"The inexorable elimination of the superflous "

sometimes i read or hear words that for whatever reason stick to me like a piece of lint on a black sweater. i can't just pick them off and let them float to the floor. they have to be repeated or written down, mulled over and like a glass of full bodied red wine, appreciated. sometimes they stick, i think, because they sum up what's going on in my life or how i'm mentally processing something. what in my life is superflous? anger, rage, frustration, betrayal, disappointment(at myself and others)confusion, and loss. now how do i rid myself of these "superflous" emotions? "eliminate the negative, accentuate the positive." isn't that so nancy reagan? "just say no!" it can't be that easy because all these feelings cause pain. i wish i could pick them off like pieces of lint. there would be so much lint that i could make a soft blanket. then i could wrap up my inexorable pain and comfort it. i could hold and cradle it. rock it to sleep. but i can't nurse it. i can't feed these emotions anymore. but, i will savour that full bodied glass of red wine, swirl it 'round, look at the viscosity staining the curve of the glass,inhale the fruit and get a different phrase. CARPE DIEM

A watched pot never boils

I had one of those days yesterday. You know. When your still upset about some occurance from the day before, that has gone unresolved or not discussed. Then everything sort of builds and boils over because the heat is still on the stove. The feelings of panic. Then it gets really interesting. What is the next thing that will set me off? Dirty laundry, kitchen not cleaned or done half assed, dirty floors, books and papers everywhere. Mind you, I have four kids, three of them very capable, albeit lazy teens, and one very obstinate nine year old. This of course has nothing to do with the unresolved stuff, it just fans the flame of frustration. I better figure out what I'm going to do with myself. How do I start putting together the next chapter of me? The last few years have been straight out of a Stephen King novel. I need to work. I have nothing to show for what I am "talented" at. My old pastor(creep)used to say "what's in your hand?". Which is really funny becaause he left us empty handed and my husband still gives him ten percent plus of our income. That's for another blog. Anywho, he meant what can you do know with what you have to make money(the irony of course being that he would get a chunk out of it.) I digress, again. So i do have a way to make money but my hearts not in it. The failure monster. Or I go back to school in the event my marriage falls apart and I have to take care of myself. Then again, somebodys got to do it. I guess I'll see what tomorrow brings.

plaster and lathe

it's a drizzle and spit sort of rain day in new jersey. cnn is on and i'm in my bed, shih tzu rolling on her back in utter joy of just being in the moment. i read The Call of The Wild one night via e book. i couldn't sleep, too jazzed with effexor and prozac ( my dr's tinkering with my brain chemistry )this read makes you think about how loyal dogs are(i have three)

they are loved like humans in our house. but the book really gets to the essence of their primordial instincts. they will gve their lives just for being shown kindness. i just saw a news banner on cnn, baby clinging to life after being found in toilet in S.C. i mean, what the f-ck? isn't that where excrament is supposed to go? can you imagine if this baby survives, one day googling his plight? that's a call for major
therapy. to say the least.

my life is a lot like plaster and lathe. my husband, a general contractor, was talking about ripping it out of an older home. it's what walls used to be made of. strips of wood perhaps three inches in width and maybe three to six feet long, are nailed east to west and then covered with plaster somtimes mixed with horse hair. anyway he found termite infestation. it makes my skin crawl.

we see a smooth wall, painted, maybe a picture here and there. childrens finger smudges, doodling by some picasso in denial. but underneath, family secrets, viscious fights, infidelities, illness, financial woes, tears, laughter, noises of love making, decisions made and sometimes regretted, sometimes celebrated. we can't know what the plaster and lathe will never reveal. with the exception of termites.....

not guilty by" Association"

well we were found not to be abusive foster parents by the AIUI or whatever the hell they call themselves. now what? oh the licensing division of DYFS will be over on Monday for a friendly chat. we'll be finding out if they are still allowing us to be a "resource home" for foster/adopt children. oh, yeah by the way we have four kids. did i forget to mention that three are adopted? i thought i might have to share that insignificant info....

we are told that we will probably never get Latoya and Jakeela back. that is so final. i don't have any control on the outcome of their lives. i would do anything to see, hold them, tell them that i'm so very sorry that they were ripped from my home because i couldn't take one more phone call from the agency. one more incident that would infest my home that would disturb and upset my other kids one more episode of me falling apart and literally crumbling to the floor in anguish.

i have to pray God's perfect will. He knows best.

i want a do over. so many things in my life need a do over. i could right all the mistakes. would have, should have, could have. but then again the fear of a do over is that you get one shot. what if i fail again?

at this juncture of my life, staring down the barrel of 47, this is a very daunting subject. i thought i would be together by now. but i still fuck up. my intentions are well intended, but.....

i know i need a lot of healing. im still realing from the past 2 years. i need a therapist but i dont trust many people. then you have to dredge up all that gunk. how far back do we have to go? can't i just wake up without this gnawing feeling of utter shame and paralyzing defeat?

my sister's keeper

my sister is my keeper.  she keeps me laughing.  she keeps me talking.  she keeps me in her heart.  she keeps me sane (as much as is humanly possible at this juncture of my life ) and junk is an apt play on words.  she keeps the joy of small children in my life .  my niece lola and my adopted nephew gibson ,are just lovely mirecles to savor  (i've just lost two through the DYFS organization.)
 we were planning on adopting jakeela and her half sister latoya.  they are lost to us forever because of beaurocracy ,dishonesty, and our being too transparent in the system.  that is all i can say right now because im dealing with the death of two little girls, no matter how many mistakes we made, that i truly loved.

she keeps me plied with alchol.  she keeps me  by being silly and living in the moment.  she keeps me with kind acts of a naked outdoor jaccuzzi followed by a massage(evev though we got a fit of the giggles because we think alike at times).

she keeps listening when im suicidal and end up in the hospital with zero health insurance and my husdand of 22 yrs doesnt come to comfort me.

sshe keeps me when im feeling so shameful after bankrupting my dream of owning a day spa.

she keeps me when she spends her day setting up this blog site because i dont possess the will or want to do much.

she keeps me by visiting nj and inviting me the refuge of her safe and cozy home in ma.

she keeps me in her thoughts and prayers........