Giving Thanks

On Thanksgiving Day, I find myself thinking about my family, both the ones I'm related to, and the ones I'm not. I'm a lucky, blessed woman.

Today, I've been in touch with a woman I've known for 35 years. Thirty-five years. And another I've known for thirty.

I've chatted with two friends who had cancer scares this year ~ one turned out benign, the other didn't, but her tumor was the best possible of the bad diagnoses. But they are both right here, to be chatted with.

My Heart is spending his first holiday with his new family ~ Listener's folks. That dawned on me today. We make a big deal out of the fact that she is now a part of our family, but that means that he is part of hers, as well. 

Listener. She is such a blessing to me, already. What an amazing young woman. I can't wait to get to know her better, and watch her grow.

My mom. For most of my life, our relationship has been...complex. It's leveled out over the last 7 or 8, but when I remember growing up ~ complex. Except for Thanksgivings. My memories of my mother on Thanksgiving aren't the least bit complex, or complicated, or convoluted. They are simply wonderful. Talking. Planning. Cooking, Cleaning. Sharing. Teaching. Learning. Hanging out at the kitchen sink, the kitchen counter, the kitchen table... And always joyous.

Crow, BIL, and the Little Ones. We are more a part of their lives right now than ever before ~ and I love it.

AppsRUs, who is present at every holiday meal ~ and several others ~ now, thanks to my little pot. Dr. B., Lori, M-O-M, the Divine M...

The list goes on and on, too many to list, too many to even begin to enumerate, until I end where I should have begun, with Lithus. My dear Lithus.

Money is great. I've had it, and I haven't had it, and I'll take having it any time. Living in a cool city is great, but it's not the be-all, end-all. But the people in my life? They are my blessings. They are my thanks giving.

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

Cutting the Cord

Part of the life we live is never knowing what day it is. Lithus flies every day he's on. No days off. No Friday excitement. Same with me. I write until I've met my week's deadlines. Could be every day. Could be through Wednesday. Regardless, there is no set day off. Without touchstones, it's easy to forget where one is in the week.

We also lose track of what time zone we're in. And have little, if any, say over what television stations we have available to us when we're on the road. Just this past season, I had watched every single episode of Face Off on SyFy. The night of the season finale, we ended up in a hotel that didn't offer the channel.

In light of all this, we stream almost all of our television. Netflix. Amazon. Even the stations' websites. We just rarely watch television in real time. So, we made the decision to get rid of cable.

When Lithus was talking to the cable guy, we could keep basic cable, keep our internet speed, and have access to in the moment weather, news, and emergencies. And, for a whole hell of a lot less money. You know what? We live in hurricane country. Immediate, local weather is worth keeping basic cable for a hell of a lot less money.

We unplugged the cable box, gathered all the stuff, and returned it all to the cable company. That night, we came home, swallowed hard, and reprogrammed the television to see what channels we got now.

Every. Single. One we had. Okay, no music stations. But we hadn't used those since we started using Spotify a couple months ago. ABC, CNN, CBS, NBC. SyFy. Food Network. HGTV. The list goes on. Every station we watch. Every station we've had.

We've been paying all that much more money for the cable box and remote control. *thunk*

I got nothing.

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

Why I March

Yes, Lithus and I attended the New Orleans rally in solidarity with Ferguson and in memory of Michael Brown tonight. We didn't do it for cookies. Or because we're "good" white folks. We did it because...

* An injustice was done. When Michael Brown was murdered. And again when Darren Wilson wasn't even indicted for that murder. And almost every night in between when the people doing the most harm were the people behind the badges and the riot gear.

* A family has lost their child. I cannot imagine. If it had been one of mine... I cannot imagine. And here's the thing: I don't have to. Mine are white. Mine live in the "good" neighborhoods. No cop is going to think mine are "demons" and kill them.

* Black lives matter. Yes, we chanted it as we marched down Canal. But I believe it. I know it. And, even if I didn't, it's still true. My belief in the value of black lives doesn't impact that value at all.

* The 1st Amendment must matter as much as the 2nd. But it can only matter if we make use of it. Otherwise, it's just words on the paper.

Do I march? Yes. You're damn right I do. And I scream myself hoarse, and I lead with NO JUSTICE to be answered NO PEACE when the leader gets hoarse and drops out herself. And yes, I hope I make a difference. To someone. Somewhere.

But I had nothing on the line tonight. And at the end of the night, I got to walk home, unmolested, without being followed by any of the police cars that followed us. So the one chant I wouldn't join was I AM ... MIKE BROWN. Because I'm not. And never will be.

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

Dear Grand Jury....

...You got it wrong. Yes, I know you are the only ones who saw the evidence. Yes, I know that you have more information than I do. All of that is true. What else is true is that you got it wrong.

