The Boggart in my Cupboard

If you know the Harry Potter series, you understand the title of this post. If you don't (shame on you!), a boggart is a creature that takes the form of whatever its victims fear most, thus incapacitating the person completely. The counter to it is to think of something funny to turn the boggart into and shout Riddikulus! My boggart would appear something like this:





Screaming at me that, in spite of the city apartment, in spite of the streak, the tatt, the cool clothes, the cocky attitude, the high heels...the truth is I am actually banished to suburbia where I must return to being a housewife, wear sweater sets, loafers and be in bed by eleven o'clock every evening. Turn everything in; you're not allowed to live the cool life you want and have built. Someone in middle management lost a memo and got you confused with another woman and now she wants her life back.

Don't get me wrong. I am not, in any way, criticizing people who live that way. For some, it is the ideal and living my life would make them miserable. I do not wish that on anyone. It just isn't my life. Or, at least, not one I can live for very long. It's just that every now and then, I'm just a little...shocked...that it has all come together so well. That's when I start looking for that boggart.

Riddikulus!




HA!

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Recipe Sunday

Jumping on the recipe bandwagon (and it is still Sunday somewhere plus I haven't been to bed yet so it works for me), I have discovered the recipe for an unexpectedly good Saturday night when one's plans change at the last minute.

1. Start with your favorite rum

2. Add two trays of ice and your favorite daiquiri mix. Blend well.

3. Rent all three of the movies that were made after the mediocre success of the first one.


4. Grab puppies and snuggle down.

Popcorn and amazing, potentially life-changing phone call from a favorite nephew optional. It was truly delightful.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

My Heart

Check him out...


















Remember his face. One of these days, you'll know his name. He just won a national competition, signed a manager and two different agents. Apparently, the boy can act.

Pride is a very insufficient word...

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Love/Hate Relationships

I have love/hate relationships. This, however, is progress from my last post where the love part didn't enter into it at all. The best I could offer then was you-don't-make-me-want-to-beat-you-with-a-brick/hate relationships. So, we'll go with love/hate, be pleased with the progress and thank the Goddess this doesn't happen every month.

1. Tampons. Now, I love tampons. Tampons are the reason I wouldn't want to live in any other time period. But by the end of the week... damn.

2. Butterfly Boy. Since the conversation where he said we could only be friends, he has: told me he checks online nearly every night to look for me; stopped flirting completely; told me how much he loves hearing from me; and hasn't been online in a week without a word of explantion. Dude. The Divine M was right; this guy really is my male counterpart. What do you want to bet I would end up on his list of love/hate relationships, too.

3. The Pobble Mobile. The Pobble Mobile is a rag-top, unairconditioned jeep wrangler. It is hot in the summer, cold in the winter and always noisy. But she's mine, free and clear. She gets me where I need to go, even in bad weather. Still, when it's hot like it is now...I really wish she was a sedan.

4. Talking. God, I hate talking. I don't mean chatting or catching up. I mean talking. As in "We need to talk." As in "Can I talk to you about something?" As in "Why are you so worried about me really?" As in "What happened between us?" As in "Who are you trying to protect, me...or you?" The problem is I also understand how important it is, how vital. My father was a professor of communication most of my life, for God's sake. But damn, whichever end I'm on, I hate talking.

5. My pens. (A quick aside, especially for GoodNightGirl ~ this doesn't apply to my fountain pens!!!) I love my pens. I write a long hand first draft more often than not. They are everywhere ~ my car, my desk, my calendars, every room in my house, tucked behind my ear or into my hair. Hell, I even have one by my tub, just in case. So why the hell can I never find one when I need one?!?

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee, to sip on while you wait for this week to finally be freakin' over!

Hand Over the Brownies and No One Will Get Hurt

I have PMS. Boy howdy, do I. Have. PMS. This means I am fat, ugly, unlovable and totally friendless. This is okay though because it also means I am incapable of loving anyone or anything, pissed at the world, and don't want any friends. It all works out nicely. (And please ~ don't try to counter this right now. Today it will just piss me off; tomorrow it will be irrelevant.)

