comedy's sake-- is no longer a manager nor works in the same store as i do. we both transferred out due to The Stupid Drama over at my original salon. two sisters and one brother are biological, two sisters are adopted via my adopted parents, and *ds* and *ks* are my other adopted family. the family from which i received my new last name. and yes, i was so serious about both my new families that i went to court and changed my name.

so i have three families. cool, ain't it? i think so.

one thing that i think bonded the foxes together was kuma, the pom-chi-shih-poo wunderhund. he was the best little dog, and he considered us his pack. he was a working dog, a psychiatric service dog who was attuned to not one, but three individual human beings with our own quirks, training cues, and warning signs. and he learned us all, and he loved us all unabashedly. in some ways he was the heart of our unconventional family.

it's no secret i have bipolar disorder. in fact, it's such old news. saying, "hey, did you know delena's bipolar?" is kinda like saying, "hey! did you hear the earth is round??!?!" fucking duh. but having kuma around made going out so much easier. i was never alone, and i had him to focus on and talk to. he kept my mind from doing some of the things it does when i'm alone. it even made picking up the phone and calling strangers so much easier. he gave me confidence and strength and comfort. he made me laugh. he loved me. i have trouble with social situations, and sometimes even walking out the front door is terribly difficult. with him, it was so different...

but the silverfox family doesn't have him anymore, and we are lesser for his absence. but as we were trying to explain that night on the porch, all three of us foxes have some sort of disorder which makes the public a burden and a strain on us mentally and emotionally. and considering we're living in an apartment, we can't exactly fit psych service dogs in with us. at least, not right now.

and yet we have discovered that we are our own version of psych assistance when we go out together. we keep each other balanced and focused, and together we keep our strength. we do so much together that, while it might be hard for all of us to face the outside world at any given time, the fact we do it together makes it not so bad. we feed each other, clothe each other, support each other, shelter each other. now, nothing will replace the need for a four-legged furry at our right-hand side (since we can't be together everywhere), but the fact that we're all there for each other is just one of those remarkable things that we realized recently.

now, in their right mind, who wouldn't want to belong to such a family???



"most gods throw dice but Fate plays chess,
and you don't find out 'till too late that [s]he's been playing
with two queens all along."

--terry pratchett

one of my biggest pet peeves is being misunderstood simply because someone else is too ignorant to consider asking me for clarification. i'm like my sister *cc*; there are some days when i sincerely believe fucktards should be wiped from the face of the earth. i could go into examples, like when my older bio-sister *k* read an entry on my blog years ago that pissed her off. i haven't spoken to her since. she was a fucktard that day. or like now, with my schedule at work fucked over because my mgr. heard what she wanted to hear instead of what i was saying. i hate that.

of course, i simply can't stand being misunderstood, period. so much shit happens when the ignorant take action. look at the US government.

i say this only because i feel the need to clarify something about myself: i am not a superstitious, fundamentalist pagan who believes we are mindless pawns in a titan game of chess. i am, however, aware there is more influencing our lives than we can cognitively perceive. i believe in reincarnation and that we are pieces of the universe trying to figure itself out, trying to learn the big lessons; that we are fragments of the AllSoul growing closer to itself by splitting apart and exploring the miracles of the mortal palette.

Infinity had so much Love that it had to share it with someone. but Infinity was alone, so It split apart and invented Creation because only in a finite state could such illusory concepts as "love," "loyalty," and "partnership" become real. i would say that it's amazing how, after a few millennia, everything begins to look the same...except that after that much time has passed, nothing will have the ability to surprise, amaze, or fascinate you. it's all the same, and those wonderful things like "happiness" and "devotion" have become gift-wrapped packages with nothing inside them. even the brightness of the wrappings will have faded.

Infinity was bored, and lonely (only after that much time, It had become so accustomed to Its own company that even loneliness had faded), and wanted to recapture those wonderful things it knew In the Beginning. for In the Beginning, there was light and It Was Good.

and so the AllSoul shut its eyes, focused Its will, and all the energy contained within Infinity went BANG! and the Jiggy Snake went, "WEE!"