Dear Fellow White People ~ We will reap what we've sown. Sooner or later, we're going to be treated with the same respect and care with which we've treated others.

That's all I've got for tonight.

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

Lithus

Happy birthday, my dear Lithus. It's been a good year.

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

For Listener

What is it about texting about presents? I promise I'm not taking back your giraffe. You only wanted suggestions for me. Huh...





 


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

Yes, I'm Patriotic

A blogger friend of mine was talking about a shirt he wears, and passes out to other veterans, that reads "Freedom Isn't Free: I Paid for It." He mentioned the store he usually orders them from, as well.

Now, I love this motto. I believe in this motto. Lithus and I have been trying to think of a small gift for M-O-M. This shirt is perfect. YAY!

So, I went to the website, and found the shirt. I looked around the site. Lots of 2nd Amendment (right to bear arms) stuff. Lots of Unapologetically American stuff. And while I may roll my eyes at the vehement nature, I can still respect it. After all, truth is, I, too, am unapologetically American. God, I do love my country.

Then I made a mistake. I read their marketing copy. They have a coexist bumper sticker, only instead of looking like this:

Theirs looks like this:

Ummm...okay. Let's say that what they are saying is that people who don't like weapons and people who do need to coexist. I recognize I'm reaching here, but I do try to give people the benefit of the doubt. But then I read this on their website:

Tired of seeing all the redundant COEXIST, Free Tibet, and Save the Whales stickers that do-nothing hipsters and hippies sport on their cars, we’ve decided to strike back with a variety of bumper stickers and window decals that will show the public that you’re a doer—not a talker. 

And now I have a problem. See, you can't point to the 2nd amendment, and ignore the 1st. Since there is no national religion, and there cannot be a national religion, we do indeed all have to coexist. And if you are going to claim to be a patriotic American, I shouldn't have to point you to the Constitution and remind you of the whole thing.

At this point, I could turn this into a political rant about how I can be called A LOT of things, and hippie is nowhere on that list. Nor is "do-nothing." And while "talker" certainly is, so the fuck is "doer." However, I'm now going to take a deep breath and not rant.

Instead, I found the same shirt, from a company that doesn't insult me, or my patriotism. And I will give that company my money ~ and my friend the shirt he so richly deserves.

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

New Orleans Didn't Help

Just the other day, and to much support I might add, I wrote about trying to wait until after Thanksgiving to celebrate Christmas. It was much easier before tonight.

Tonight was the Jackson Square tree lighting. Now, admittedly, it wasn't as early as last year, when it was on November 16th ~ but it's still damn early. And I still went, because I still can't resist a tree lighting. As I realized last year, there's enough real stuff to get outraged about (I'm holding my breath over Ferguson, even as I write this). I'm not going to deny myself something as harmless as a Christmas tree lighting.

I still won't decorate, or play carols, or do anything Christmas-y here at home, but the music and colors were lovely.

Creepy gingerbread man, keeping Halloween alive

Across the street

Before...

After!

The brass band was wonderful. The second-line parade was wonderful. It was all wonderful (and a little creepy, but even that was wonderful).

Christmas isn't here ~ but it's coming.

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

It's Not Supposed to Work Like This

I have long been a proponent of the idea that hate hurts exactly one person ~ the hater. The hated goes merrily about their business, while the hater gets eaten up inside, spending far too much energy on hate. I still believe this, wholeheartedly. You know what else I believe, and has been confirmed recently? That there is an exception to every rule. As stunned as I am to admit this, I have found my exception to the hate rule.

There's a person in my life who I hate. It's that simple. I have no control over this person's presence in my life. They are there and there's nothing I can do about this fact. And I have spent countless hours trying not to hate them.

Just recently, I decided to try something. I decided to embrace the hate. The distrust. The absolute knowledge that this person will do something loathsome again. Stunned, shocked, amazed, and even slightly embarrassed. It has worked wonders.

When this person does something hateful, I now simply think "that's why I hate them" and move on. Gone are the hours trying to understand. The hours trying to convince myself that surely this time will be different. The guilt of not being a good enough person to not hate them. The pain when they do something hateful and this time wasn't different.

Not only have I accepted who they are, but I have accepted who I am in response. Before, I dwelt a lot on not hating them. Now, I don't dwell at all on hating them. Before, I dreaded every text, email, and phone call. Now, I hardly notice them. They will be who they are and I will hate them for it, and we'll all move on. So much less angst, anxiety, and stress.

It's an odd place for me to be. I'm someone who loves, easily and readily and with very few conditions. I believe in forgiveness, acceptance, and the ability to let others live their lives without judgement. And now...there's this. Honestly, I'm not sure how I feel about it. For now, though, it is how it is and I'll ride the wave.

