Oh Thumbelina, Marry the Mole

I've know Thumbelina a long damn time. She's what one might call an idiot sivant. She's got idea upon ideas, and the means to back them but often times gets lost in the bigger picture and loses sight of those tedious little slices of reality that demand attention. So now she wants to buy a quaint house, make it a home. Put down roots and all that rot. Rot..that seems rather funny now. Yet once again she was so excited to grab hold of the perfect little slice of new found "simple" life that a few of the not so small details slipped past her at an alarming rate.  There I stood helping her understand, things the plumber said and I did my best not to choke. Direct quotes will be impossible as I had a second job of also keeping Thumbelina focused and her glass filled with wine, so there are portions that were nothing more than a horrific background soundtrack. Great Odin and the friends I keep...wonders will never cease.

"....broken sewer lines...."

".....dig up yard......"

".....improper drainage....."

"......soaking and rotting the foundation....."

".....swelling roots filling your pipe...."  She grins, I roll my eyes.

".....totally faulty plumbing system....."

".....wait a minute, Thumbelina? I think I saw you...In that video. I was you, wasn't it!"

".....not sure how much it will cost....."

".....to put it bluntly Thumbelina, you're fuct with a capital T....and nothing like in the video." She rolls her eyes and I grin.

Thank Bacchus for wine and instagram and her massive bank account because this is the worst news she's gotten in like, 6 years when one of her breasts decided to droop. I even cried about it, while she just nodded and drank steadily. Maybe I gave her too much wine.

The plumbers name was Walter. I wish Walter had a speech impediment because that would have softened the ass raping...."

I must be tired or drunk off the fumes of her wine. Because by the gods that seems so funny right now.

Testing the Waters

Jumping back into the dating pool is far less fun than one might think.  I've never been a fan of creating the shiny advertising to entice others into thinking I'm their "one".  It seems, to commercial; and full of false promises for my liking.  Yet in this busy world it seems as though it's both the easiest and most difficult manner with which to seek a partner.  So many of the bio's read like real estate listings.

I like the heat

It has to be said. I saw the ugliest baby today. No word of a lie the child had a face that only a mother could love...Or it that only 'it's' mother could love? Yes I'm well aware of the preferred seating
awaiting me in hell.

Apt

A touch as soft as velvet

A voice as sweet as wine

An everchanging presence

With a stimulating mind

A smile that rivals sunshine

Her laughter light upon the breeze

Her general aura is embracing

But she's apt to change with ease

Lifetime or a moment in time

I love freshly laundered linen, rescue dogs, wildlife, politics, and lilies. Doing things with great passion, heated debates, and good conversation. White & dark chocolate, mangoes, long lasting friendships, Winnie the pooh, writing, and adventures. Longs walks in the middle of nowhere, oceans, and beaches. Setting goals, falling in love, dancing, holding hands, sitting with someone close at sunset on the beach. Walking in the rain, jumping in puddles, skinny dipping, sharing my secrets with a special someone, fears and accomplishments. Kissing, snuggling, mens button down shirts, and the scent of a rich cologne lingering on my pillow. 

I loath okra, dirty dishes, satin sheets, and harmful gossip. Animal abusers, injustice, BSL, and being cold. Stubbing my toe, liars, Donald Trump, and compromising my values. I believe in the value if a kind word, second chances, laughing until you cry, and telling people you love them. Accepting my flaws as readily as my positive qualities. Finding beauty in every situation, if not always in the actions of others. I believe love and connecting with another is a beautiful thing be it for a lifetime or a moment in time. I miss sipping wine with candles lit, just "being" with another person. I believe if you have captured my heart and soul we both have gained. I believe you really never know someone until you look them in the eyes and hear your name on the lips.

Just a Mother?

A Story

I remember a many years ago, when I was picking up the children at school, another mother I knew well, rushed up to me. She was fuming with indignation. "Do you know what you and I are?"
she demanded. Before I could answer, and I didn't really have one handy. She blurted out the reason for her question. It seemed she had just returned from renewing her driver's license at the County Clerk's office. Asked by the woman behind the counter to state her "occupation," she had hesitated,
uncertain how to classify herself. "What I mean is," explained the clerk, "Do you have a job, or are you just a ......?"

"Of course I have a job," snapped my friend. "I'm a mother." "We don't list "mother" as an occupation..."housewife" covers it," said the clerk emphatically.

I forgot all about her story until one day I found myself in the same situation, this time at our own Town Hall. The Clerk was obviously a career woman, poised, efficient, and possessed of a high-sounding title, like "Official Interrogator" or "Town Registrar." "And what is your occupation?"
she probed.

What made me say it, I do not know. The words simply popped out. "I'm....a Research Associate
in the field of Child Development and Human Relations." The clerk paused, ball-point pen frozen in mid-air, and looked up as though she had not heard right. I repeated the title slowly, emphasizing the most significant words. Then I stared with wonder as my pompous pronouncement was written in bold, black ink on the official questionnaire.

"Might I ask," said the clerk with new interest, "just what you do in your field?" Cooly, without any trace of fluster in my voice, I heard myself reply, "I have a continuing program of research (what mother doesn't) in the laboratory and in the field (normally I would have said indoors and out).
I'm working for my Masters (the whole darned family) and already have three credits (all healthy).
Of course,the job is one of the most demanding in the humanities (any mother care to disagree?)
and I often work 14 hours a day (24 is more like it). But the job is more challenging than most run-of-the-mill careers and the rewards are in satisfaction rather than just money."

There was an increasing note of respect in the clerk's voice as she completed the form, stood up, and personally ushered me to the door.

As I drove into our driveway buoyed up by my glamorous new career, I was greeted by my lab assistants---age 7 and 5. And upstairs, I could hear our new experimental model (six months)
in the child-development program, testing out a new vocal pattern. I felt triumphant. I had scored a beat on bureaucracy. And I had gone down on the official records as someone more distinguished
and indispensable to mankind than "just another......"

Home...what a glorious career. Especially when there's a title on the door.

Come Again?

When your lover after much silent thought turns to you and asks, "what excites you?" The response they are looking for is not..."I don't know."

The simple, possibly honest, albeit foolish answer is sure to be quickly drown out by the sounds of metal crunching and brakes screeching inside of your lovers brain. You have just given the equivalent and silent answer of, "well it isn't you." Should this question follow your last few hours of looking at images of women in various states of undress, none of which bare the slightest resemblance to your lover...Well you've really put your foot in it this time.

Head for the hills my friend. This is not going to end well.