Because bad taste is better than no taste at all.....

Monday, July 27, 2015

#317: It's the small things

There are days when I feel very small in this big world of ours. Insignificant. Like I don't matter a whole lot. Not a new feeling, I have to admit. And it's difficult when no one really sees you for who you are, or they think they know you and they really don't.  But then I find things that really are small, and they don't worry about getting lost, they just do the best they can with what they've got. I suppose I should do the same. Just hang out in the sun and make the best of things.  

It helps to be sure to look around you, if you want to see the things that other people miss seeing. Little tiny things that most overlook. You'd be surprised at what may be lurking in the basil. A couple of years ago I found a rather large, bright green spider here. She was eating a bumblebee, so I left her alone. I nicknamed her "Basil" and left her a tall stalk for her to lay her eggs on. I haven't seen any more of that kind of spider in there. But I did find one of these lurking.  

 We apparently have a lot of these around here. I don't mind too much. This may be the same one, just older. I don't really know the life cycle of these things, only that they eat harmful bugs, and they're really neat. 

I'm a little strange in that I'm not very "girly". That is, insects don't bother me a whole lot. If it's a roach, certainly, it meets the bottom of my shoe real quick. But I catch the spiders that get "lost" in the house, as well as the stink bugs that somehow find their way in. 

Of course, we have more than just bugs here. We have the things that EAT the bugs as well. This little guy usually hides in the trees, and you hear him and all his little friends at night. They put up quite a racket calling for Mrs. Frog. I actually found this one several days later crawling up the side of the trailer. I had to catch him and throw him off into the woods, so the owls wouldn't eat him. 

This, believe it or not, is a snail. They live all in the creek here. I'm guessing the crayfish and raccoons snack on them for dinner. Never was a big fan of the thought of escargot, but whatever trips your trigger.

So don't forget to look down, you never know what little friends you could be making.... ;) 

Tuesday, July 21, 2015

#316: in 5's

So I've been dwelling on this for a month or so.
Haven't slept much in that time, as I thought about what I was going to say.
Tried rehearsing it as a speech--what did I have to fear, from this audience of one?
Couldn't eat. Couldn't think. Driven near to distraction.
Finally, the pieces fell into place, and we could talk.

All those careful thoughts were useless, I still cried a bit.
He promised he would fix what needed fixing--this time.
Still, I don't think it really hit home for him until he realized
I'd moved my clothes and some of my personal things into the Meg's room,
and told him I'd be sleeping on the futon for a while.

I don't know when we'd slipped from being lovers to roommates;
but the transition was both easy and difficult to do.
My doubt remains that things will improve, but we will see.
Amusingly, my fit revealed to him not only that he'd screwed up, and how,
But that he "still had a shot". If only he can get his shit straight.....

As I write, the television is on a channel that runs old, old game shows.
It is somewhat disconcerting to see a young, bubbly Betty White (from the early 1960's)
Along with a much, much younger Johnny Carson, in black-and-white
Play "To Tell The Truth", and sell Anacin pain reliever.
The video footage flickers where they've been unable to restore it.

Meanwhile, my mind turns with present conversations with others
regarding what qualifications signify a person as "nice",
and which do not.  Am I a nice person? Others seem to think so.
While I do not. At least, not to the extent they seem to believe.
Boy, do I have them fooled, I can't help but think.

Actions speak louder than words, they say.
My actions, then, are of a selfish person.
Yet for some reason, people do not see this.
I wish I could see what they see.
maybe I'd be less confused. And less lonely.

On the other side of the world, a friend will be getting off work.
We think of each other a lot, and in ways that are not always correct.
I wonder where this friendship is going--where can it go?
The feeling is both familiar and alien. I feel accepted,
and yet I am cautious. I question the perfection. I always do.

I look around the miniature world my life has become.
old comforter-covered futon, older battered unicorn clock
ticking the evening away, tattered copies of books read
and escaped into when I was younger.
This sort of escape holds no charm for me now.

Wednesday, July 15, 2015

#315: Thanks a Bunch.

I seem to remember thanks being in order, but I can no longer remember your name.

Come to think about it, I don't even really remember what you looked like, or how old you were at the time. All I remember is you invited me to your sleepover. Maybe you felt sorry for me, because my cousin was having one, too, and you understood how miserable it was to not have friends of your own. 

I don't remember much of that evening. I think we sat up late and watched some cheerleading competition going on on the television. I remembered we had a "party war" going on, we'd call the radio station and diss what was going on next door, and then my cousin and her little gaggle of friends would call and do the same about us. I caught hell for that the next day from my cousins, but it was worth it.

Anyway, thank you for giving me a taste of what a normal childhood, normal teenage years, is supposed to be. 

And you. I'd love to thank you, but you never told me *your* name. 

Just as well. You probably weren't serious about what you wrote on your note. Not really. But it was nice to think someone thought my high top sneakers were "neat", and you made a point of mentioning my purple socks, so I guess you were paying some kind of attention. You also mentioned my hair, but at the time there wasn't much I could do with that, sorry. It looks a lot better now. 

You signed it simply "your secret admirer". And I'd love to know if you were really serious about that. At the time I thought it was someone being mean, so I didn't keep the letter. I wondered later on, though. About you. Thanks. 

And thank you to the woman, who returned my loafers. I know it was only under pretext; you really wanted to check up on how I was doing. You don't see people survive after flying 40 feet from the back of a motorcycle every day, especially ones who aren't wearing the right kind of helmet. Not to mention their shoes coming off in mid-flight, and all they really have at the end of the day is some "road rash" and a fractured hip. You were a nurse, and so you stopped your car and helped. Thank you. 

