Yesterday a very cheerful FedEx driver came to my door. Well, ok, he tried to come to my door. I actually met him halfway down the stairs, going, "Gimmie, gimmie gimmie gimmie!" B was laughing his butt off, but that's allright, because I was the first person in the house to hold, with my very own hands... Harry Potter and the Order of the Pheonix. Woo Hoo!
The FedEx guy said we were about the hundredth delivery he had made that day, and he looked like he felt like Santa Claus. I'm about halfway through the book, and it's fabulous!
That's all I'm going to say. Read it yourself, then come talk to me. I'll be waiting. ;)
Sunday, June 22, 2003
Saturday, June 14, 2003
The memorial was beautiful, the day was perfect and there was a yard full of support.
I was touched (to the core of my being) when Lama showered my friend with rose petals. I saw it as such a beautiful, multilayered tribute to her motherhood -and it wrenched my soul.
I can't write about this yet. Suffice it to say, the entire ceremony was beautiful. I don't mean beautiful like a flower, or a sunset. I mean more beautiful then standing in the presence of Goddess. I have never been touched in the way that memorial service has touched me.
It's easy to write flowing words of praise, and I find that the English language is not big enough to describe Quinn's memorial service. There's no sense of drama for me here, this all just is.
I was touched (to the core of my being) when Lama showered my friend with rose petals. I saw it as such a beautiful, multilayered tribute to her motherhood -and it wrenched my soul.
I can't write about this yet. Suffice it to say, the entire ceremony was beautiful. I don't mean beautiful like a flower, or a sunset. I mean more beautiful then standing in the presence of Goddess. I have never been touched in the way that memorial service has touched me.
It's easy to write flowing words of praise, and I find that the English language is not big enough to describe Quinn's memorial service. There's no sense of drama for me here, this all just is.
I still have very little to say about Quinn passing. I've never known the death of a child. I'm learning a lot about myself with this whole grief thing. It's nice to know that I'm capable of compassion, and for the first time in my life, that little voice that sits in my head and critiques everything, is silent. I'm just acting, I'm not thinking. I'm aware enough to pick up the feedback that I'm being a support to others, and it's been amazingly easy to accept support, too. I'm not shutting people down or blowing off their efforts. I hope I stay this way... I like me a lot better now. Q brought so much into this world, I just sit and marvel at how unbelievably lucky I am to be blessed with this too.
We wound up throwing an impromptu wake after the memorial service. Everyone got way drunker than they should have. It's the first IGPS anything where a bunch of people were out of control, sloppy-drunk. I can't imagine it being any other way, though. It was liberating, it was good for us, and it was sad. I think I'm beginning to understand the whole drink-to-forget thing. When you're really soused, it's painless. I really wish I could have gotten into that state, but all the Mudslide in the world wasn't doing it for me. -I was plowed last night, and I was still stone cold sober. You shouldn't feel sober when you can't walk a straight line.
I guess the shaman in me wouldn't let me use drink to shut down my connectedness. Actually, that's pretty damn cool. We went through 4 packs of cigarettes last night... I was down to maybe 10 a day. This whole think sucks. It's not right, and it's not fair, and I rail against the injustice of it all, then the next second thank the universe for the gift that Quinn was. If you never met him, you have no idea what a fabulous soul he is.
Clearly, I'm just mind-dumping here, and it's not changing anything, so I'm gonna stop.
We wound up throwing an impromptu wake after the memorial service. Everyone got way drunker than they should have. It's the first IGPS anything where a bunch of people were out of control, sloppy-drunk. I can't imagine it being any other way, though. It was liberating, it was good for us, and it was sad. I think I'm beginning to understand the whole drink-to-forget thing. When you're really soused, it's painless. I really wish I could have gotten into that state, but all the Mudslide in the world wasn't doing it for me. -I was plowed last night, and I was still stone cold sober. You shouldn't feel sober when you can't walk a straight line.
I guess the shaman in me wouldn't let me use drink to shut down my connectedness. Actually, that's pretty damn cool. We went through 4 packs of cigarettes last night... I was down to maybe 10 a day. This whole think sucks. It's not right, and it's not fair, and I rail against the injustice of it all, then the next second thank the universe for the gift that Quinn was. If you never met him, you have no idea what a fabulous soul he is.
