It’s been real. As the weekend comes to a close that is all I can say to sum it up. As I am pretty off kilter myself it is hard to make much of the weekend other than insurmountable highs and intolerable lows.

Joe’s gig, a definite high. He was so on, and although I’m so off recently, his talent and energy made for a universal high on Friday night. No one in attendance could deny having a phenomenal evening. There is an unmistakable beauty in love, whether it is romantic love, or love of art, when it is present, you just know. It moves me to see him in his element. It’s bittersweet celebrity is, there really is no moderation, no boundaries, no filter, and much like our weekend, the journey has been paved in gold and goat shit.

Saturday, not so swank. My symbiotic high is over and the nagging bitch that is depression is weighing ever so heavily on my shoulders. Boxes of this school year’s curriculum for both children lay unopened in the living room. I’ve unfinished craft projects on the kitchen table, laundry, dusting…now, if I could just locate my motivation.This week I’ve contacted three therapists for appointments and none have returned my call, I missed work on Saturday and it is unlikely that I will make it tomorrow as the thought of leaving home and dealing with the public has grown increasingly more frightening as the week has progressed. I’m feeling kind of like a piece of furniture in the house as everyone is going on with their usual routine over and around me. There is controversy brewing as the perils of puberty have also climaxed over the weekend, and along with my motivation my cape is amiss; I haven’t the wherewith all to rescue myself much less anyone else. Man and Manchild will have to manage without my perspective this time. Yael is asking me about Hannah Montana pop up, something…aaah to be 8 right now…oh,no-wait then, I have to deal with the parents, their baggage and addictions, huh? Yeah, scratch that, bad idea. But, perhaps to be 8 and be her…now that’s better.

Things are just not at their best right now, and I’m growing increasingly frustrated with the fact that I am not in a position to “fix” it on my own. I don’t function well in a collaborative setting. Trust if I could talk to myself for 45 minutes minutes get to the root of whatever it is that is ailing me, write a prescription for something that will give me enough energy to have that conversation with myself and get out of this fucking rut, I would.



Well, where do I start? There is quite a bit going on this week (pauses to make an Alka-Seltzer on the rocks). Let’s see yesterday, no Monday I finally made a decision regarding my recent mental state and opted to begin a course of therapy again, so I’ve been working on that. And not a minute too soon I might add since yesterday I was at the peak of my mounting frustration with the in-bred bureaucrats at the Evil Blue Octagon. I’ve come to realize that there exists this microcosm of misery; a handful of people that make the Evil Blue Octagon bearable-yes bearable not unbearable and then there are the powers that be. Misery truly does love company at this company.

I had a 30 minute meeting in which my supervisor was speaking in tongues,otherwise known as “talk-offs” by the abducted. You can identify them easily as they are housed in the larger sarcophagus known as an office. Most of their time is spent speaking in aforementioned tongues on handsets as opposed to headsets which are reserved for use by plebeians. Anyway, during this meeting I was (at least from what I could glean as I have somehow managed to escape implantation of the simian training translation device) admonished for thinking. Yes, I did say thinking. It appears that I am performing in a way that meets the needs of the business as opposed to scheisting, disconcerting and to put it in layman’s terms basically pissing off clients. That is not the Evil Blue Octagon way. What was I thinking? How could I not be expected to annoy the shit out of people, calling them incessantly and repeating the same rehearsed bank banter ad nauseaum at the trusted financial institution which prides themselves as the place “where the right relationship is everything”. Pardon my stupidity in assuming that said relationship might just so happen to be a good one. Now, it is all coming to me. Not!

What has come to me is that I need to begin a course of therapy for my ongoing sometimes crippling bout, sorry snit with depression so that I maintain a level of consistency in my everyday life which allows me to perform at maximum capacity. I have spent many many years investing in the prime real estate between my ears and will not, can not be beaten into submission for fucking health insurance! It is insane to think that my inability to do shit that doesn’t make sense (Note: seriously, consider saving money in your sock drawer)has literally blacklisted me from existing in peace! I am tempestuous, at times belligerent, histrionic, but all times brilliant. It is very difficult for me to do something which defies logic. I challenge anyone reading this to right now, at your desk, on a bike, bench, bus wherever you are reading this blog-bear down and shit in your pants. Seriously, do it. What’s wrong? No, seriously-why can’t you do it?! Okay, what if I say you have to do it?! If your eyebrows are raised and you are laughing at this nonsense, you fully understand me. If you just shit yourself, well now I command you to hold your breath until you die because you’re one of them. Back to the others, some time long ago shortly after you landed you learned, gleaned, acquiesced that shitting in one’s pants is not acceptable behavior for the adult population, yes? It has nothing to do with socio-economics, culture etceteras. It is just never right to shit on yourself deliberately. Have I made my point? Well,as luck would have it I am one of a handful of employees that are not walking around with a heap of dung in their pants, hence I must sit in misery until my bowels break. Once that’s done they will teach me to speak in tongues and then perhaps, just maybe they will revisit my resume where my tenure as upper level management and glowing recommendations and accolades will be considered.It is just the Evil Blue Octagon way.

I have a better plan, and it begins with some hard work as all successful endeavors do, but I am going to commit myself to battling some inner demons and really diligently pursue other options. Moreover, I intend to use the bureaucracy to further my plan. I will never make a difference in their magnanimous monopoly, but I can change the way my mental energy is monopolized. It is no wonder their benefits package is so competitive and attractive when they literally make you sick.I swear if I had any money I’d withdraw it all right now! laughs

On a lighter note, good things coming in, going on and out.