Dichotomy was born.

for when Grey splits apart, a horde of spectra come into being, each with its own set of twins sitting on opposite ends, facing off. and Dichotomy had children of Its own (for Dichotomy was a full hermaphrodite): the twins Light and Dark, the twins Joy and Sorrow, the twins Hate-Love and Indifference, Hope and Despair...

and this big bang jostled Time out of her slumber. and She said, "if I am to measure all things, I must have points of reference. if there is to be a Genesis in all things, there must be a Terminus."

with this statement, the final children of the AllSoul came from the place where They had been waiting. "that is Our domain," said Life and Death.

and thus were mortals blessed as the luckiest beings in existence. and by "mortals," i don't just mean humankind, either. anything that's born, lives, and dies hit the jackpot in this little experimental snowglobe called Creation. pachyderms have the strongest sense of family of any mammal i know. dogs have cornered the market on devotion and loyalty. swans, whales, and wolves understand commitment better than 97% of the rest of the mammal kingdom. dolphins invented play...

the children of Dichotomy began to develop facets of themselves when humans began to give them names. humans have the ability to focus thoughts and energy with such constancy that, over time, that focus manifests into reality. how else do you explain the gods having different names in different regions, being so similar but having slight differences based on culture, and yet each god is alive and well and active in that place? humans create the gods just as much as the gods create humans.

and every time we are reborn, being that we are pieces of the All learning more about Itself, we choose which lessons we'll learn the next time around. we place ourselves in the best possible positions to learn those lessons. every person, every event in our lives is there because we have called them there. what we choose to do with them is up to us. that's why i always look for the lesson.

that's not to say the gods don't take an interest in certain specimens of the human experience. we resonate better with some more than others. sometimes there are those humans who've been working with certain dieties over the course of lifetimes. Fate has a certain amount of influence over us, as does Her brother, Free Will. as do Chance and Order, Good and Evil, Fries or a Side Salad...

and at any point in time, we are always free to break the protective glass, flip open the switch covering, and slam on the big red button that says, "I Change My Mind."

. . . . . *blink*

. . . . . . *blinkblink*. . . . . .

--- *long pause* ---

i think that's just about where i am right now. i'm looking at the button, i'm holding the baseball bat, but i can't quite bring myself to break the protective glass just yet.



CAPRICORN (Dec 22-Jan 19) - Want to know a secret? I "predict" the present, not the future. In other words, I discern unconscious patterns and invisible influences that are affecting you *now.* I also try to inspire you to read your *own* mind so as to uncover feelings that you've been hiding from yourself. So I can't necessarily tell you what specific events will transpire in the coming days. But I do suspect the following things are true, although you may not be aware of them yet: You are in the midst of redefining what home means to you. You've been neglecting a deep need that's a bit embarrassing to you. And there's a place in your foundation that's in disrepair and requires your immediate attention.

i've been in the midst of redefining what home means to me for quite some time now. my pack and i have spent considerable time lately trying to verbalize the family code, so to speak. this, of course, makes the iGoddess-hatchling extra special. we're a matrilineal family. i pray so hard for a girl it's not funny, and completely un-PC but i don't care. i want a girl, dammit.

but yes, mr. brezsny, i know i've been finding new definitions of my idea of "home." i have for quite some time. but i know i've been treating certain aspects of it as a big white elephant in my living room. shut up.

as for some deep need that's a bit embarrassing to me? you mean aside from the fact that all these words and feelings regarding the dead dream are piling up inside me and, because i know no one cares to hear or read about them, i've been holding it all inside and it's tearing me apart a little bit? at this point, i don't know whether the deep need is to talk about it until i stop mourning, or if it's just the fact that in this day and age mrs. cleaver isn't exactly an approved or acceptable goal to achieve and makes me seem a threat to progress and the womens' movement? all i know is that i'm choking on this need to sort through everything about my sorrow, rage, confusion, and helplessness, and on those times i've brought it up i've been met with a whole lot of silence.

a few nights ago i had this waking dream in which i had locked myself in an empty room with a large kitchen knife from my set, and repeatedly stabbed myself in the throat with it. in the dream, i had even lost grip of the knife but it continued to stab me on its own. i could feel the angled, downward pressure every time it bit into my throat. i could hear myself choking on blood and words and emotions. whenever i get sick, i wake up with a sore throat first.