Clearly, I'm just mind-dumping here, and it's not changing anything, so I'm gonna stop.
Tuesday, June 10, 2003
It hurts so much right now. This post is all about my personal hurt, and my overwhelming grief for my best friend. I couldn't sleep last night. I couldn't stop my brain from running in all directions. I probably drove Hubby up a wall with how often I got out of bed. I didn't really want to sleep anyway.
We sat outside, surrounded by tiki torches and cut wood rom the tree, and talked about what a beacon of light Quinn has always been. We sat and cried, we sat in quiet shock. I sat instead of running to the hospital and holding my friend. There is no magic for grief, so I sit and send my love, because that's all I have.
I propose a toast to The Mighty Quinn, King of the Wild Things, lover of heavy machinery on wheels, and keeper of the mommy hair. Thank you for sharing your time here with so many.
I also propose a toast to Chasmyn and her wonderful Hubby. You have shared every step of your road with Quinn, and it has made me a better person. Your strength reminds me to be strong, your willingness to take the harder path awakened me to the value of having a fighting chance. Your limitless love of your amazing son showed me how to let love in. I know you didn't do any of these things for me, and I thank you.
If any avid readers out there find this page, let me tell you I hope you have someone in your life as awesome as Chasmyn. I love you, and I'll always be here for you.
We sat outside, surrounded by tiki torches and cut wood rom the tree, and talked about what a beacon of light Quinn has always been. We sat and cried, we sat in quiet shock. I sat instead of running to the hospital and holding my friend. There is no magic for grief, so I sit and send my love, because that's all I have.
I propose a toast to The Mighty Quinn, King of the Wild Things, lover of heavy machinery on wheels, and keeper of the mommy hair. Thank you for sharing your time here with so many.
I also propose a toast to Chasmyn and her wonderful Hubby. You have shared every step of your road with Quinn, and it has made me a better person. Your strength reminds me to be strong, your willingness to take the harder path awakened me to the value of having a fighting chance. Your limitless love of your amazing son showed me how to let love in. I know you didn't do any of these things for me, and I thank you.
If any avid readers out there find this page, let me tell you I hope you have someone in your life as awesome as Chasmyn. I love you, and I'll always be here for you.
Saturday, June 07, 2003
Haven't been posting to Random Redhead lately. I've had too much to do in the now, and I'm not in a space to re-live a bunch of horrific shit from my childhood. Sorry, avid readers, I promise I'll post again. Perhaps when Q goes home.
In other headlines, heh... Why do certain fundamentalist christians call themselves "apologetics"? Have you ever heard a fundie apologise for anything? I haven't. Of course, I don't hang out with many fundies. They tend to avoid me and my pagan ways. ;)
I did a google search for "shamanism blog", and golly, did I find a treasure trove of nonsense. It's nice to see that google lists me 4th, tho. I found this ad for Demystified shamanism and hypnotic methods for the seduction of women. Right. All offended women, raise your hand. Ooh, ooh, me! How about Download past lives? Anybody actually buy this stuff? I figure if one of my past lives is on the internet, I'll find it eventually. Perhaps I should do a search for "she dances in dragon + past lives -cleopatra -joan of arc"
I did find some good stuff, too, like Aspects of Shamanism by Gyrus. Look him up, it's a fascinating technical article.
In other headlines, heh... Why do certain fundamentalist christians call themselves "apologetics"? Have you ever heard a fundie apologise for anything? I haven't. Of course, I don't hang out with many fundies. They tend to avoid me and my pagan ways. ;)
I did a google search for "shamanism blog", and golly, did I find a treasure trove of nonsense. It's nice to see that google lists me 4th, tho. I found this ad for Demystified shamanism and hypnotic methods for the seduction of women. Right. All offended women, raise your hand. Ooh, ooh, me! How about Download past lives? Anybody actually buy this stuff? I figure if one of my past lives is on the internet, I'll find it eventually. Perhaps I should do a search for "she dances in dragon + past lives -cleopatra -joan of arc"
I did find some good stuff, too, like Aspects of Shamanism by Gyrus. Look him up, it's a fascinating technical article.
