STELLMON. That would be Tanner Stellmon I'm talking to--my nephew (though I guess he's not technically my nephew anymore), NOT Tanner Warnick, whom I am not talking to right now, since I had to find out about his wedding from his little brother (Whoops. Sorry, Chan. His "taller" brother) even though I planned on dancing--on the table tops--at his wedding, since I personally had to suffer so much from his troubles with Melissa, who was probably just sent to get him ready for his real wife.
Soooooo, Tanner STELLMON, I was wondering if you have an office, and if you do, is it F.S.? I tipped over rock salt today, which I had in all four corners of my house to suck out bad energy. Wow, I bought that rock salt with Serena--that's how long ago it was--it seems like I dreamed it.
Remember when I had you and Jared move my desk around so it faced exactly SE, which meant it sat triangular to the door? Whew. Did my F.S. work? I don't know. I think I'll try it again and pay attention this time. I think it did though; I'm normal more than half the time now; but I was wondering if yours did.
I wonder if the Lord ever gets irritated with our silliness.
7/14/08
7/11/08
yael naim new soul clip
PERSPECTIVES--It's always interesting to see how others view us. I'm usualy appalled at another's perspective, or surprised, sometimes amused, or irritated, disappointed, or just plain happy that someone actually understands me.
On another blog, Sarah (just had baby girl--Ella) posted lyrics from C.Crows song, "Marjorie is Dreaming of Horses." She says it reminds her of my life. To me, the lyrics paint a depressed loser. Whew (though I DO often dream of horses and related).
Today my daughter sent me yael naim's "New Soul" and said, "This is you, Mom." I relate again, especially to the lyrics "to learn to give and take ... but make so many mistakes." Also, in our 100 moves, I could never unpack boxes unless I decorated walls with my DI art and posters first, even if it meant we slept on floors and ate off crates. I relate to her scribbling in her own reality between the lines until it bursts into her vision, and if this is what J. Watson refered to as my habit of changing reality to fit what I want it to be, then he may be right. It's possible I was wrong. This looks like a younger me. (Yeah for the resurrection-the day after, I'm going to run and dance to Santana.)
But, I see pieces of me in everyone and everything. So much for identity--it's over-rated anyway.... I know I DO love this video and daughter Megan.
On another blog, Sarah (just had baby girl--Ella) posted lyrics from C.Crows song, "Marjorie is Dreaming of Horses." She says it reminds her of my life. To me, the lyrics paint a depressed loser. Whew (though I DO often dream of horses and related).
Today my daughter sent me yael naim's "New Soul" and said, "This is you, Mom." I relate again, especially to the lyrics "to learn to give and take ... but make so many mistakes." Also, in our 100 moves, I could never unpack boxes unless I decorated walls with my DI art and posters first, even if it meant we slept on floors and ate off crates. I relate to her scribbling in her own reality between the lines until it bursts into her vision, and if this is what J. Watson refered to as my habit of changing reality to fit what I want it to be, then he may be right. It's possible I was wrong. This looks like a younger me. (Yeah for the resurrection-the day after, I'm going to run and dance to Santana.)
But, I see pieces of me in everyone and everything. So much for identity--it's over-rated anyway.... I know I DO love this video and daughter Megan.
7/9/08
4th of July--White Kittens and Chainsaws.
I'm glad to have friends who hop in the car--without thinking--at midnight to help Megan and me run disaster kittens to a drop box at a Humane society. I'm glad I have that kind of a daughter. It's late on a long holiday. Em and I are sitting around a fire, and she's telling me some fascinating mystical story when I see a white kitten through the smoke--sitting perfectly still--watching us. I'm sure it's not real; it's a flashback spirit-guide from Peyote dreams of long ago, but it whines and moves. I pick it up to find its twin sulking in the shadows (marking in my mind the spot where Em needs to finish her story). They're tiny and hungry and look like they've been beaten up by raccoons, so I know what's going to happen when Megan sees them. I automatically go to the garage to cut air holes in a box. Then, we three leave son-Taylor, Jessica, and Ben and drive 15 miles over construction roads to help two mutilated kittens. Em sticks out her hand to pet white guard dogs, who happily jump in the open car door after we wouldn't let them eat the kittens. It's even later now, but time has evaporated, so we buy soda and ice cream at an all-night truck stop. For some reason, it's the best ice cream in the world. Lil' Emily Pew, does this justify having Ben let Em practice with the chainsaw? Who knows? Yes, it's possible we'll see her name in lights for the next Chainsaw Massacre movie. But she wins heavy points for just being there, supporting Megan's thin-skinned heart--without questioning--and for being who she is (WHATEVER that is).
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