now, naturopathically and magically speaking, i know exactly what this means. but hell if i know what to do about it. no one wants to hear a woman lament about never being able to be a stupid housewife, and no one wants to hear an inner girlchild crying about the terror that was life in a house like hers and how she used to play with stuffed animals like they were children and have an imaginary husband.

yeah, i didn't have imaginary friends. i had an imaginary husband. lame, isn't it?

it could also be the deep need to explore the aspects of the goddess who chose me (dammit), and to express my fascination with and love for her. but not many people like to hear about lilith, those people who are even familiar with a concept outside the realm of generic christianity. which is to say, "not many."

as for my foundation needing immediate attention to fix that spot of disrepair, i might have an idea what it is. one could say that i've let rage and vengeance creep into my Funk, which is like having beetles and dry rot eating away at the support beams of my inner mansion. and i'm struggling with it. but another someone could say that i've been struggling against the wrong things. lilith is no light and airy, funky fizzbang of a divalicious rockstar sort of goddess.

she's the one spoken of in the Song of the Rising Tides, the end of days:
o you children of seth

mother is coming.
mother is here.
with her lessons of madness

and hands full of blood
she comes to make the world anew
and her chariot is pain and horror...

see the broken chamber of 500 years
and the shattered crystal upon the floor
see the stones weeping and the dragons free
lilith is coming.
lilith is here!

there's a reason she's known as the Queen of the Hells. in babylon they called her Lamashtu. in greece she is Hecate. in india, she's called Kali. but kali and hecate have been "prettified" in some respects, and lamashtu is shoved into a corner. lilith is rarely known. she refuses to be cleaned up and made acceptable. there's a time and place for everything, and the Funk can't be All. too much of a good thing, right? to do that would be to deny aspects of myself. my Self.

what if the place in my foundation that's in disrepair and requires immediate attention isn't the fact i'm suffering the influence of my dark side, but the fact i'm denying it?


blog: the mental junk drawer

some people use their blogs to write about a specific place, or to chronicle their travels in far-off countries (far-off as in "far away from america," at least), or explore a certain aspect of themselves. some have themes. some have a tone, whether it be happy, dark, poetic, sarcastic, fictional, et cetera ad infinitum.


my blog is more a place to hop online and rummage around inside my head as long as a person would want to. it's really become, less a message in a bottle as once it was, more of my own mental junk drawer of thoughts, ideas, perspectives, observations, questions, rants, spirituality, exploration, and more. and all, really. nothing's too secret, too private, too disturbing, too "anything" to put up here.

sometimes i can't even begin to describe the risk and courage it takes to be that open about myself. it was on my blog when i finally "came out" about the child abuse i'd suffered growing up. when those repressed memories came out? BAM! there went denial right out the window, and i had to put it somewhere. all my anger and confusion at big *c*, when my marriage was falling apart around me? up on the blog. back in texas, when i was addicted to my burning? up on the blog. so many oh-so-personal things, and i slap it up here for anyone on the planet to read, as long as that person has internet access.

some people tell me that it's TMI, too much information, and that some things should be kept private. but...private from whom? and why? if they don't want to know it, they can just stop reading my blog. i have nothing to hide. the best place to hide is right out in the open. and i'm more than available for people to talk to about the things i post here; many people do write to me regarding some of my topics. only the insecure and self-absorbed jump to conclusions instead of clarifying details with the author of these very words.

but sometimes i find that there's no proper person with whom to share some of these things. as i said before, i took a Vow of Honesty every bit as binding and sacred as a catholic priest's Vow of Chastity (and that some choose to violate that Vow is immaterial; it's still sacred). some truths need to be said to certain individuals.

what happens when those individuals are inaccessible? or if speaking to them would stir up more sludge than it's worth? more often than not, it goes up here in the public-access mental junk drawer.

the past couple weeks i've been thinking a lot about *m*. and i mean a lot. it's been rather confusing, the hurt and anger it's been stirring up. and lately i dream that i sneak over to his house and peek in his windows, or check to see if his car's in the driveway, something. i'm always trying to get up my courage to knock on his door to tell him my thoughts, and before i can do so, he always catches me and i have to fess up. those feelings are more of regret and a desire to make peace, a desire to tell him i really do still care about him (not that i'd ever want to be with him again because it's not "that" kind of caring, y'know?) and it really does suck things ended up the way they did. but in my dreams, he's never listening. we either end up fighting, or i walk away feeling stupid and frustrated. i know he'd never listen to me, only hear what he wanted like he always did.

so it goes in the junk drawer.