Wednesday, June 04, 2003
The tree is gone!
Yesterday, Gateway Tree Service came and took out our 44 year old monster maple. They did a fabulous job. We asked them to leave the logs for firewood, and they stacked everything against the shed. Well, ok, they stacked everything they could lift against the shed. We still have the monster trunk spread out across the yard. We need to rent a hydraulic splitter before the wood dries. So, why do I highly recommend Gateway Tree Service? Because they left not one leaf behind. They totally cleaned up after themselves. We have a tiny bit of sawdust to sweep up, and that's it. Goodbye lovely shade, I'll miss you.
For the bargain price of $850, this fully insured company got our power dropped (good thing), moved our swimming pool, took apart a meter wide tree, stacked the wood, got our power up again, and put the pool back where they had found it. Their phone is 314-752-5992
Kudo's also to our neighbor, Salvador. Thank you for generously sharing your electricity with us for a few hours. You rock!
Now for the gross bits. One whole limb, bigger around than my hips (shudder) was totally rotted away. I went outside today and poked a stick into the rotten part. It was squishy-wet and crumbly. I dug out some larval something or others, I don't know what they were, but they looked like large living boogers. I put them in a pile for the robins. I can hear the birds outside right now chirping out their delight.
I've always been tickled pink about the abundance of wildlife around us. Just this year, I've seen a turkey, a groundhog, a skunk, a bald eagle, bats, falcons, hawks, several pairs of heron, woodpeckers, and hummingbirds.
Of course, I've also seen the standard city animals- pidgeons, sparrows, crows, cardinals, jays, squirrel, possum and raccoon.
L is hopeful that the woodpeckers will still come around, and I assured him that there were plenty of dead and dying trees around to support them.
I've seen all kinds of freaky bugs around here, including those nasty white grubs that eat your rosebushes, but I think the booger slugs living in the tree take the cake. At least for this week. Two weeks ago I would have laughed if you'd said I would see a living skunk in my lifetime.
That skunk was pretty damn cool. I know skunks are predators, but I'd never been close enough to one to really catch that vibe before. I went inside when it started climbing our hill towards me. Yeah, I'm chicken. There are a few things I don't need to experience in this lifetime. Skunk encounter, by teeth or by tail, is somewhere on the list between suffering food poisoning and jumping out of an airplaine.
Yesterday, Gateway Tree Service came and took out our 44 year old monster maple. They did a fabulous job. We asked them to leave the logs for firewood, and they stacked everything against the shed. Well, ok, they stacked everything they could lift against the shed. We still have the monster trunk spread out across the yard. We need to rent a hydraulic splitter before the wood dries. So, why do I highly recommend Gateway Tree Service? Because they left not one leaf behind. They totally cleaned up after themselves. We have a tiny bit of sawdust to sweep up, and that's it. Goodbye lovely shade, I'll miss you.
For the bargain price of $850, this fully insured company got our power dropped (good thing), moved our swimming pool, took apart a meter wide tree, stacked the wood, got our power up again, and put the pool back where they had found it. Their phone is 314-752-5992
Kudo's also to our neighbor, Salvador. Thank you for generously sharing your electricity with us for a few hours. You rock!
Now for the gross bits. One whole limb, bigger around than my hips (shudder) was totally rotted away. I went outside today and poked a stick into the rotten part. It was squishy-wet and crumbly. I dug out some larval something or others, I don't know what they were, but they looked like large living boogers. I put them in a pile for the robins. I can hear the birds outside right now chirping out their delight.
I've always been tickled pink about the abundance of wildlife around us. Just this year, I've seen a turkey, a groundhog, a skunk, a bald eagle, bats, falcons, hawks, several pairs of heron, woodpeckers, and hummingbirds.
Of course, I've also seen the standard city animals- pidgeons, sparrows, crows, cardinals, jays, squirrel, possum and raccoon.
L is hopeful that the woodpeckers will still come around, and I assured him that there were plenty of dead and dying trees around to support them.
I've seen all kinds of freaky bugs around here, including those nasty white grubs that eat your rosebushes, but I think the booger slugs living in the tree take the cake. At least for this week. Two weeks ago I would have laughed if you'd said I would see a living skunk in my lifetime.