The Lovely Cats, lucky woman that she is, is coming to visit today. You envy her, don't you? I knew you did.

Here are a handful of things that have pissed me off in the last 12 hours or so:

~ saying one thing and doing another. Don't tell me everything is fine and then change your behavior completely. That means everything is not fine. Grow a pair and tell me. Asshole.

~ negligent parents. I am backing out of my driveway. You are watching me do so. Get your child out of the fucking road.

~ blaming me. Don't whine to me that we haven't seen each other recently when you haven't initiated contact with me in months.

~ poor manners. I could give a shit which fork you use. But how about treating other people with a modicum of respect. She is your server, not your servant. And the occasional "please" or "thank you" won't cause your tongue to jump out of your mouth.

~ dating. God, I hate dating. What's wrong with emotional constipation? What's wrong with having intimacy issues? Who the fuck needs growth anyway? This self-awareness crap is really over-rated.

And on that note, I'm going to go crawl in a hole and growl at people as they pass by.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Reposting The Actors' Studio

A friend is bored and requested a blog post. I'm busy so don't have time to do her justice ~ and I wanted to help out anyway. Therefore! I am reposting my favorite quiz-thingy. This comes from the t.v. show Inside the Actors' Studio. Feel free to consider yourself tagged, leave an answer or two in my comments section, or ignore this completely. :) At least everybody has something new to read now...


1. What is your favorite word? both, followed closely by yes

2. What is your least favorite word? wrong

3. What turns you on, creatively, spiritually or emotionally? intelligence

4. What turns you off? unearned arrogance

5. What is your favorite curse word? fuck and all the derivatives thereof

6. What sound or noise do you love? wind through trees

7. What sound or noise do you hate? any being in pain, emotionally or physically (ok, and that really annoying person who thinks it's okay to start yelling because s/he's drunk at 3 a.m.)

8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt? casting agent

9. What profession would you not like to do? garbage collector or hygiene assistant

10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates? They're over there; just follow the singing.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee (and hopefully make your day go a little faster, too!)

Holy Yearly Recap, Batman!

I just realized that, as of last Thursday, I have been blogging for a year. And an interesting year it's been, too...

July 2005:
~ The Pobble Who Had No Toes made its first official appearance; things were coming to a head with my divorce and my biofamily. It got nastier but made me stronger and gave me relationships I could trust and depend on. And it got me blogging.

August 2005:
~ The Lovely Cats, the Divine M, and the Muppet all made their first appearances here; I clicked on "next blog" because I was bored and was given the blessings of the Mad Gay Housewife (who I still miss and still have linked ~ anybody know anything?), CrackerLilo, the Butler, Hirkaru and, of course, my beloved DonDon009; New Orleans imploded; I traveled to Chicago and the Basement; broke up with the ex; and was luckily enough to recognize a favorite lyric from a favorite show and meet a favorite person

September 2005:
~ Rita hit; I broke my foot; a friend decided the pain was too much and put a gun to his head; I "celebrated" my last wedding anniversary; and sold my books (TTG for that last one ~ September was kinda depressing, huh?)

October 2005:
~ I celebrated my birthday for the whole month; my blog friends rallied around my reality friend who was a victim of a hate crime; I loved living and being in Boston; and sadly made the decision to move to Worcester

November 2005:
~ Back to the Basement and face to face time with Jaded; the Woo move; and a visit with my Dear One

December 2005:
~ Tookie Williams was executed; my clothes started to get too big; I Want a Hippopotomus for Christmas got stuck in my head (aren't you glad I mentioned that one!); and the holidays were delightful

January 2006:
~ Lionel and Daisy came into my life and inadvertantly brought along SpiderGirl, Tai and Wolfgrrrl; my first book showed up on Amazon and I actually finished the damn thing

February 2006:
~ My Heart came for a visit; NYC got record snows; my mother started getting a clue; the SGM was an ass; and I outted myself as a slob and a lover of Brian Dennehy (and have now spent some time mulling over that particular post, I admit it)

March 2006:
~ Once more into the Basement, dear friends, this time with pictures as the Pobble makes her first appearance on her own blog; the Lovely Cats had a birthday; and I started an interesting round robin about the hierarchies and categories of sex

April 2006:
~ I went into an episode but managed to control it; moved dirt; started posting on the porn store; and met Yahoo Billy (ah...Yahoo Billy...)