*sy* broke up with me today, and i can't even say i'm that surprised about it. even back in january, four days after we got together, i knew how we would end. ever since the night of the great Kabloosh, i've known. i said we were stamped with an expiration date and that i'd just wait to see how it played out, and i was right. it was the messy, hostile, invading past relationship with the psycho hose beast that did it. she's read this blog pretty religiously, from what i can tell, and has tried before to use it against me, interpret this blog wrongly and then fill *sy*'s head with fucked up bullshit about me. today, instead of going to the source (i.e. ME), he decided to believe her interpretation and fuck off, delena.

it saddens me, really, because she's toxic and he's really a good guy. i gave him a chance. i hate that i saw this coming. i hate that i was right. i hate that he can't handle honesty like mine, and i hate that she's such a cunt.

however, i never lost myself. i remained true to my own Self, never lied, never compromised my beliefs, always demanded respect and gave it by the bucketload in return. i always remained true to my pack. i never gave more than i could afford to, spiritually or emotionally or financially. i remained loyal to the iGoddess-hatchling. i retained the grace, dignity, and untamedness of the Funkywild. i was always delena.

i consider this a Lilith Litmus Test of sorts. i didn't fall right back into trying to regain the dream, didn't try to raise the dead. the universe wants me to be alone, and i suppose this could be seen as a test as to whether i would always lose myself in relationships. i passed, i think. relationships come and go, and the sort of love i've always wanted is just nowhere in my future landscape. it's kinda funny, and i know dizzy would say that there's just something about me that's like kryptonite to bullshit. not that she'd use those words, but something infinitely more hilariously sarcastic, but all in all it would mean that i can't tolerate bullshit, and bullshit can't tolerate me. too fucking bad there's so much of it in the world i'm left with precious little else.

not that i don't value what i'm left with. i'm left with --what-- a family that adores me, friends that would do anything in their power for me, a great career and a boss that sticks up for me, the Funkmobile that provides me freedom, and i live in paradise-on-earth. i'm healthy, focused, mature, strong in my spirituality, and unshakable in my love.

see, universe? i can be in a relationship and not lose what you gave me. see, universe? i can be not in a relationship and be just as happy. see, universe? i accepted what you wanted and never compromised it. see, universe? see? self-love and self-respect. it's like kevlar against despair.


the price of love, pt. i

the valley treated me well. after my resurrection and baptism, there came a renaissance of childhood where i was given every good thing, feasted upon the delectibles of Nature's bounty with no thought other than that it gave me joy. i had my chores, yes, but afterward there was only play.

i had stood tall in the face of the pomegranate priestess, confident in my new knowledge, had stolen her sickle and torn a strip of her robes to tie back my hair. it fluttered about and caressed my naked body in the breeze. there was nothing but me, the sun, Valley-in-the-Glade, the Sentinels guarding our peace there with their majesty and patience, and the laughing river sparkling like rhinestones over the rocks.

in the Valley, gravity worked differently. when i got up to run, i ran like a pegasus on the air, my toes barely touching the ground and my hair streaming behind me. when i swam, the water was so light and clear it was like song on my skin, and when i breathed it was like inhaling liquid laughter. i lay on the grass beneath the sun, watching clouds play into shapes for my amusement, and the grass reached around to cradle me.

there was nothing i needed, and i wanted for naught.

my hair had been left hanging free down my back, and it had begun to form thick tendrils on its own. catching my shadow on the ground, it seemed as if snakes sprouted from my crown and twined about me with minds of their own. sometimes, if i stared long enough at my shadow, i could almost hear the whispers as they hissed wisdom in my ears. i could almost feel the caress of their forked tongues against my shoulders, the back of my neck. in play, i became quite good at twining my red scarf about my head, coiling my dreadlocks into elaborate piles atop my head, leaving one or two to twine around my neck as my only adornment.

for i was a wild thing in the Valley. when i thirsted, the river gave me drink. when i hungered, the Valley offered up delicacies like spongy mushrooms, tender shoots and berries. squirrels shared their nuts with me, birds their seeds. i slept when i tired from my play, played with whom i would, climbed the trees to hear their thoughts, and never wanted for anything.