That skunk was pretty damn cool. I know skunks are predators, but I'd never been close enough to one to really catch that vibe before. I went inside when it started climbing our hill towards me. Yeah, I'm chicken. There are a few things I don't need to experience in this lifetime. Skunk encounter, by teeth or by tail, is somewhere on the list between suffering food poisoning and jumping out of an airplaine.
Saturday, May 31, 2003
People Watching at a Baseball Game
Hubby and I went to see the Cardinals smear the Astros all over the real grass in Busch Stadium. It was great. The weather was perfect -not too hot, not too cold- and we got there early! So, we're sitting in our seats, munching on garlic fries and watching the grounds-crew set up the infield. There were about 15 guys working down on the field. They got to go around sweeping all the dirt into nifty patterns, pick up any bits of dirt that had clumped, and make the chalk lines. Each task was an example of the fine art of perfection.
The pitcher's mound was worked in a spiral toward the rubber bar the pitcher stands on. Each base was swept in perfect circles. Home plate was swept like rays of the sun, then spiraled back in again. Fresh dirt was sprinkled on top of everything they had done, and when it came time to lay the chalk lines, it took every man on the field to perfect it. When they were done, the field virtually glowed with energy, and every line was crisp, clean and flawless.
The home base umpire immediately came onto the field and systematically wiped out all the chalk with his foot. It was beautiful!
I wanna be a baseball grounds keeper! I do, I do! I love all that anal stuff, and I love how it never stays perfect.
Hubby works at YMCA corporate, and they buy season tickets to give to corporate employees and donors. Last year, the seats were in front of a family from HicksVille. During one game, we actually overheard this: "I'm hotter than a goat in a paper sack." "Yeah, well I'm hotter than 2 goats in a paper sack!" No kidding. This year's seating is much better. We're on the lower portion of the third level, but it's right behing home plate. We almost got to catch a foul ball. Excellent!
There's a reason why Busch Stadium is named for beer. I'm not a beer fan. I'd have to be dying of thirst to drink one 32 oz cup 'o beer, much less three. Really, how do you quaff 96 ounces of anything in less than 3 hours? I tell you, it really puts the fear of god in you when you see people chugging the last of their 3rd tub of alcohol, then go fishing for their car keys. Look. If you're too drunk to find your pocket, then you're waaay to drunk. Oh, yes... and where are the police? Directing traffic.
I do understand, we have a couple hundred cops for the whole city, and when the game is over, you have 30,000+ people heading for home. It must be a strategic nightmare. However, I firmly believe in personal responsibility. If you're driving your family home, stay sober! If the whole clan wants to drink, watch the game on TV.
Along the lines of having no tact whatsoever- When they sing the national anthem, take off your hat, please. When the 7th inning stretch is over, sit down. Please,please,please, remember that you're moving the population of a large town into the stadium, so have your tickets ready and don't jump in the line. Hold onto your children. Personal space does not mean spread three people out across the whole ramp and walk slowly, thank you so much.
I'd like to thank Vin Diesel for bringing back the Kojak look. It's a great way to hide the fact that you're balding. We had 2 sitting near enough that we could see their scalp-stubble. They both had cute little sunglasses perched on their stubbly heads. I also got to re-live the nightmare of bad clothing from my youth. Skin tight jeans and a cute little tank top have their place. Their place is not on a middle aged woman in a size 28. If I can see your cellulite through your jeans, I'm going to be embarrased for you.
I probably sound really pissed about my experience at the stadium, but that's not so. I had a very good time, and I found it all really amusing. People watching can be a blast. People listening is fabu too. We had a guy behind us on his cell phone, trying to find a friend in the stadium. They both kept standing up and waving, saying, "Can you see me? Where are you?" See, I'd just ask them to meet me at one of the notable food stands and be done with it.
One sad final note, the saxophone player who stands at the exit and plays the theme song from the Simpsons was not there that night, so we missed out on hearing him.
Hubby and I went to see the Cardinals smear the Astros all over the real grass in Busch Stadium. It was great. The weather was perfect -not too hot, not too cold- and we got there early! So, we're sitting in our seats, munching on garlic fries and watching the grounds-crew set up the infield. There were about 15 guys working down on the field. They got to go around sweeping all the dirt into nifty patterns, pick up any bits of dirt that had clumped, and make the chalk lines. Each task was an example of the fine art of perfection.