May 2006:
~ you know, May was an interesting month... not sure I can sum that one up. which doesn't suck if you think about it. :) It did include a visit from my Dear One; the use of the word "cunt"; clean lung x-rays; a great debate on scary; the discovery of Aisha T, Zoom and Krystal; and finding friends in unexpected places

June 2006:
~ I held my book in my hands; I lost the One in VA; I spent over an hour on the phone with Dondon009; the tat, the streak, the t-shirt and the Pobble all showed up online; I made my deadline for the current book; and I started to heal...

And that's the way it was. I have "met" truly, truly amazing people (and if I didn't mention you specifically, please don't be offended! It simply means I don't remember the exact month you showed up in my life/blog!) Thanks for coming along and sticking around for the ride. Shall we do it again? :):):)

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Weekend Ramblings

1. I have a loveseat in my kitchen. The last thing my most recent ex did for me was break my futon. Only he didn't tell me he broke the futon so I didn't realize it until a few months ago when the Muppet and Peaches spent the night ~ and literally rolled out of bed. So, I ordered a loveseat. This one, only in crushed red velvet.

The place I bought it custom makes them so it has taken this long to get it. Last Monday, they called and told me they would be delivering on Tuesday. Oooops. I didn't have time to get the futon out of the spare room. Now, I have a broken futon in my guest room and a loveseat in my kitchen. This will be remedied by the end of the week but for now, Lionel and Daisy are more than a little confused.

2. A couple people have asked about the post where I had the knee-jerk reaction about JMB. If you missed it and need further clarification, it can be found here:

JMB Explanation

3. I'm working out again. What makes this blog-worthy is it also means I am eating again. :) My doctor told me to cut back on the formal workouts, focusing on simply being active in life, until I started eating again. Guess what??? :):):):) My body has that wonderful, achy, well-used feeling that I love so much and miss when I can't work out.

4. I went on a date last week. A real, official, meet-the-guy-for-dinner date. It was very nice. We met in Boston for tapas. No butterflies ~ but a really nice guy. Got caught several blocks from the Pobble Mobile in a major thunderstorm so I was a drowned rat (in a white tank top ~ ooops) by the time I got under cover. Still, that just added to the fun. And we like dating, right? Right.

5. I'm heading to California next month. The latest book is kicking my ass and I need some face to face time with my collaborator. I'll spend a week in Tahoe with my mother, her husband, and my biological sister and her family before heading down to L.A. for five days to visit one of my oldest, dearest friends, blow off steam and have a bit of a vacation before heading back east and getting back to work. While in Tahoe, the local bookstore wants me to come in a sign a bunch of the books; the library wants me to come in a do...something; and the advanced English high school teacher wants me to come talk with her summer school students. This just keeps getting curiouser and curiouser.

6. And speaking of curiouser, Butterfly Boy has offered me a day on his beach while I am in L.A. We're going to meet. It will be nice to meet my friend. And yes, we are friends and I am well aware that we are just friends. I'll keep you posted ~ on all of it.

7. In previous posts, I have mulled over the difference between a female friend and a Girlfriend. Female friends are wonderful, don't get me wrong. But then there are your Girlfriends. I still can't explain what takes a woman from one to the other. I'm not even 100% sure what the difference is ~ or at least know I can't verbalize it. You either understand it instinctively or you don't. I do know that BegoniaGraziella has made that transition. Over the past several months, we have gone from nodding to each other and passing pleasantries, to hanging out some, to definitely being friends, to being Girlfriends. Considering I moved to Worcester with the expectation of keeping my head down, getting my work done, and traveling into Boston (or Philly or Connecticut or wherever) in order to hang with my friends, this is a delightful surprise. I'm a lucky, lucky woman.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Truck? What Truck?