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

Following Up

Back in March, I asked you, dear Pobble Thought readers, to send a postcard to a sailor who was deployed and missing the birth of his first child, his son. All these months later, he is finally ~ finally ~ home. And has met his son.

posted with permission

That picture's enough. Even I know when not to add words.

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

Rent the Car Day

Lithus and I decided not to get a car when we moved to NOLA. Over the last four years, we have realized that was a major misstep. The public transportation system is...not good. The cabbies are...not good. I could rant. I have ranted. This isn't a rant.

After spending almost $100 in cab fare to get places like the mall and Target when we first moved here, we realized we really couldn't keep doing that. So, somewhere along the line, we started renting a car for the day occasionally. And then it dawned on me that renting a Uhaul is even less! Now, every couple of months, we rent a UHaul and run errands. It has become one of my favorite things to do.

Yes, we go ordinary places ~ Target, Winn Dixie, Penney's ~ but even ordinary places are fun when you can't get there often. We stop for lunch and/or dinner somewhere we don't usually have easy access to. I get a Dunkin' Donuts coffee from the one Dunkins in the area, that's not at the airport.

I get to make lists, and organize. Lithus gets to navigate, and file flight plans. We spend the day laughing and talking and enjoying ourselves and each other.

Today, was Rent The Car Day. The last of the holiday shopping. A big grocery shop. I even bought a gown and he bought a tux for New Year's Eve. And yes, that means holy shit, I am finally married to a man who owns a tux. This was a dream from when I was a kid. And here we are. It's not his first tux ~ but it's my first husband's tux, so it works. Plus, he kinda looks like an international man of mystery, which works, too.

It's not a huge thing, or some great event. It's just a really fun day, with my favorite person. Which, I guess, makes it a huge thing and some great event.

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

I Am Trying

As I have written here before, I have always been adamant about keeping Christmas from coming until after Thanksgiving. In light of that, our door decoration is autumnal, not Christmasy. See?

And yet we seem to be the only ones trying to keep the two separate. 

The Jackson Square tree lighting is on November 20th. The Canal Street lighting is the 25th. The tree and Canal Street decorations are already up, even though they are waiting until the 25th to light any of them. Even the Roosevelt Hotel's gift shop has been decked out in Christmas finery ~ since the beginning of October.

In time, I may give in. I may start decorating and listening and going full speed ahead somewhere early November. For now, though, this year at least, I am trying.

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

Not Sure That's the Word I Would Have Chosen

I was chatting with Starbuck the other day and, at one point (and appropriate to the conversation, not crazily out of thin air) she announced I REFUSE TO BE CUTE!

Years ago, Nemeria was in a play and she wrote me about her character: I'm going for aloofly evil, but knowing me, it's probably coming off as cute.

My own self-identity starts with "I'm a Muppet..." Baby sloths are the only things cuter than Muppets.

*deep deep sigh*

Mind you, all three of us can be other things. Sexy. Mysterious. Sophisticated. Alluring. Bad ass. And yes, even aloofly evil if the occasion calls for it. But there's no denying the cute is always there, lurking, waiting to come back out.

Back when I lived in Worcester, I had a collection of floor length...boudoir gowns...I suppose you could call them. Satiny, flowing things that certainly aren't pajamas. They puddled around my feet, and trailed out behind me when I walked. They weren't cute. For various reasons, I don't have many (any?) of them any longer. 

Knowing I missed them, Lithus bought me a gown and robe for my birthday this year. It is breathtaking. My favorite ever, and not just because he got it for me. It's just that beautiful, that flowing, that puddly, that elegant.

The other night, I had gotten out of my bath and slipped into it, He stopped me and said "you know what's cute about this gown?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Absolutely nothing..."

He continued on, a little hesitant. "This little bow right here..."

And dammit, he was right. It's a cute little bow. HOWEVER! We decided it isn't "cute." It's delightfully unexpected for the gown. A touch of whimsy in an otherwise sophisticated setting. My Lithus is a smart man.

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

Someone Didn't Think This Through

Lithus had to call our cable company today. He dialed the number - 800-123-4567 (not the real number) - and heard "LOTS of hot women are just waiting to talk to you! For English, press 1. For Spanish, press 2."

He even put it on speaker for me to hear.This couldn't be the cable company, could it? He hung up and checked the number. 123-4567. Dayum.

Oh...wait.

The cable company is 866-123-4567. The sex line is 800-123-4567. I can't help but wonder how many people have made this same mistake...

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

I'm Quirky

As you know, I've been sick this week. However, today was the hump day. It's the day I woke up feeling human. Still low on energy, and not well, but definitely better. However, today ~ the day I really start feeling better ~ is the day I also start running a fever. It's low-grade, but it's there.

