A puzzling contradiction

Hannah is a friend that makes a very quantifiable impact on my life. I have a huge amount of respect and admiration for her. She has without being overtly motherly, given me some important but subtle direction as well. All people are multidimensional and multifaceted. So, she is many things but for the purposes of referencing some of her attributes I think it's fair to give her a few adjectives:
Classy
Sassy
Sweet with a large side of Mean
Funny

I list these first because these are the things which I believe we have most in common.

The other areas of our lives we have very little in common. I guess they are less important in a way, however, because she is one of my best friends (which I believe rotate as needed through the timeline of life) so basically, [disclosure: if you are my friend and reading this just know you are probably also my best friend.]

In any case, I think I've earned the right to call Hannah a bitch. I don't mean the way girls reference that in endearment and giggle like it's some inside joke.

Puh-lease!

I mean Hannah is a Bitch. Telling her this to her face might incur the wrath so I don't go that route. I am however sure that I can say that if Hannah is asked to really think about it, she knows I would describe her this way. What I find amusing and what pleases me about the whole topic is that we could move past that. 

Hannah isn't the type of person to take a situation and turn it into something more than it is. Girl has other things to think about, deal with, and do. Quite frankly, she can be a great friend but if the tides turn she will take it in stride. I feel like she can easily walk away from a lot of relationships (for instance ours). And I get that.

What I DON'T get is her continued resolve to never officially walk away from the relationship of that with her Hubs. Her Hubs is basically the kryptonite to my metaphorical Superman personality. I am against practically everything about him. I mean, he has only a few things going for him. One, he is a man. Two, he provides income. Three, ..shit I got hung up on three.

So, basically, what makes me scratch my head is that Hannah more or less sees him in this very same light.

I am not criticizing her choice to not move on. Trust me. I get that life gets ever so complicated and entangled with time and other factors including, but not limited to, children.

I am only saying, that I don't really get it. It's not representative of who she is. It's just not.

In closing, here is an image from 2007 that, if she knew I was sharing, she would NOT be crazy about. In fact, I can say with certainty that if it was posted on facebook, she would untag herself.

BAM! Kiss!

You kiss your kids, you kiss your spouse. Obviously, in different kinds of ways.

Maybe your spouse kisses you on the cheek when you are cooking supper. It warms your heart. Think about how much the feeling lasts for people who are neglected. The older we age the less that we are touched. Touch somebody.

Kiss your grandparents, not just when you say hello or goodbye. But when they don't expect it. Today, I walked in from the yard to find grandpa had fallen asleep in his chair. AsI walked up he opened his eyes and BAM! I kissed him on the cheek. That'll last him for hours at least!

I walked into the kitchen and Gma was doing her mail and BAM! I kissed her cheek! She *giggled* I made my 80 y/o Gma giggle.

So, stop being so serious all the time.

Pat on the shoulder, touch hands, kiss cheeks!

Just do it!

Warehouse of the Abandoned

My Saturday morning began with my refusal to enter reality, causing me to leave my dream, where I was having a fucking adventure! I am so annoyed by leaving my adventures for something as dull as real life. I usually get over this fairly quickly and am not one of those zombie-like people that take several hours to actually become a functioning human. The morning is the best time to cuddle with my dog, who is now almost 7, and has mellowed significantly. She allows and enjoys dog massage. It's definitely several grades above simple petting. Dog massage is for only a few "special" (read:insane) dog people. Whatever, my dog deserves a good massage.

Entering the kitchen to make coffee I see my Grandma in one of her usual states of mind. It's a unique kind of frenzy basically where by Grandma's brain wheels are spinning so fast I am pretty sure she could produce enough electricity to run the household. When do you think neuroscientists will tap into this kind of source?