"have you enjoyed your stay here in the Valley?" she asked.

i looked over at her as if she had always been there. i had not seen her in what seemed an Age, and yet her appearance did not surprise me. she looked much like me this time, only her robe was a red so deep at the hem it seemed black. the color lightened as it went up, as if the black seeped upwards until at about knee-length her robes were the same vivid blood-red as all the others. the black hem glistened, hung heavy as if wet.

her feet were tattooed, as were her hands. except instead of the whorls and spirals, dots and serrated edges to which i had grown accustomed, her tattoos were in a very unique spatter, with large spots of red, some of which remained perfectly round while others had been fashioned as if the red dribbled down her feet. beneath her toenails had been tattooed a deep red, and around her cuticles. the same for her hands. there were splashes up past her elbows, and her hands were almost completely stained red. there was even a few splatter-tattoos up her face.

the entire effect was...

i looked down at her hem. it was dripping. droplets of a red so dark it could only be blood splashed onto her feet.

those weren't tattoos.

"oh, they're quite real," she said. then she grasped the hem of her robes, flicked them sharply, and more blood spattered onto her face. i watched in breathless amazement as the blood seeped into her skin, became a blood tattoo etched permanently into her cheek. "my caste is a small one within the priestesshood." she gave me a dry smile. "not all of us wield a sickle, flash blue skin and red hair, and lovingly burn heaven to the ground. they talk of Those Who Bleed but Do Not Die and yet know only what is common and necessary." she shook her head, and the bones decorating her dreadlocks rattled like hollow reeds. "they do not go into the death."

she looked at me then, and i could see the red in her eyes. the bone ring through her left nostril glinted dully in the sunlight. "you have enjoyed your stay, yes?"

"my stay?" i replied. "have i overstayed myself?"

she laughed, surprisingly rich and genuine for such a dark priestess. "you may stay until the end of days when the Jiggy Snake swallows his own tail once more, for all we care. it is completely up to you." she shrugged, looked off across the water. "you have paid your price."

"yes..." i narrowed my eyes at her, wondering. "i have paid, and worked, and endured. i have learned and grown..."

"and i understand one of my sisters has called you sister?"

"she did." my heart was beating hard beneath my breastbone. "she said few make it this far, and fewer survive. are you here to kill me?"

again she laughed. "my goddess, no! i am here to invite you. there is within you a deep affinity for this path of ours." she tapped the vial of river water still in my hands. "you hold on for the chance to bless someone else, but perhaps your blessing would be better used for your own power?" she tapped the vial again, and i saw there was blood inside instead of water. i gasped, and she only leaned in closer. "you hold the power of the darkness of the moon inside you," she whispered, "and the little death within you triggers the possibility of new life to burst from you in the form of a seed. it is there, this seed, hopeful and waiting in the nest of your blood, waiting for a male seed to join it and beget life. when it dies, you wash in the river of this dark power, and again the cycle is renewed."

she wrapped a blood-stained hand around my wrist. "your death triggers life. the dead before you have given you life." she raised a brow at me. "i wonder, my sister, how you will go about making your amends to the dead?"

to pt ii

the psycho hose beasts of the world

y'know, i've done a lot of thinking the last two and a half years about my Kali Summer. i mean, there's a reason i call it my Summer of Funky Kali Love. i used to call it The Year I Lost Everything, but i realized shortly after it happened that what i was left with was everything that truly meant something to me, people that truly loved me, and what i had left behind was everything that was holding me back, keeping me down, or making me feel very badly about myself.

and that's exactly what Kali does: she takes the shit you don't need and rips it off of your back. yeah, she takes skin right along with it, but i think she does that to force her people to take time to rest, heal, and grow it all back more beautiful than before.

everyone in the world, just about, knows of a catholic priest's vow of chastity. i've been keeping this secret to a select few, but i think now's the time to finally bring it out into the open. i promise, it ties into the rest of this entry: when i was ordained a priestess, i took a vow of honesty. it was to honesty in all things i made my vow in the presence of the All, by whatever name you call It.

this vow is so encompassing, i cannot even lie to myself. this blog has survived, in part, because it's the perfect place for me to work out my thoughts and feelings purely to make sure i'm not lying to myself. it's also a great place to put my thoughts and feelings as they are, so as not to hide them from myself. everyone worth their salt knows that unacknowledged feelings go deep inside you and begin to eat at you like cancer until you are so warped and disfigured in your soul that you're unrecognizable from the wonder-filled child you used to be.