Really, Self? Really? Today?

Lithus informs me that I will be back to feeling shitty tomorrow. I'm refusing to accept that as a possibility. I'm kind of a sucky patient, I admit. But today was hump day, dammit, so tomorrow...Tomorrow I will feel even better.

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

It All Counts

The other day, we were watching the show Haven and I said to Lithus that I'd forgotten how much I love the show. He laughed and said how it wouldn't have anything to do with the New England imagery. Pshaw.

Only, I am also now watching a show called Salem, which didn't interest me in the least until recently.

And at the drug store today, we got to chatting with a woman from Connecticut, and I nearly hugged her.

It's Autumn, and I'm missing home. From Connecticut to Maine, it's all New England.




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

Veterans' Day

To M-O-M
To Brian
To Zack
To Papa
To David
To So and So
To the guys of the 19th, including the SGM,

You kept, and keep, me safe. You stand on the wall, so that I don't have to. I don't know what you've seen. I don't need to know ~ let's be honest, I probably don't want to know. But I know you, and I'm honored to say so.

Thanks.

Love ~

~ The Boston Pobble

Humph

ETA: With apologies to the people who were here when the video link wasn't working. It is now. 


So, technically, I am sick. Although part of me is refusing to acknowledge that fact. I have plans today, dammit! Still, in a passing nod to the fact that I don't feel ... my best ... I leave you with Neil deGrasse Tyson. Because who doesn't feel better when Neil deGrasse Tyson's in the room?




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

Keep Your Fingers Crossed

Lithus has been sick. Not horribly so. Just enough to make him feel lousy and sleep a lot. When we finished our Sunday night movie earlier tonight, I realized ~ my throat is scratchy.

Nooooo..... You keep your fingers crossed; I'll keep you posted.

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

Learn Something New Everyday

I was 31 the first time I painted my toenails. My friend, Foxy, did them for me. It was weird to have electric pool blue toes, but I loved it and never looked back. Which means I have been doing my toes for approximately 15 years now.

For the first time today, when it came time to take off my old polish, instead of huffing and puffing and trying to reach my toes, I simply lifted a foot up on the edge of the tub.

Fifteen years and I had no idea it could be so easy.

At least I learned it, right?

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

Eat Your Veggies

I had an interesting conversation about broccoli today. Why don't more of us consider vegetables comfort food? One of my favorite foods on the entire planet is a canned green bean. Ask me the last time I had a canned green bean. I have no clue.

Admittedly, a canned green bean isn't the healthiest option out there, but when compared to cheese fondue and crunchy bread, canned green beans are gold. Ask me the last time I had cheese fondue and crunchy bread. Last weekend. You see my point?

In fairness, I do love vegetables. Even back when I was a bachelor, living in Worcester, and refused to cook anything more intensive than spaghetti and preferred my meals to come from a microwave, I still ate my veggies. Sometimes they were part of the frozen dinner I had just nuked. Usually, they were out of a glass of V8. Now that Lithus is cooking, they tend to be fresher, actually bought from a produce section, and include the occasional seasoning. If I go a whole day without something green and leafy - or at least green and cruciferous - I know it. I feel it. And the next day, I load up.

And yet...vegetables are rarely considered comfort food. We don't treat ourselves with salad. We don't feed our fears, insecurities, and pains with vegetables. We rarely settle down after a long, hard week, excited to eat vegetables. I know vegetarians who don't vegetables every day.

Still, when you reach for the broccoli instead of the cheesy, melty, greasy goodness, and not because you had to, but because you want to...sometimes that's comforting. Confusing, sure, but maybe a little comforting, too.

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

Why I Vote

Starbuck sent me this. It sums it up quite nicely.

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

Who Is Lena Dunham?

Apparently, I have fallen out of touch. I admit, I have at least heard of the woman before, but can't think of where or why. She does...something...with television. I think. She is also, so I'm told, a feminist icon, and a left-winger. Cool. Still don't know her.

But as of this week, the internet is abuzz. She has published a book. In it, she refers to herself as performing the same actions as "basically any sexual predator" on her little sister.

What The Fuck.

So, I went and did my own research. Sure enough, a right-wing website posted a blog article on how she sexually molested her little sister. And she has fired back, with a self-described "rage spiral" on twitter. Demands for a retraction. And threats of a lawsuit.

Here's my problem with the whole thing ~ 

First, let's be clear, I have no idea if this constituted sexual molestation or not. I certainly found myself uncomfortable and unamused reading this "humorous" excerpt from her book. But more than my discomfort, her sister has weighed in and said it wasn't molestation, it was kids being kids. You know what, I get that, too.