Wolfgrrrl had this test up on her site. As I was bored (and, okay, I love these things; they are my guilty pleasure), I decided to take it. If you don't understand why this is so amazingly funny, delightful and unsurprising, be sure to check out this month's post from July 5th entitled Pobble Songs

What Classic Movie Are You?
personality tests by similarminds.com

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

And God Smiled...

Today is the Divine M's birthday. I will leave it up to her to tell people how old she is. ;)

So, happy birthday, my dearest friend. The world is a better place for your presence in it. I love you.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you a Pepsi.

Adjusting

Earlier tonight, I was on the phone with a person I had met at Nemeria's wedding when my call waiting beeped. I quickly looked at the caller i.d. and saw it was BioSis. I ignored the call and kept talking. When the phone call was over, I checked my messages. The message went something like this (okay, it went exactly like this):

Pobble? Did I lose you? No, I got your machine. ... Oh God. ... I can't talk.

And then silence.

I returned her call. She had been in a dressing room of a department store, had a question and her cell phone died on her. Nothing major, totally innocuous. And she had had little enough signal that she wasn't even sure if she was leaving a message or not.

However, my immediate reaction upon hearing the message was JMB! He's back. Then I remembered he was dead.

Goddess forgive me, I'm glad.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Playing Hooky is Good for the Soul

BegoniaGraziella invited me to be the fourth on a trip to WaterCountry in New Hampshire today. Two of her other friends, who I know and like, had decided we should all take the day off from work and go play. Not having ever been to a water park as an adult, I wasn't sure what to expect. Not being much of a water lover, I wasn't sure what to expect. And knowing that I burn in about three seconds flat, I was afraid I knew exactly what to expect.

I am relaxed in a way I haven't been in a month. I am delightfully tired. And thanks to liberal and regular applications of SPF 45, I am tan, tan, tan. We had a great day. We talked and laughed and took goofy pictures. And the three of them didn't even mind when the introvert of the group needed to simply sit in the shade and read Harry Potter for a bit after having been surrounded by crowds for five hours.

A friend has been telling me for nearly a month now that I needed to take a mental health day. And I've been telling him I couldn't for this reason or that reason or the other reason. Today, I had no choice. I couldn't work; everything was too wet. It simply wasn't an option. I didn't drive so I couldn't cut the day short in order to get back to my computer. Once I had made the decision to go, there was nothing to do but let myself be there in the moment and enjoy it. So that's what I did.

Playing hooky is definitely good for the soul.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

A Final Post on Love

Here's what it looks like, in case you were wondering...







Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

A Drive By Tagging

SO! Zoom didn't really tag me. She didn't really tag anybody. And I don't usually post twice in a day. HOWEVER! A very special person is having a hard day and needs reading material. This seemed like a good way to help him out just a little bit.

Therefore, without further ado because I know you are all just too excited about reading this...

The Pobble's Five Things Tag!

5 Things in my Purse:

Already I'm causing problems. I don't carry a purse. Hm... How about 5 Things in the Little Wallet-Thingy I Do Carry Because I Gotta Keep Shit Somewhere. That works.

5 Things in the Little Wallet-Thingy I Do Carry Because I Gotta Keep Shit Somewhere.

1. Cash. This is dwindling right now to a lone, limp, raggedy single one dollar bill.
2. A silver dollar. My grandfather, Papa, carried it with him. It went from his wallet into mine and has been with me ever since.
3. The Lovely Cats' business card. She's my emergency contact so if I get hit by a bus, they'll call her.
4. Quarters for parking meters. Parking meters no longer accept anything but quarters up here. This is just wrong on many, many levels.
5. Two fortunes from fortune cookies. The last two times Peaches and I have gone out in Boston, it has been to one particular Chinese restaurant. My fortunes read: You have an unusally magnetic personality and You are a bundle of energy, always on the go. I decided I liked them and kept them.

