still doing the tango with my "boss". but. i do believe there will be some trust at the end. i hope. i've been soooo unchallenging. sooooo unthreatening. non-competitive. docile. motivated. obediant. ahhhhhhhh. i hate it. i want my autonomy! i'm sick of lying on my back with my paws up and his teeth on my neck. stop the music please! then again, maybe it's not so bad having someone lead. dahrrrruh, duh da da, da dada da da da da, daarhuh da da da...

my new nick-name is Road Rage. and yes i willl accept the third installment of the pathetic contract where i work for free and like it. i am good.

i said i wasn't going to let my feathers get ruffled. that was a lie.
my feathers are ruffled about the wages. my feathers are ruffled about the hazing. my feathers are ruffled about the poor quality we are giving because of the time limits. i am a very puffed up bird.
let me just preen for a minute before i rush off into the madness and try to keep my cool while suffering the humiliations of not finding THE right vintage needles in that very large haystack.
on the bright side there's a new guy in town who is "the business" as they say.
i bow to the new props master and pray he can turn this around.
no. no bowing. but he does seem like the straight shooting type that gets right down to it and can communicate efficiently. and has no need to pose or flash his address book. it's all for the project. gets my thumbs up.
what am i still doing here?
must run. and run. andrunandrunandrunandrun.
and drive.
and phone.
and i wish i had a laptop.

So....the impossible task is under way. Bumpitybumpbumpbump.
3 weeks prep. what a joke. a cruel, cruel, joke.
but, if this is a suicide mission (and we are not gonna come out of it looking pretty) i intend to stay at the bar and enjoy the music.
blub, blub, blub.
such a lovely carpet.
such a grand idea.
at least the expensive animate furniture will be joining us in the cold plunge.
splash.
reality.
tchin,tchin.
bubbles.
i love bubbles.

He who has nothing to lose, has nothing to fear...

Had another good day. To top it off, they were even nice to me at work. I think the hazing days are almost over. And I feel like myself again. Big bonus. Stay the course, a friend recently said. (who's never around anymore) Here's to you, Yurtle.

mmmm....ifeelgoodifeelgoodifeelgoodifeelgoodifeeelgood....ifeelgood.........

It's Such A Perfect Day, I'm Gonna Share It With You

i am being paid less than a cleaning lady

over 15 respectable notches in my belt and i can show you the battlescars

but here i am again

employed to lick the pasha's ass and fetch newspapers

for less than half of what i'm worth

because they can

the power of being negative

one week. start tomorrow. half my usual rate. not even half. cause we know you really need it. one step forward. two steps back. as usual.

i shall be the best quasi volunteer this side of the goulag.

now say that and mean it

a beautiful sunrise coming up over the hill promises that today will be the day to go cut those bushes. all 1 acre of them. after 3 years i now know what blooms when. what can take a little violence and what should just be ruthlessly culled. (yellow dogwood infestation) on my little tour around yesterday i was relieved to note that the last blast of winter seems to have had no effect at all on all those tulips i bought for 5 euros in Amsterdam last spring. also happy to see the emergence of my friends the daffoldils, rescued from a dumpster in massive number after careless disposal by crap "xxxxx" who are illiterate and stupid asskissers with no conscience and very long brown tongues and a tendancy to steal. woops! it just popped out...back to gardening...ah, forget it.

other news, my son is home with that explosive diarrea that haas apparently plagued the world. in a positive light we'll call it spring purification. we are all looking forward to that. hooray for biodegradable wet wipes. and spray bottles of diluted bleach solution.

also, went for dinner with a family who from the moment we pulled into their driveway seemed to absorb all my limited supply of self-confidence and cause me to apologize for being a clod who opted out of that over-achiever madness therefore having no fun yachting friends, no charity groups, no six figure success story to tell...instead i found myself drunkenly blurting out tales of friends whose life experiences include domestic violence, poverty, and in one case, forced prostitution. aint i the life of the party. should have known better than to go out on an off day. full moon and all. it didn't help that the script the lady wanted us to read was so bad i couldn't finish it. but they were nice people and despite a difference in life choices i think i could see myself inviting them back to the LoveShack for a bbq at a later date. social inroads. oh what a price i pay for being a hermit.

well. i have just been to visit Jane. she is going through something and it resonated very deeply with me. one of my comments to her may have been totally off. why do i not keep my mouth shut? toads. everywhere.