And to the nurse at the hospital, who tried to give me a card to her church: I appreciate it. Really. I am sorry if I came across as rude at the time, but I felt (and still do) that having just lost a child through a miscarriage is really not the time to be recruiting for said church. You meant well, I am sure. Thank you for at least trying. 

And I also would like to thank the woman who came up to me in the craft store. You know who you are. You came up to me while my daughter and I were wandering around looking at knitting needles. You said, "Excuse me. I've seen you out walking with your daughter, and I just had to ask.....Do you... NEED anything? " While I got a little irritated that you apparently follow the line of everyone else's thinking and assumed that I was a poor, unwed teenage mother with no car simply because I chose to walk to the store, I am sure you only had the best intentions. Luckily for you I was taught to respect other people and so the words "fuck off" were replaced simply by "No, thank you." But thank you for at least thinking of us. 

Finally, I'd like to thank those of you out there, who have been through my ups and downs, and continue to read this blog anyway. Some of you even have met me in person. Some of you even know the bad stuff, the stuff I haven't dared to post on here. Yet you haven't left, and I thank you. 

Saturday, July 4, 2015

#314: Shifting gears......

So last week, I managed to unload more things--specifically, old photographs. Some I scanned in and have on a flash drive; others I were extras. Still more were ones of a former life I am no longer a part of, and so no longer need. These were all packed in a paper grocery bag, and left with the stepmom. 

A trade: a daughter for old memories.

I have made new ones this week. We climbed a mountain, and played in the sprinkler, and went panning for rocks. It was a good week, but all good things must come to an end. Tomorrow I drop off the Megs with her grandmother. And then I go back to work. 

It is time for a shift, also--a shift in planning, a shift in thinking. I am afraid Dent will not like this new shift. It will involve a talk, and he may not approve of the topic. But it must be done. 

This will involve movement--from comfort zones, both his and mine. His, because it involves things we both should have gotten done before now and things I fear will not get done, even though we will have been together 7 years in August. Mine, because I avoid conflict and do not really want to be having a serious, earnest conversation with someone who will more than likely hop in his truck afterward and leave, even though he has no where else to go, and the intent isn't to be rid of him. Rather, it's a cry for help.

Because if he wants the "us" to remain so, we need to step back and see if where he is headed is the same destination as I am. I fear not. 

Needless to say, I am not looking forward to this conversation. 

Stay tuned. 

Tuesday, June 9, 2015

313: nature hike

Ahhhh.. nature and stuff.
 So this morning I decided to wake up around 9 (which is a bit early for me), and go for a little walk. You know, clear my head a little. My car seemed to know where to go, and I soon found myself at South Mountain. I got lucky; there were only a couple of cars and a small school bus (from some private school or other) in the parking lot.

Down by the creek, and down I sat on a rock and just listened to the water for a while. Little puffs of what I took to be fog drifted around the curve from time to time.

There was a man trying to fish, he looked a bit odd with this bright yellow vest on. I wished him luck, and off I went again.
 I apparently missed the springtime iris' this year, but the rosebay "Rhodies" were beginning to break open, which was almost as good. Those things grow pretty big in the wild, this one arched right over the trail.

I can only imagine what it looks like when the bush is in full bloom.

There were lots of birds around in the trees, but none came down to pose for me, so I had to content myself with their singing.
Aren't we a dainty lil thing??

There's this native plant, called "Pipsissewa", that looks about like this, I thought that's what this was at first. But it turns out that doesn't have striped leaves like this does. This is a close cousin, "Spotted Wintergreen". I guess you can chew on the roots and it tastes like wintergreen? I didn't really feel like climbing the fence to find out, and I doubt the park service'd appreciate it anyhow. 

I took several photos of this plant, and this was probably the best that came out. My camera doesn't always pick up small stuff like it's supposed to.  
Up..and up...and more up....

To get to the waterfall, you have two options--you can walk a mile and then climb some pretty steep stairs and rocks (up a couple hundred feet, feels like), or you can walk a little over a mile up a somewhat steep path and then come DOWN the stairs. I chose the second option--still a strenous hike, but my knees handled going down the steps better than trying to come up them.

This was part of the "up" I took--looks almost like a fairy could go passing by any minute. 
I had to stop a couple of times. I hadn't done this in a while, and so I had to catch my breath from time to time. And halfway up my ears popped, which ought to tell you I was getting higher.   
What's that I hear? Water?

Up at the top at last, and you cross a bridge to a seemingly innocent looking drop off...... But you can hear the water roaring as it hits bottom.  
Going.... DOWN...... ;)

..........................Next, it was time to go DOWN a few flights of steep stairs.........


...........................Till you reach the overlook, and find this.

High Shoals Falls spills over about 80 feet or so.  Last year, some idiot died when he got too close to the edge at the top and fell off. You'd think the big red warning signs warning you about the slippery rocks and to stay on the trail would suffice. I guess not.



I even met a couple of new friends. There were several of these "Millies" crawling around. This one was nice enough to stay nibbling on the rotten leaves so I could take a picture of him.

There are also apparently orange colored daddy long legs.

This one waved his little antenne and said "Hi!"
All in all, I think the walk did me some good. I mean, it didn't really solve any of my problems , but it did get me out of the house for a while.
Next up: some of the rocks and stuff.