5 Things in my Fridge:

1. Half and half for my coffee. If there is ever a day when this isn't in my fridge, something has gone very badly in my world.
2. Something that looks like it was once take-out or delivery or something. I'm not willing to explore further.
3. Tortillas. These are comfort food for me. With my appetite the way it is recently, it's been nice to have these around.
4. Ghiredelli (sp?) chocolates. Too hot to leave 'em out and, for once in my life, I actually have them left over longer than the usual 17.4 seconds it takes me to go through a bag.
5. Girl beer. I can't stand beer. But I don't always want a mixed drink. Instead, I keep Hard Mike's or Smirnoff around. This is what the Muppet calls "girl beer." Currently, I have both in my fridge. (hmmm...and it's Saturday night...) Lime flavored by chance.

5 Things in my Closet:

1. Um...clothes. Or is that too much of a no-brainer?
2. Boots. Several pair. In fact, had I wanted to, I simply could have listed off five different pair of boots and been done with it. And not come close to listing all of them.
3. My ritual robes. I don't worship skyclad.
4. Hmmm... I'm causing problems again. My closet is really very boring apparently.
5. Carpeting. Re-read #4.

5 Things in the Pobble Mobile:

1. Pens. I have pens everywhere.
2. Change for tolls. Going into Boston, I need bills but heading to the Blackbelts' house, I need change.
3. An EZ-Pass. Again, to visit the Lovely Cats. I drive there; she pays my tolls.
4. Napkins from Dunkin Donuts. I go through their drive thru a lot. Every time, I get napkins. Every time, I put them in the compartment between the front seats. I could paper the world.
5. Three unpaid parking tickets. Yeah, I know...

There you have it. I'm not tagging anyone specifically but feel free to help yourself. Especially if you, like many of us out here, are feeling a bit blog-stuck in the heat of summer.

Those are Pobble Thoughts ~ with a little help from Zoom. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Horoscopes I Can Get Behind

Libra According to Western astrology, I'm a Libra. And very much so: Diplomatic and urbane; Romantic and charming; Easygoing and sociable; Idealistic and peaceable. On the dark side....Indecisive and changeable; Gullible and easily infuenced; Flirtatious and self-indulgent

According to Chinese astrology, I'm a Rooster.
Rooster Just see here: Rooster is very straightforward and rewards others' honesty in kind. If you show your hand, the Rooster will respect you for it. Being noticed and admired is an aphrodisiac for Roosters, and they can go a long time on a few kind words. Roosters also adore being out on the town.

According to West African astrology (my favorite), I'm the Traveler.
The Traveler Infinitely so: The character of those of you born under this sign comprises a marvelous mix of fluctuation and permanence. You have a twofold destiny. Your departure makes your village sad but also very hopeful. So you can expect that your arrival in a new place will raise both fear and admiration. More sentitive than you can bear to be, you must rely on your intuition and go on without illusion. Thus, reconciling your outward and inner travels, you will know how to temper your affections and limit your movements to what is strictly necessary.

HOWEVER! According to BegoniaGraziella's horoscope, I am this:
Courtesean Let the games begin! Libra will try anything once. Twice to make sure they liked it. Three times to be absolutely sure. Libras are mental creatures that believe in living and fulfilling fantasies that they haven't done in real life...which is rare because they have done almost EVERYTHING. They are accident prone, they lose bras, underware, condoms....they also accidentally end up in bed with people. Amazing how THAT works! They are never just ONE sex. They can always feel what the opposite sex feels. Which is why they are rarely clingy, except in rare circumstances when they have been led on, then watch the manipulative side of the scales swing. Who are they really? It depends on what day of the week it is. They believe that life is too short to date ugly people in more ways than one. So if you are being shagged by a Libra, there is a good reason. Whether you are attractive physically, emotionally, mentally or have a fantastic sense of humor, there is always a reason for a Libra to be fucking you. But they HATE vulgarity. They despise feeling like they are on a waiting list to get your attention...worse yet, feeling like they are your groupie. That won't last long, then. But, if you get past all that, expect long luxurious nights talking and playing Strip Tarot or Naked Chess. They are the Graceful Slut...but not slutty and yet accident prone. They are the eternal Courtesan or Concubine. They are sex therapists, porn writers who knows?

