Queen of Fools

I inhabit three worlds.
First the world of myself, my family, my friends and all our mundane problems.
Next the world of current events with al-Queda, global warming and the Portland City Council tumbling along like wet clothes in the news cycle. And finally, the fantasy world, where Brangelina is king and TomKat desperately wants to unseat them.

Some interesting parallels developed in the second and third worlds lately. Namely, Warren Buffett, the second richest man in the world, donating the bulk of his fortune to the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation. Huzzah! Finally a news story that gives you some hope for our in-the-shitter society.

I'm glad that some of the crazy-rich and crazy-famous are using their powers for good, like Brangelina and their adopt-the-world campaign. Or old-ass Cher is calling congress and urging them to get our troops some better helmets.
(Remember when she pranced around a battleship with her old tattooed ass hanging out of her 'outfit'? Oh Cher, you are priceless. Some day gay men will wait for hours to visit your preserved corpse alongside Lenin's.)
Look at Bono, that guy got rich countries to forgive the debt of poor countries! Excuse me Bono, sir, can you call my student-loan lender for me?

Then there's Paris Hilton.
A woman so repulsive that her creepy, car-washing commerical for Carl's Jr. was pulled due to complaints. Not even the horniest 8th grade boy wanted to see that.
I have a friend who tells me there are girls in California who want to be Paris Hilton, who idolize and emulate her. First of all, I can't believe that, and second of all if this is true, those girls are fools and she is their queen.

I'd like to see that vapid bitch start building some schools for orphans in South Africa. But then again, maybe we need her in the world so that we more appreciate men like Warren Buffett and Bono, whose generosity and activism make them great, not their money or fame.

Summer Solstice

It's Summer Solstice and all the British New Agers are stuck in traffic leaving Stonehenge.
We have a summer solstice tradition in my neighborhood, too.
My local Safeway re-decorates with a Western/Cowboy theme for a month each July. I don't know why, just a summer kind of thing.
Speaking of the western/cowboy theme, in Wyoming, where I grew up, summer is like taking a deep breath before winter settles back in. The wind is forever blowing something across the highway; occasionally tumbleweeds, but most of time it's snow.
Snow snow snow. Cold Cold Cold
As a kid, I held onto each non-below-freezing summer day like a squirrel hoarding nuts. I stayed outside as long as possible not only to avoid my mother but for the pure novelty of being outside in a land that is normally inhospitable 9 months out of 12.
I craved summer so much that I moved to the desert southwest.
Sun sun sun. Hot Hot Hot.
So much sun I refered to working on my tan as my part-time job. I had brown legs, blonde hair and a batallion of water bottles in the trunk of my car.

I must have finally gotten my fill of summer down there, because now I live at the end of the Oregon Trail where it's not too hot and not too cold and soggy in between.

Is there a Black Hole in Here?

My little blue notebook is missing and I won't rest until I find it.
All kinds of important stuff like appointments, addresses, directions, phone numbers, confirmation numbers and other assorted very valuable info disappeared along with my little blue book.
Now I could seriously live without most of that information because, but most vitally this notebook contains a credit card number that I desperately, desperately, desperately need.
I've torn my place apart over the past 2 days, searching ever searching for my notebook.
Today I told my 3-yr-old son and his friend that if they found it I'd bake cookies.
No Luck.
Where is that notebook? Where in my 1,000-square-foot apartment could it be? I even visited the dumpster yesterday and poked at the last bag of garbage I threw away, just in case, in a moment of extreme insanity, I accidently tossed it.
No Luck.
I'm gonna go crazy if I don't find it so please pray that whatever cosmic black hole swallowed my blue notebook spits it back out again.
Or, provide me with another credit card number; which ever you choose will be fine.

Sitting Goddess

-For Jenny

The Old Flame

I first heard his voice through a window. I was smoking a cigarette - brooding and melancholy that was my style. He was spinning some tall tale, loudly and colorfully, that was his style.
When we first made love I could hardly believe my luck. My stomach still seizes up at the memory.

Before him I was girl, he made me woman. He didn't take my virgingity, that was long gone. Instead he taught me that grown men don't want silly little girls, they wantmature women who can hold up the world while it's falling to pieces around them.

He couldn't commit and after two years of waiting I left him in Vegas. It's where he wanted to be.

Willie Nelson sings an incredibly sad song called "Angel Flying too Close to the Ground." Thats my song to you, Ricky. I know you're probably still in Vegas, in the same house, in the same situation.

I'm in Portland now, married with those kids you said you'd never be able to give me.

Roy saw my first son a few years ago. Did he tell you? I wanted to ask him about you, but I didn't, it felt too weird. I mean, it was pretty obvious that I'd moved on.

You were right, it never would have worked between us. You were always right. I still love you, always will. I know you're happy about that.

Walt Whitman and the Universe

Walt Whitman spent many long lonesome hours walking the shores of Long Island, contemplating universal truths.
Before my current incarnation as suburban wife and mother, I was a solitary wanderer; walking alone through God's own masterpiece, the Colorado Plateau.

Along with the usual survival stuff, I carried a few other essentials in my backpack: Journal, peace pipe, and Walt Whitman.
One autum day, staring into the waves off Paumanok, he thought:

"Aware now that amid all that blab. . . I have not once had the least idea who or what I am/
I perceive I have not really understood any thing, not a single object, and that no man ever can."

I can really relate with W.W. today. Contemplating all of creation can make the poet/philosopher feel very small and powerless. Then just as you get some perspective back, start thinking that maybe you arn't so helpless, a big wave comes ashore and knocks you senseless.

Behold the Bargain

Thomas Friedman's got it goin on as far as foreign and domestic affairs are concerned. I read his column religiously.

He has a new book that I must read, so I put myself on the waiting list at my public library. I was #208 when I first placed my request (back in March.)
I haven't checked my place in line recently.

I won't pay full-price or even eBay or Amazon price for it.
My house is overflowing with books; most of them were gifts or garage sale finds. I have little kids, and you'd be amazed at how many kids books you can buy for .10 cents.

The last time I paid full price for a brand new hard-cover was when I bought "America, a Citizen's Giude to Democracy Inaction," and only because the waiting list for that book was so long they weren't even allowing people to request it anymore.

Anyway. . today we're browsing used books for sale at a public library, and there is was: Thomas Friedman's The World is Flat,
Brand-new Hard-cover edition.
Take a Deep Breath.
Check the Inside Cover for a Price.
$6.50. $6.50 (?) $6.50!!
(Background Music:) The Hallelujah Chorus.

Throw in two kids books for .25 cents and you have two very satisfied book enthusiasts and one drooling baby.

Rhetorical Question, but I gotta ask it. .

Why was Bill Clinton nearly impeached over an extra-marital affair he lied about, while George W. Bush is the most unpopular president since WWII for many reasons and everybody is just assuming he's keeping his job.

I generally don't Bush-bash because I don't think it does much good, but come on! I'm a registered Republican and I hate this guy.

The ecomony is doing well, but we're mentally unstable. We're the most unhealthy, stressed-out, heavily-medicated country in the world, and we can't take much more of this.

The guy is an alcoholic after all.

I was once told, "George Bush prays everyday."
I also pray everyday and have a deep faith in God.
So does Osama Bin Laden.

Here we go again. . fighting a war for God.
He really doesn't need us to do that for him. Thanks anyway.


I'd rather go to Clinton's church than Bush's.