The pitcher's mound was worked in a spiral toward the rubber bar the pitcher stands on. Each base was swept in perfect circles. Home plate was swept like rays of the sun, then spiraled back in again. Fresh dirt was sprinkled on top of everything they had done, and when it came time to lay the chalk lines, it took every man on the field to perfect it. When they were done, the field virtually glowed with energy, and every line was crisp, clean and flawless.
The home base umpire immediately came onto the field and systematically wiped out all the chalk with his foot. It was beautiful!
I wanna be a baseball grounds keeper! I do, I do! I love all that anal stuff, and I love how it never stays perfect.
Hubby works at YMCA corporate, and they buy season tickets to give to corporate employees and donors. Last year, the seats were in front of a family from HicksVille. During one game, we actually overheard this: "I'm hotter than a goat in a paper sack." "Yeah, well I'm hotter than 2 goats in a paper sack!" No kidding. This year's seating is much better. We're on the lower portion of the third level, but it's right behing home plate. We almost got to catch a foul ball. Excellent!
There's a reason why Busch Stadium is named for beer. I'm not a beer fan. I'd have to be dying of thirst to drink one 32 oz cup 'o beer, much less three. Really, how do you quaff 96 ounces of anything in less than 3 hours? I tell you, it really puts the fear of god in you when you see people chugging the last of their 3rd tub of alcohol, then go fishing for their car keys. Look. If you're too drunk to find your pocket, then you're waaay to drunk. Oh, yes... and where are the police? Directing traffic.
I do understand, we have a couple hundred cops for the whole city, and when the game is over, you have 30,000+ people heading for home. It must be a strategic nightmare. However, I firmly believe in personal responsibility. If you're driving your family home, stay sober! If the whole clan wants to drink, watch the game on TV.
Along the lines of having no tact whatsoever- When they sing the national anthem, take off your hat, please. When the 7th inning stretch is over, sit down. Please,please,please, remember that you're moving the population of a large town into the stadium, so have your tickets ready and don't jump in the line. Hold onto your children. Personal space does not mean spread three people out across the whole ramp and walk slowly, thank you so much.
I'd like to thank Vin Diesel for bringing back the Kojak look. It's a great way to hide the fact that you're balding. We had 2 sitting near enough that we could see their scalp-stubble. They both had cute little sunglasses perched on their stubbly heads. I also got to re-live the nightmare of bad clothing from my youth. Skin tight jeans and a cute little tank top have their place. Their place is not on a middle aged woman in a size 28. If I can see your cellulite through your jeans, I'm going to be embarrased for you.
I probably sound really pissed about my experience at the stadium, but that's not so. I had a very good time, and I found it all really amusing. People watching can be a blast. People listening is fabu too. We had a guy behind us on his cell phone, trying to find a friend in the stadium. They both kept standing up and waving, saying, "Can you see me? Where are you?" See, I'd just ask them to meet me at one of the notable food stands and be done with it.
One sad final note, the saxophone player who stands at the exit and plays the theme song from the Simpsons was not there that night, so we missed out on hearing him.
Monday, May 26, 2003
So I'm sitting here (on the group W bench) fighting a fever-throat-tummy virus, and it would be rude for me to spread it around at R's bbq, and I'm thinking.
Here's what's passing through my mind:
I love my house.
I love my roomie and her fabu cats.
I love my hubby, and I'm glad he's geeking out with JB today, it's good for him.
I love my son. I could fill this blog with things I admire about him.
It is a beautiful day today, perfect for yardwork, and boy- do I have a list.
The ibuprofen and peppermint combo is working great for the headache.
Ain't it great to be sick, but still in a good mood? Yay!
Here's what's passing through my mind:
I love my house.
I love my roomie and her fabu cats.
I love my hubby, and I'm glad he's geeking out with JB today, it's good for him.
I love my son. I could fill this blog with things I admire about him.
It is a beautiful day today, perfect for yardwork, and boy- do I have a list.
The ibuprofen and peppermint combo is working great for the headache.
Ain't it great to be sick, but still in a good mood? Yay!
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