And according to Buttrrflyy's horoscope, I am this: Libras gave birth to the term "shopaholic". These folks have every credit card known to man. And while their taste is undeniably impeccable, it can get them in trouble at bankruptcy court. What's really at stake here is a quest for beauty. Enjoying simple but inexpensive pleasures like nature walks and museums can quell the urge to splurge.

shopaholic

Well now. I believe this is what is known as "being cut from whole cloth."

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

A Musical Interkude

Ass-Kicking Rock and Roll ~ After unknown number of trips to visit the Lovely Cats in Connecticut, I finally have found the radio stations to get me there. 104.1 WBCN from Boston gets me to I84 West with Nine Inch Nails, Pearl Jam, Ranconteurs, Chili Peppers...you get the idea. At the 84 exit, I pick up 106.9 out of Hartford. They bring on the metal. Then there's AC/DC and its ilk out of New Haven once I get off 84 from 99.1. The drive just got a hell of a lot more fun.

Muzak ~ As a general rule, I'm not much of an outdoorsy type o'gal. Because of this, I tend not to pay all that close attention to the change of season outside of a religious context. Logistically, summer is simply the time of year I switch out my black and earth-tone velvets and cashmeres for black and earth-tone cottons and linens. And even when I worked outside the home, I tended to take my vacations in autumn. So, imagine my surpise when I stopped at the rest area on the Pike on the way to the Lovely Cats' only to discover the place packed with people on their roadtrips and family vacations. In my rest area. That wasn't the biggest shock, though. The biggest shock was the musak. Apparently, during summertime, the Pike pipes bad, pseudo-calming music into the women's room. They might pipe it into the men's room as well. I don't know; I didn't check. However, walking into the rest area with AFI's Miss Murder in my head and switching to something that would have been too sweet for John Tesch was enough to strip my gears handily.

Girl Pop ~ Okay, so I don't know the official name of this type of music. Work with me. The Princess Kitten informed me that her favorite rock star was Hilary Duff. Being a good aunt, I managed not to heave right there in her lovely lavender room, nor lecture her on the difference between rock and ... whatever it is Hilary sings. Instead, I made slight corrections to her "rock moves" (tuck the thumb in when you are making that sign ~ again, whatever it is ~ with your fingers. Think devil horns, not ASL "I love you.") She is seven. In five more years, I'm introducing her to AC/DC. I'm the outrageous aunt. That's my job.

Hip-Hop ~ The purpose of today's drive was to see the Princess Kitten's dance recital. Wow. Eleven 6, 7 and 8 year olds all onstage, all listening to the same music, all watching the same teacher do the same moves...and not a one of them doing anything remotely like the child next to them. Looking with our hearts, these little ones were fly! Looking with our eyes ~ well, that was still worth the drive, just for different reasons. If you have never seen this, I highly recommend it.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Bye, Bye Butterflies

Butterfly Boy just wants to be friends. Lots of heartbreak from being in the Navy (leave it to me to fall for a former Squid; even when I think they're accountants, there's military in there somewhere)... Long distance relationships that have ended badly...He's too guarded...We're great friends...I am valued...

It's interesting. I have been on the other side of this so often. I realize how carefully he chose his words. How delicately he chose to tread. I appreciate the care he took with me. Having been in his shoes before, I know it's not easy and I recognize when it's done well. He did it as well as it could have been done.

So I think I do have a friend. And, if his words were genuine (as I think ~ hope ~ they were) and not just platitudes, a pretty good one at that. Time will tell.

As the Divine M puts it, at least I can take solace in the fact that I have met my male counterpart in terms of being wary and guarded. Of course, it would have been nice had the person I risked lowering the guards for had been able to risk lowering his for me ~ but I'm selfish that way. :) The fact that he's right only helps so much. Long distance relationships, when neither one is able to relocate, end badly. Hell, my first instinct had been to simply Dear John him instead of asking him if what I was feeling was mututal because of the distance. Let's face it ~ he's scared the hell out of me. So I am proud of both of us for being so courageous. Me for asking and not just running. Him for answering ~ and still not running.