So what's the problem? The problem is cute, white liberal girls have to face the consequences of their words, just like everyone else. If you actually and for real call yourself a sexual predator, you don't get to then turn around and become oh so offended when people call you out for being a sexual predator. Cute, white, liberal girls don't get to flounce off angry when people don't find them funny. And cute, white, liberal girls certainly don't get to sue right wing publications for quoting the cute white liberal girl correctly and in context.

We aren't exempt, my fellow cute, white, liberal girls/women. We have to be responsible for our own words, thoughts, and actions. We don't get to demand to be taken seriously and then throw a temper tantrum when we are, just not how we meant.

Again, I don't know if Lena Dunham is a sexual predator or not. I'm inclined to say not, but before this week, I had hardly registered her on my radar, so I don't know. I do know she is currently engaging in some White Women Tears kind of shit. Which automatically keeps her from being any feminist icon of mine.

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

I Voted!

I am a passionate voter. In presidential years, I'm rabid. In midterm years, I'm passionate. So, this morning, Lithus and I got up, got showered, and headed to my voting place.

There was a bit of a line, but not much of one. The system worked well for the 2 dozen or so of us. If they ended up with a crazy long line once people got off work, I could see it being a bit miserable. But early in the day? It worked.

There was a very old man in a wheelchair. There were a couple kids who looked like this was probably their first election. It definitely wasn't their third. We all helped each other, and the people running the polling place, and came together in a picture perfect form of what democracy can be.

Here's the thing ~ Louisiana is a state that is being watched closely. Many pundits are predicting a runoff. Have I loved Mary Landrieu as a senator? Honestly, no. But is she better than her opponent? In so many ways. And yet so many people from Louisiana are expected to vote against their best interests that we could be facing a runoff.

You damn well better believe I'll vote then, too. In a picture perfect form of what democracy can be.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee (that your Canadian partner buys for you while you stand in line to vote).

Birthday Thoughts

My birthday was a month ago. 45. Lithus wanted to do something big, because the 5 year birthdays are big deals. But we are saving money for some other things right now, and, while 45 isn't small, it also isn't as important as 40 or 50. So, I reminded him he had been a part of doing something BIG for 40; we agreed that he would do something BIG for 50. And we'd let 45 be whatever 45 was going to be. 

And then we realized ~ we were going to be with my family for my birthday. Not near my birthday. Or around my birthday. On October 3rd. My actual and for real birthday. 

Crow made my favorites in her repertoire ~ bean burritos, roasted root veggies, and chocolate souffle. No, there was no flavor profile. At 45, I don't need to prove I can create a menu to anyone. There were presents. And singing. After Grasshopper and the Hatchling went to bed, my Heart and Listener took Lithus and me out to their favorite lounge, and then a fun Irish pub.

Okay, maybe it wasn't BIG ~ but it wasn't small, either. Begin as you plan to end. This year should be lovely and filled with happiness.

And a happy birthday to Cam Pike. Love and miss you, my friend.

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

From Listener

Listener has a Tumblr. I won't link it here, because it's not mine to do so. However, I'm addicted. As we go into the holiday season, I couldn't help but steal this...

nature revering witches be like:

and tehcnowitches looking over like:

Those are amused, city witch, Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

(Note ~ I have no idea what happened with the formatting; I'm sure it has something to do with stealing from Tumblr...)

A Fascinating Thing

Or maybe it's just fascinating to me, but I'm fascinated by strange things. Back when I was writing novels, I stopped reading fiction, almost completely. It's been almost 4 years since my last one went live, and I'm just now getting back into reading books.

Guess what's happening now that I write blogs for a living? Yeah... So, I apologize for the dust that has accumulated over here at Pobble Thoughts. I shall endeavour to keep it a bit busier around here.

Along those lines....

We ended up, completely unexpectedly and at the last moment, home for Halloween and Samhain. We got back on Wednesday in time to discover the Krewe of Boo parade was rolling Thursday night. YAY! It was such fun. Sadly, none of my pictures turned out well this year, but that doesn't mean there aren't stories. (ETA: And it doesn't mean I didn't post a few of them anyway over at Stilettos...)

We had kids on either side of us. When the float with the balloon animals went by, and the very little guy next to Lithus couldn't quite reach before the float moved on, Lithus chased the float, got the balloon dog, and delivered it to its owner. When the little girl next to me was never quite faster than her brothers to get to the beads, I made sure she had some. And yes, when the drunken That Girl tourists tried to squeeze in ~ and squeeze the kids out ~ I made sure she understood that's not how we do it down here. The Krewe of Boo ain't Mardi Gras, people.