4 AM how bout that

At this time of night i often wake up to the loud shuffling and bumping noises of my sub-conscious moving furniture around. wish i knew what was going on in there but find only the odd clues, tossed out in the form of neatly crumpled balls of futility.

here's one. if a man were to discover that his life was on a loop and that every time he got to a certain place he had to have resolved some mind boggling puzzle and he wakes up with peices of that puzzle sticking him like shards of glass and one day he gets it and instead of finding out he's mad, he wakes up back where he started, many lives ago, with a bunch of people he'd long forgotten about all expecting answers to that puzzle and if he shares the information it will alter the present but if he doesn't they will be destroyed. does he chose to stay and help the people he left or does he go back to his modern world? what would the info be? i think he's pre-rome. i say he would probably stay and help but not share too much info because if he did i would not be sitting here mindlessly typing at my computer. but i would probably share the info myself.

because i am Boudicca

here at the Crisis Containment Centre, it has been noticed that there's been a lot of talk and no action. both the president and the vice president of said committee are in danger of being removed from their posts should appropriate action not take place immediately.

the Commitee

minimum investment emergency cash plan:

recycled metal lamp stands for ElectroCarl
painted mdf cutout kids furniture
balsa cutout mobiles
painted furniture
bean bags
wall art
twig furniture

pick one

do it

Because i've been withdrawn from society since, like, forever, and because i had to learn french in order to express my high falluting and contraversial ideas (which they don't get anyways) ie; when i was attempting to do a thesis on women's perspectives in cinema and my prof asks me why the hell i would chose that topic when women have been liberated since mai 68, have the pill, can vote, and work, da da da, why would i chose such an outdated topic in 1995!? so i concluded that it was not worth the effort and went to work as a slave for the production industry where my silly notions just didn't matter at all because you do the job and you shut up. and so i'm a little awkward. like my son when he was 2. i have these ideas that i just can not express. but i know they're important because i think them and then, suddenly, i see them written on the wall. all over. why is it that it's so hard for so many to see that writing? why is it i can't express it, only feel it in my bones? stand back. there's a temper tantrum coming on.

Well, they're back to school! Hooray! I can have my routine back! It's so hard to function when family is around 24/7. Homeschooling? Crazy! Nuts!
Very proud of the teenager. Unless she's got it hidden in her bag, she actually went to school without the favorite teeny tiny 30 Euro black bomber jacket AND without being nagged! A proper winter coat slammed the door this morning and plodded off through the snow. I'm so proud.
Now if she's anything like I was, it's hidden in her backpack. Let's go check. OMG. The bomber jacket is safely in it's place on the floor in a heap under all her other clothes! She's such a good girl.
Also to be commended, the choice of top. It actually comes down over her navel today. Smart girl. Mind you the Adidas tennis shoes will have to be our next area of focus as I did notice the snow boots looking rejected in the hall. Did I wear snow boots at 14? Hmn, no I think it was topsiders or docksiders or whatever the hell they were called. The more holes the better. Preferably wrapped in gaffer tape. And I remember something about bare feet and bermuda shorts there for a brief while...(we're talking feb. in CANADA) No, that was 15.
At 14, I was usually safely wrapped in several layers of "stoner jackets" or "lumber jackets", preferably on permanent loan from some really cute guy with really long hair and covered in concert badges and roach clips, over the little black concert t-shirt and wore...um...white leather Nikes with my skin tight, coat-hangered up, Roadrunner jeans. Oh, yeah! I did have boots! They were high heeled leather boots (fur lined) that I tucked those tight jeans into, sucessfully completing the whole Hot Child In the City Look! Yes!It's all coming back to me now! Frightening!
Ah, what they don't know can't hurt'em....
...PArty man!

My eldest is back from a vacation with cher papa (yay!)where she was supposed to be skiing... but the gods of i-told-you-so nipped her in the bottom and she spent the week in bed with bronchitis. We have had the fashion victim awareness talk and despite fingers in the ears and the icanthearyouicanthearyou, i think it's message recieved. thankfully after a week of cooped up and boring, we've all just returned from the best 20 minutes of winter fun to be had here i the goulag. rosy cheeks, sniffles and hot chocolate.

A Little More Snow in the Forecast

sort of a grey picture but it's actually really white and wonderous

Daily Corniness

an elegant entrance to the ballroom made she
though the name of this lady remained mystery.
she waltzed with the gypsies,
chatted with kings,
played blackjack with the devil,
stroked white angel's wings,
and when the party was over she left with a sigh,
a smile on her lips, a tear dotting her eye...

by me, 25 years ago, in math class

in the background, hear classical spanish guitar. think crackling fire, dry white wine and smack your lips to almond crusted salmon and chocolate covered pears...

here and now. i am home, with my children, safe and warm. and thankfully getting over the flu. we have devised a plan with the people who wear suits,so no one will be taking our furniture this month. the heat will stay on, at least until the beginning of next week, when a trickle of cash should arrive breifly on account before disappearing into the void. we are no longer protected by the big kids on the block but they were bullies and we are wiser now. outside it has been snowing and the world is a brighter place, if not a bit chilly. i am surrounded by trees, green, solid, and bending with the wind. watching the snowflakes stretch the minutes. as she says, time goes by, so slowly...soon i will make lunch, put a fire in the fireplace and try to keep my mind still.

obviously shouldn't ask the universerse for answers to questions that i already have.