I didn't, however, have the courage to ask if things would be different if we were closer. Some questions, I don't want the answers to.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Love and Other Mushy Stuff

Recently, I have had several occasions to be thinking about, talking about, and mulling over love. Nemeria's wedding. The New York Supreme Court. Online dating. Begonia's relationship. Even JMB's death. What causes people to love? And why are people so nervous about it?

I have always felt that love was a gift. Even if it is not reciprocated ~ to be loved by another person... How special is that? It's a gift I don't think enough people appreciate, understand or value. Perhaps if we did, we could be more gentle with one another.

Our language doesn't account well for love either. I mean ~ "love." What does that mean? Sure, we differentiate between loving and being in love with but how easy is that to confuse? The phrase is still "I love you." I say that to my nephew and I said it to the SGM. I wrote it to appsrus earlier this evening, giggled it to the Divine M and whispered it to the puppies. My first words to Dondon009 (once I knew who he was) were "Oh my God, I love you so much." Yet eventhough I have butterflies for a certain person (Butterfly Boy, as Jaded dubbed him this evening), I am a long way from loving him. Loving is easy for me. Loving isn't. And how the hell are both of those statements truisms? The language fails us.

I love many, many people. Hell, odds are good that if I am in a relationship with you ~ whatever that relationship may be ~ I love you. Whatever it is that you bring to our relationship, if it's worth me keeping you around, it's worth me loving you for. Simplistic, perhaps, yet true for me. At the same time, I have only been in love a small number of times.

Over the years, I have learned to be careful with the phrase "I love you" because it does mean such different things to people. It makes people a little nervous ~ even if they know what I mean. I haven't said it to any of the guys I've met on my site, most of my fellow bloggers or several of my Girlfriends. It's too easily misconstrued, which makes people ... uncomfortable. Frankly, I think it's a shame. I think we need to be able to say "I love you" far more often. I think if we could recognize what a gift love truly is, it would be one we could share more often, be more comfortable expressing, be more comfortable accepting in and from others.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

...and I Cried 'Cause I Felt Nothing.........

I just received an interesting phone call from my biosister.

BioSis was in an incredibly abusive relationship with JMB from the time she was 17 until she was 28. This was not a nice man. Even after the divorce, JMB continued to be cruel. Twice he tried to kidnap My Heart. The harrassment and threats to my family went on for years. I have literally put my life on the line on two or three occasions to stand between this man and my biosister and her child. My biosister is the reason I became a domestic violence counselor in the first place.

Don't misunderstand me ~ we didn't live in fear or let him terrorize us or anything. The women in my family are made of stronger stuff than that. My father and the SGM were brilliant, too. We took appropriate steps and were smart, not victims. Still, there was always an edge to it. The screen door has always been locked. There has always been a lock on the inside of the bathroom door. My Heart lives in Nevada now and is starting an acting career. The question has been "What happens when JMB sees him?" Things like that.

For me, though, it has been more personal. Before BioSis finally left JMB, I'm the one who gave My Heart ~ at age three, mind you ~ his code word for when it was safe to come out of hiding when JMB would be pounding on the door with a gun before the police arrived. I was the one who talked BioSis into leaving. She came to live with me in CO when JMB tried to kidnap My Heart ~ both times. I'm the one who taught My Heart to yell "This man is not my father" if JMB tried to snatch him off the street. It was a hellish time.

Today we learned JMB is dead. He stopped eating about ten days ago and died surrounded by empty tequila bottles. After 22 years, my biosister and my nephew can stop looking over their shoulders. For the first time in My Heart's enitre life he is free.
I called the Lovely Cats. JMB is the only person I've ever known her to be openly rude to and even then it was only once. Being her, she finally said "It's a sad time." But I told her I don't think it is. There were parts of JMB that didn't totally suck. They were destroyed by anger and pain years ago ~ but they existed at one point. And my faith is such that I believe wholeheartedly that those parts are now free of the anger and pain. I believe wholeheartedly he is at rest and has a peace he never knew on earth. So, if my family is safe, I am able to put down this sword, and JMB is finally at peace ~ I can't quite bring myself to say it's sad.
Mind you, I don't know exactly what I'm feeling. Numb. Shocked. ... ... Glad. I don't know.