sometimes i think this is what happened to the people who tried so hard to destroy me during my Kali Summer. there were unacknowledged feelings there that had warped them, made them resentful and vengeful, unsatisfied unless someone was suffering. they resented others' happiness, others' prosperity, the truth that they might not be as admired or liked as they want.

people like that are to be pitied, but not empowered. and by "empowered" i mean they shouldn't be encouraged to behave that way, shouldn't be fortified by watching others suffer by their toxicity.

*sy*'s ex --whom we all know as "the demented psycho hose-beast"-- is one such person. she's so toxic, so selfish and immature, that she still tries to find ways to hurt me. right now her latest ploy is setting him up so i'll think he's cheating on me. whether he is or not is completely immaterial. we never decided to be a committed relationship, anyway. it's the fact she finds me so threatening, the fact that it drives her crazy she doesn't have *sy*'s worship anymore, that's so...pathetic and small and sad. people like her need serious therapy. they need to be patted on the head and told, "oh, you poor baby. it's okay, you just need to grow up a bit more."

it's just so amazingly sad. the people of my Kali Summer couldn't touch me, not really. and neither can she. it's just amazing she wouldn't decide, instead, to focus on more important things: like being a good mother, like bettering herself, like learning to be more mature and not such a petulant, selfish toddler who's so insecure in herself that she feels she needs her ex-husband's blind and desperate devotion back just so she can feel good about herself. people like her make me squeamish and shiver like that time i stepped on a slug barefoot. it's just horrifyingly gross.

how does this tie in with my Vow? only that i can never lie. i can't. and believe me when i say that she can never truly touch me. i'm sad for her. i'd never trade places with her, not for all the money and fame in the world. because if i did, i'd have to regress too far, and that's just sick.


after the ball, and the wonderful life

vampire ball was a blast.

an absolute blast.

i'd post our amateur pictures up on my blog...except that both owners of digital cameras forgot them. i fucking need to buy myself a fucking camera. they're expensive. i'll most likely never own one, not if it means paying hundreds of dollars just for shits and giggles.

on the other hand, i keep kicking myself because i've missed thousands of photo opportunities that i'd have loved to share on this frickin' blog.

but do not despair! there were professional photos taken, which will arrive in about two weeks. i sat for solo pics, purely because a.) i was instructed to by my darling *sy* (whom i've taken to calling "my puerto rico suave," lol) and b.) for photographic proof that my hair looked fucking awesome for one night. there were family pics with me, *cc*, *ds*, and *ks* all together. of course, my lovely *ds* and *ks* got one of them together, and they're just so fucking adorable. and then *cc* and i got one together. we intend it to be a birthday gift for dad later this month.

our exact words to the photographer were, "well, it's gonna be a birthday gift for our dad. he'll absolutely love it, but mom's a bit straight-laced and, well, we wanna scare her." if possible, i'll post our pic up here, just so y'all can have a fall-out-of-your-computer-chair, tears-streaming-down-your-face laugh. we're talking total cheese, flashing fishnet stocking-covered thigh and all.


i came home this afternoon and after my just-sit-home-and-relax "me time" that i usually try to give myself, i got out of the shower, stood in the middle of the living room, and just sighed. *ds* purred at me in question. (we speak in kitty here in our house, remember?) "oh," i said. "it's just..." i searched for words.

"i had a wonderful night's sleep in my wonderful bed, in my wonderful apartment, where i live with my wonderful siblings. i had a wonderful day at work, where i work with wonderful women now --who love me wonderfully-- and even got a wonderful tip." i pointed at the almost-full-pound bag of ghirardelli chocolate squares i was given as a tip today. "i have a wonderful boyfriend, and i have a wonderful family. i just took a wonderful shower, and i'm looking forward to a wonderful weekend." i pet my kitten, rumblestrut, who was purring at me from the top of the cat tree. "yes," i said to him, "i even have a wonderful kitty! now, if we can just have a wonderful dinner..."

"it'll just be a wonderful day?" *ds* finished up.

"that's it exactly," i said. and it is. it's just...it's a wonderful life.