Moving on. I helped her fix her calculator, which she had been working on for an hour in vain. Poor thing. I told her if we just look the model up on the internet it will tell us what to do. Without defensiveness, just matter of factly, she reminds me that, during her day people had to figure things out with their mind. Which is true. I give her some serious credentials. Woman can build a house and do a billion other useful tasks with pure willpower. After solving the calculator issue I ate some cereal at the table talking to my Grandma about how she belonged in the pioneer Manifest Destiny days. She would totally roll with the punches. And by punches I guess I mean cholera, mountains, creeks, broken wheels, sick animals, and squirrel hunting. That type of thing. No problem for Grandma.

Then I mentioned something she has been wanting to do- going to the warehouse of the abandoned. Diatribe about old money, spoiled rich, and quality made home items. There. Covered that. So Grandma simply says, "Well. I'm ready." And she was-of course- she ALWAYS is. Wake Gma up at 3am saying "Gma we have to _____" and she'll say, "Give me 5 minutes." And then she'll be standing at the backdoor looking in after you seeing if you are ready to go yet.

So at the warehouse, which so should be renamed something spectacular and significant, I found that although leaving my previous dreams was crappy I could have some new dreams in these aisles of abandoned EVERYTHING.

As if we did not have enough projects...now we have several more.

While leaving, Gma preferred that I employ a different technique to turn the truck around out of the lot. I said "Your granddaughter knows how to drive a truck." Lately, I have been doing that for some reason. Saying things like "Your granddaughter is one resourceful lady!" and "Your granddaughter's mother didn't raise no fool!"and "Your granddaughter is absolutely NOT planting a photenia tree in this yard!" or "Your granddaughter does not understand the point of ironing sheets!"

A couple weeks ago I lost my job. Well, it's not like I lost it so much as I was fired. And I wasn't so much fired as I was pissed off, aggressive, and quit. It's complicated. Let's move on.

The next day I loathed existence. Nothing meant anything and everything was futile. About 5 days later I got over it, deciding to wash my hair again. In any case, I went outside and stared at the ground for a while. Next thing I know I was up in the tree trying to cut down limbs and branches that did nothing wrong except grow in an angle that made me feel like they deserved to be destroyed. At one point I got down to get a saw also and a pair of gloves for my hands because apparently I was fucking serious.
After some time my Grandma was standing under the tree looking up at me.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm cutting on this tree!"
"I am going to the post office. I'll be back in a little while."
"Ok." I readjust and crotch-climb up higher.
Grandma gets in the car, puts it in reverse. I swing my leg over a knob so I can push out awkwardly at an angle to reach farther. Grandma put it in drive, scoots back up to the tree, rolls down her window and says "Do you need the saw?"
"I already got it."
"Ok, bye." She leaves.

This is my Grandma. Ask Seth. He once witnessed my assignment of limb cutting the pecan tree while on top of the garage. I was satisfied but Gma asks about getting just one more branch. She suggested I get the ladder set up in the bed of my pickup, back in, and climb on top with a POLE SAW.
I looked at Seth's mouth hanging open, eyes big. "Sorry Gma, ain't going to happen." She moves on to the next task of busy work muttering something about how she would do it. And she will. You gotta watch her. That same determination that keeps her going strong also keeps me trailing behind her trying to talk her down off the metaphorical ladder.

Sunshine curls of an angel comes to visit

Just a dream... 


Jenna and I are in a van with no windows, leaving somewhere exotic with mountains in the background but grasslands along the road. The wind is blowing and we are laughing with our heads out of the windows. I'm happy, really happy. Innocently happy like a child. And so I begin to think about Jon-Clay and there he is running along side the van in the tall grass, his blond curls bouncing from his shoulders. He's laughing and we are laughing and Jenna is smiling, thinking "Oh, look, he came to say hello! He came to say Hi!" And I was telling her, "Of course he did. I told you he'll come sometimes. If I think of him he'll come." It wasn't that she didn't believe me. In dreams like this it's that I need her to be with me for her to see him. Either that, or he needs to see her, and he can do it easier when I am with her. I am not sure. Either way it's not quite like "matchmaker" feeling. But it is like showing the sun the moon or something very important. Like I am honoring him by making him come. Like I am honoring her by showing her I can make him come.