I know it's over. Finally.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

The Three Greatest Sounds in the World

According to George Bailey (from It's A Wonderful Life for you poor souls who might not know), the three greatest sounds in the world are train whistles, plane engines and anchor chains. This is not a stupid man. See, I'm a traveler. I have been aware of haivng wanderlust since before I knew the word. When I was very young, my mother used to tell me that, had I been born in medieval times, I would have bound my breasts and been a wandering bard. To this day, I like the idea. In West African astrology, my sign is the Traveler. That symbol was my first tattoo and lives on my hip as a gentle reminder against complacency.

One year, I was between the ages of six and eight (we were living in Texas so I know the age range if not the exact age), my grandparents gave me my very own suitcase for Christmas. It was dark blue with hot pink flowers (the 70's people, the 70's) and was the most amazing thing I had ever seen, let alone owned. I literally ached to use it. I even packed it, just in case. My parents refused to check me into a hotel in order to try it out. Not even my promises to sit quietly and not leave the room could persuade them ~ TTG!

Even now, thirty years later, nothing gives me the same thrill as buying the next plane ticket or standing in an airport. But it doesn't have to be a great adventure or even have a destination. Sometimes, it's better when it doesn't.

I love to drive. Put the window down, turn on the music and go. It feeds the wanderlust nicely without me having to drop a ton of cash. At one point, again while we were in Texas, I saw two pictures. One was of the California coast. The other was the New England coast. Immediately, I knew I wanted to drive those roads. I even knew how: the West cried out for a convertible; the East demanded a motorcycle.

To and from Nemeria's wedding, I found another drive I want to take again. Route 15. The Merritt. Hutchinson Parkway. It had several names just in the short time I was on it. The trees canopy overhead. The roads winds. The temperature is a good five to ten degrees lower. Even in my hurried excitement to get to Nemeria and my exhausted readiness to get home, I couldn't help but slow down, breathe it in.

Come autumn, I will make this drive. For no reason but to relish it. I have no idea how long it is, where it goes or if it stays that beautiful. I'll find out. And love every minute of it.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Pobble Songs

The men I have dated have always "given" me songs. This is not uncommon, I realize. My parents' song was Blue Moon. The SGM and I danced to Bryan Adams' Everything I Do at our wedding. For another, it was Crawl by Nil Lara. Still another decided on Queen's Fat Bottomed Girls. (Anyone want to guess why he's an ex?)

What is interesting though isn't that I have had special songs with men. What is interesting is that I have had the exact same special songs with men. Seriously. Even if, as in the above cases, we had songs that were "just ours", every single guy I have ever dated has given me the following five songs:

1. Lady by Styx
2. Ruby Tuesday by The Rolling Stones
3. The Lady in Red by Chris DeBurgh
4. Wonderful Tonight by Eric Clapton
5. Killer Queen by Queen

Dear God, what a flattering list this is. Truly. Have you listened to any of these songs recently? Of course, at one point during a bad time I was crying to my biosister about them, telling her that every man told me these were my songs, how much it hurt and she came up with a fabulous reponse for me. She has suggested that, when a man tells me these are my songs, I reply "You're right. And I'll take them with me when I go!" Hahahahahahahahaha ~ easily amused.

Seriously, though, I am always deeply moved when these songs become the Pobble for a man I care about. And I have faith one of these days, I won't have to take them with me when I go because, well, I'll meet someone and neither one of us will go anywhere. Until then, I'll keep taking them back. :) Of course, the fact that any one of them could be my theme song is helpful as well if I'm going to be keeping them. None of them are my theme song ~ but they could be.

So what is my personal theme song?

Indiana Jones, baby. Every day of the week.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.