Then for Samhain last night, we had our traditional feast, honored our dead, and went out to enjoy our first Halloween in New Orleans. It was lovely from a religious standpoint, because the last 3 years, we've been in very religiously conservative places (Idaho, Montana, and Utah) so I have barely whispered hi to my dad, let alone gone into a full ritual. To be able to do so again was amazing.

But the celebration of Halloween in New Orleans is not to be underestimated, either, Holy cow. Not quite Mardi Gras ~ but close. Far closer than I would have expected.

Surprise ~ I dressed like a witch. :)

It was good night. Hope yours was as well. Tell me about it...

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

A Reminder...

...especially for this time of year (but really any time):

If you post pictures of spiders ~ live ones, dead ones, plastic ones, decorative ones, puppy-sized ones, any fucking ones ~ on your Facebook page, your tumblr, your blog, your reddit thread, anywhere you can see the damn thing, then you do not get to claim to be arachnophobic. 

Also, you don't get to be mad at me if I stop coming by your facebook page, your tumblr, your blog, your reddit thread, anywhere I can see the damn thing.

*whimper*

Those are please-dear-god-just-get-me-to-November-1st Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

You Know, I'm Really Not

You know when people put things off until the very last minute and then say ~ always with a touch of braggadocio, or at least smugness, it seems to me ~ oh, I'm best under pressure. Of course you know it. Who knows, you may even be one of those people. If truth be told, I used to be one of those people. Or, at least I used to be one of those people who said it.

And I can perform under pressure. I can, indeed, make the shot when I have to. Quite well. In fact, I learned a long time ago it is really hard to tell the difference between the work I deliver when I've had all the time in the world and the work I deliver when I've been down to the wire and had to do it rightnowrightnowrightnow. As a college student, this wasn't necessarily a good thing.

This week, I got swamped at work. It was entirely my fault. BIL was in town last week and I had had the foresight to front load that week, so I had the days here was in town completely off. Five days, no work. YAY!

Then Monday, we spent the day catching up on stuff: cleaning, laundry, dishes, groceries. All those things you must deal with after you didn't do a damn thing but enjoy your company for 4 days. Then Tuesday, about 4:00 pm, I realized something ~

I hadn't written a single word all week. So I forced myself to write an article. Wednesday, about 1:00, a migraine decided I should nap the rest of the afternoon. Who am I to argue with a migraine? By 7, I was better physically, but an emotional wreck. Forced myself to write another article.

As of about 20 minutes ago, I just turned in today's 2 articles. It's taken almost all week, but I am back on track with my work for this week. Finally. Wow, do I feel better.

Can I work under pressure? Of course. Can you tell it by the quality of my work? Nope. Not even I can, and I'm looking for it. But am I at my best? You know...

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

Ironing

I like to iron. That may be an overstatement. I like wearing clothes that wrinkle and I like wearing them not wrinkled. But I also find the instant gratification of ironing nice. So, I iron.

Officially, I learned to iron the 7th or 8th grade, when I took home ec. But a woman named Gail taught me how to iron in real life. You know, when you don't have 3 different size ironing boards with 4 different pegs to make sure each collar and cuff and sleeve and leg is pressed just so. Instead you've got one ironing board (if you're lucky and aren't stretched out on the floor), one iron, and 15 minutes to get out the door.

Since Gail's tutelage, I have gotten good at ironing and yes, I suppose, I do enjoy it. And the other day, we were at the family's and I needed to iron my linen pants. The Hatchling was doing her homework. I was set up with the iron. She was amazed.

What was I doing? Why was I doing it? Was it difficult? Why didn't her mom iron? I answered them all as simply as I could (ironing, because my pants were wrinkled, not really but it did take practice, because her mom doesn't wear clothes that wrinkle as badly). It was a little surprising that I was the one she was seeing do this because her mom is way more domestic than I can ever dream of being. But, at the same time, ironing isn't her thing.

To say I taught the Hatchling how to iron is a huge overstatement. But I did talk her through what I was doing, and why I was doing it. And I passed along a little bit of information that maybe she'll use and remember in 30 years, the same way I remember that day at Gail's house.

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

Dear Fellow White People - Screaming Liberal Post # 9

My fellow white people ~ Do you know that protests in Ferguson are even still going on????? Because they are!!! And you should know this!!! Or have you moved on to the next thing that "has to do with me (read: white people)"??????? Ferguson does have to do with you! You should fucking care!!! 

My fellow white people ~ You know what you shouldn't do? You shouldn't be killing black people!!!!! What The Fuck Are You Doing????? Are You Fucking Kidding Me????? Stop Shooting Black People!!!! Stop excusing it when other white people do!!!! Why does anyone even need to tell you this?????? 

My fellow white people ~ We know what happened! Stop pretending like we don't. The fact that the grand jury has been given until next year to decide whether or not to indict is nauseating. We have eye-fucking-witnesses. We know what fucking happened. Two young black men were walking down the street and now one of them is dead because a white cop shot him. There could be no threat that made this an option.

My fellow white people ~ Stop Getting Your Fucking Information From Other White People! Yes! Including me! Why does my outrage, or my version, or my words, carry more weight? Other white people are telling you about the looters in Missouri. They aren't telling you about the vastly more numerous peaceful protesters who are being met with tear gas and riot gear. Read. Listen. Learn. From people who aren't filtering it through your own damn filters. My voice shouldn't matter more than Jamelle Bouie, Heben Nigatu (or brilliantly and must-readly here), Monica Roberts,  or Denny Upkins' voices do. Read The Root, occasionally. At the very least, click on Huffington Post Black Voices. Do your own searching, and find your own sources.

My fellow white people ~ Get Over Yourselves. For once in your lives, consider someone else "the norm" or "most important." Let go of any sense of superiority based on flesh tone. We, after all, are the ones killing black children as they walk down the street, ask for help, and go home from the store. What's so fucking superior about that?

My fellow white people ~ Don't You DARE ask me why I'm still writing about this/angry about this/making you think about this "after all this time." Don't fucking dare.

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

Meeting Friends

A weird thing happens in this day and age ~ one can become real, vital, genuine friends with people one has never met. Through blogging, and through email. But also through text message and the ubiquitous phone that instead of being stuck on our wall, where we may or may not be for months at a time, is in our pocket at all times.

When we drove into Lori's driveway, I said to Lithus "these people already consider you their friend; you don't have to feel like you're meeting them for the first time." My statement completely disregarded the fact that I, too, was technically meeting them for the first time. 

The shoe was on the other foot last night. We went over to another friend's house, this time one of Lithus' friends. He and the man in the couple have been colleagues for years, became friends about 5 years ago, and have grown into confidants thanks to text messages and being able to stay in touch, even when they are hundreds, or sometimes, thousands of miles away from their homes. As we drove into their driveway, I realized, these people already know me. They consider me a friend. They care about me. They've seen me through everything they've seen Lithus through, and vice versa. 

For every time this day and age can break our hearts, there are a dozen other times it heals them. It's nice to meet my friends.

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

I'm Working On It

Given the last post, I know I owe you a post on the wedding. It was WONDERFUL. Lori is breathtaking. I will write on it. But the pictures haven't gone from my phone to my computer yet. She hasn't even seen them yet. Plus, I want to write about it. Not just sketch it out. Which takes time and thought and energy. So I'm working on it.

Instead, we'll break the seal and get back to blogging with some blathering.

It's Christmas list time here at Casa de Pobble. Also, my birthday is Friday, so Lithus has asked for suggestions from me. Here's the thing ~ I have a thing about linens. I adore linens. Bed sheets. Bath sheets. Table cloths. Napkins. Kitchen towels. Bed sheets.

And! Both of my kids and their respective partners, have moved into new homes. My Heart and the Listener have gotten engaged, so they have made a serious commitment to building a home together. The Grasshopper is becoming a teenager, and his tastes are changing. The Hatchling is becoming a tween and her tastes are changing.

WE SHOULD GET EVERYONE LINENS FOR CHRISTMAS!!!!!!!

Luckily, Lithus keeps me reigned in. Apparently, not everyone goes apoplectic over new linens under their tree or as a birthday present. I don't get it, but, yeah...linens are frequently considered mundane. Who knew?

Those are 800 thread count Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee. 

She's Getting MARRIED!!!!

Guess where I am off to today? Nope, not a trip for Lithus' work. Not travel to see my family out west, or his family in Canada. Not even over to New England.

I am going to see Lori get married. Lori. My friend. Is getting married.

Here's the other part ~ we have never met. Not once. So, okay, lots of bloggers don't meet for a long time. It's part of the thing we do. Well....no. Or yes, that's how it happens, but it's more than that.

Somewhere along the line, this woman became one of the dearest friends I have. I tell her everything, from the sublime to the ridiculous. The inappropriate and obscene and the erudite and wise. We've seen each other through more than I can list here, and some of it's not mine to list, anyway.

But by this afternoon, I will be at her house. With my friend. Because she's getting married. And I'm luckily enough to be invited. Words can't do it justice. Not really.



Those are can't stop squeeing Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.

Lovely Words

As a writer, I love words. It's helpful in my chosen profession. And I love the subtle differences a simple word choice can make.

Did you fall...or were you pushed?
Did you crash...or did you stumble?
Are you broken...or are you bent?

I've got some friends who are going through some stuff right now. Maybe you do, too, because it seems we are all always going through stuff, or know someone who is. Regardless, we should all make sure we are choosing our words, and picking the ones that actually define the situation. 

Because bent may feel broken, but it's not the same.

Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you a Starbucks mocha latte.

Heart Update

So, a few posts back, I slipped in there the fact that my heart wasn't working as well as we'd thought. Premature Ventricular Contractions. Normal in a normal heart ~ but mine's not normal. Blah blah blah. And my doctor's PA ordered a stress test and said we'd probably be looking at beta blockers.

For the rest of my life. 

Lithus and I immediately said sure, if that's what it takes. Anything. But the more we researched it and thought about it and talked about, the less I liked beta blockers. If I had to take them, fine. But I decided I was walking into yesterday's appointment saying "how do we keep me off meds?"

He looked at everything, read everything and proceeded to give me the prognosis: "There is absolutely nothing here that concerns me in the least. You may have a few more PVCs than I do, but not enough to care about. We keep you off meds by not giving them to you."

Then he said two things that very well may prove to be life changing.

Thing the first ~ I said "well, you know I've always been quirky." To which he replied, "actually, no, you're perfectly normal." Said no doctor to the Pobble EVER before. I am perfectly normal.

Thing the second ~ "You are attuned and sensitive to your heart because you had a really serious heart condition all this time, so you feel these things. But you don't have a heart condition any longer. You can stop paying so close attention. You're okay now."

Holy. Shit.

Perfectly normal. Okay now.

I hugged him

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

Validation!

Because I like to keep an eye on what's happening in human services, just in case, I still get my idealist.org job postings. The other day, this showed up in my inbox ~ 

Seeking an Outreach Specialist to plan, conduct, and manage various outreach, education, marketing and public relations activities on behalf of the organization. Duties include: assist in the planning and production of fair housing events; coordinate external communication on behalf of the organization through mediums including the Center's blog, mass emails, and social media platforms; produce and distribute accessible educational materials; assist in providing educational trainings; and represent the organization at various events.

There's more that, but I won't bore you with a full job description. It's a full-time job. 40 hours per week. Knowing human services, more than 40. Let me tell you ~ I would have gotten this job. I would have kicked ass at this job. 

So, what's the big deal? I am now, officially and formally ~ not because I think it's true, but because it has been proven ~ making more as a part-time writer than I would be going back to full-time human services. 

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

Love or Hate

I have never been a terribly competitive person. You hear people say that the best way to motivate them is to tell them they can't do something. That's not me. If I'm told I can't do something by someone who doesn't matter ~ in other words, the vast majority of people I interact with ~ it has no impact on me whatsoever. If I'm told I can't do something by someone who does matter, my response is, more often than not, to try it one more time, just to make sure, then shrug and go find something I can do.

It is far more motivating to me to know in my own soul that I can do something, even if it's going to take a lot of hard work and effort. Or to have one of those handful of people who matter believe in me. The whole reverse psychology thing has never been a big motivator for me. 

A while ago, I heard a couple sportscasters talking about a team's co-captains and the announcers said what a great balance the two women made because co-captain #1 hated to lose and co-captain #2 loved to win, and how a really great team needed both of those influences.

That's when the light went on for me. I'm a love to win kind of person. Do I like losing? Of course not. But the truth is ~ it doesn't matter all that much to me. There is nothing out there that one could win or lose that I stake my sense of self, and self-worth, on. So, okay, I lost. It sucked, but I'm moving on. No need to go back a prove anything. No need to avenge anything.

Winning, on the other hand....oooooo! I love winning.

Are there exceptions to everything? Of course. There used to be certain people that, oh hell no, I don't lose to them. But they aren't in my life any longer, for what I consider to be obvious reasons. Are there times when winning doesn't make me feel good? Yep. And I have taken one for that particular team on more than one occasion.

But generally speaking, at my core, it's not that I hate to lose, but I really do love to win.

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

Shopping

Earlier this summer, I realized that my summer clothes were in pretty desperate need of replacing. So, while we were in Spokane, Lithus and I went shopping. Oooo, I just love city shopping. And since it was the end of the summer, and the stores had already transitioned into fall styles, everything was on sale and I could do even more shopping.

I bought size 12, 14, 16, 16W, and 18 that all fit beautifully. I didn't buy a 12, 14, 16, or 18 because they were too small. Nor did I buy a 14, 16, or 18 because they were too big.

Is it too much to ask for me to know how many inches around my waist is and how many inches long my inseam is and be able to buy clothes sized logically?

On the flip side, now I have some really cute new summer clothes to get me through NOLA fall and how ever many more summers I wear them. So, really, as much as I would appreciate logical sizes, keep making cute clothes and let me shop for them in wonderful cities and I'll be happy.

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