I am about 85% of the way supplies-wise with Pretty In Peace. I have a few more items, tools to acquire before I head to the “lab”. It is amazing how this project, the fluidity of it, is happening. I think it really all began in April with my “no foods with a face” discipline and it has meshed rather cohesively with my yoga practice and even the recent events at home.The line is vegan, no shells, pearls, leather, animal based adhesives etceteras. Only fine metals to be used in the LIVE collection, although the LOVE and LAUGH collections will feature some plated metals and re-purposed plastic items. I will be up and running in time for Holiday 2007 with the grace of the universe. I encourage any and everyone to buy peaceful, handmade,local and re-purposed. If you have any old beaded costume jewelry, buttons, charms, please contact me as I may be interested in purchasing or trading for vintage findings. looneybirdmoonmaiden@hotmail.com.

What else? Joe and I are regularly practicing restorative yoga together. This would have been unheard of even six months ago for reasons that I can only speculate are tied to ego. Well as it would turn out the class is comprised of mostly seniors with the exception of the two of us, and one other yogi who could go either way. Point being, the universe made an easy-in for us to share this time and this practice that we otherwise would not have shared. To think we’re sitting in savasana in this room at our local YMCA with people twice our age, of all different races, social statuses, backgrounds with one thing in mind: the 8 Limbs of Yoga. I strongly believe that we would never have seized the opportunity to know or even notice the existence of one another had it not been for this experience as yogis. And I sheepishly concede that I am rather aesthetically driven so the thought of this particular yoga class had it been accurately represented before it presented itself just would not have happened.The experience has brought me closer to nature and its natural order. I had been on the path but not quite walking it, you know. I have seen the graceful side of growing older and moreover how beautifully we can make do with what we are given.

Yael is back! I had written just about a week ago of an unfortunate incident with our youngest child. Well, she’s been restored. It took a little while and I’m quite frankly not over it. I was really hurting about the incident and briefly set back while doing laundry as I came across the clothing she had on that day and her underwear,there were dried blades of grass and twig lodged into the fibers. I could just picture her being forced in to the water. The sight just brought back all of the pain of disappointment and frustration. But, she is feeling great and she’s back out enjoying her eight year old existence. It isn’t always easy to turn the other cheek and we don’t always receive the credit we deserve in doing so, but nothing worth doing is ever easy.When in doubt, choose peace, and Diet Coke…lots of it!



I’ve been remiss in my blogging, not for lack of events but sheer lack of energy.Today was rather uneventful, I did my bid at the Evil Blue Octagon. Package Man assumed position in the lounge, appears he doesn’t speak…I don’t know if he has been muted as a result of the bungled man parts or just part of his angry dude schtick, but yeah he doesn’t talk, go figure.

My Zumba class was cancelled, they’re really trying to drive me out of my gourd at the YMCA. First Yoga Joe injures himself and that class is cancelled and now Zumba…”Hello, I am on a mission to fight the Wretched Suburban Sag…work with me people!” Truth is, I ate a vat of spaghetti with mushrooms today and was really looking forward to shaking some of it off.I guess that’s what I get for being greedy, eh? Had I eaten it yesterday I could have worked it all off,cleaning up behind “Hello Shitty”.

Hello Shitty is one of the names our neighbor’s kitten earned during a brief stay at our house on Sunday morning. Shortly after Joe broke the garbage disposal.(okay he didn’t break it but he rendered it a bit more useless than it already was, if that makes sense laughs) He went out front and heard the kitten yelping by the bushes so he brought her in. It was very hot yesterday, I’m guessing about 110 degrees and the poor little shitty-cat was hot and dehydrated and well, apparently needed some damn Imodium. So he comes in and asks if I’ll give the guest some water while he finishes fixing the garbage disposal. (I’m totally teasing Joe is a very talented artist, he’s just no Schneider) Anyway, although I’m not really up for company, I figure it is okay since I don’t have to talk to it and even better, it won’t talk to me. I get shitty-cat a nice bowl of water and while she’s drinking I notice that her cute little rhinestone collar is wrapped under her right arm which is probably what slowed her down and got her separated from the rest of her shitty-cat cohorts. Immediately upon seeing the collar, I knew she belonged to those neighbors. Everyone and I do mean everyone has a neighbor that has too many kids, too many roaches or too many pets, you know the type. It’s been about 10 minutes now and she’s still lapping up water I’m not particularly intrigued so I return to my cave. I should have known that everyone else would grow bored of the Adventures of Shitty-Cat just as I did! A few minutes later I swear I hear some activity in my closet, and wouldn’t you know it, the stinking little animal has now mustered up enough energy to go hitch her ass in the corner of my closet and shit! And to boot she doesn’t stop as I’m carrying her from my room and screaming, she just keeps right on shitting. Seriously, I don’t know what the hell she ate, but it was pretty damn funky for such a cute little guy/girl whatever the little funk box is. Needless, to say I had to shampoo my carpet, not exactly what I had planned, but such is life.

Joe did take Hello Shitty back “home” shortly thereafter, citing that he didn’t want me to go “crazy”, and in all honesty I probably would have. She/he, it was really very cute, but I had had enough.It was fun and funky while it lasted. I have a new appreciation for Beau as a result of this visit, I gave him a bath and conditioned his hair later that evening. Go get yourself a guinea pig, you’ll be glad you did.



I’m feeling more emotionally exhausted than usual today, and largely disconnected from the “here now”. Somehow I overslept and didn’t make my yoga class which was the final blow considering I felt myself spinning yesterday and was looking forward to it. The level of concentration required to sustain the asanas makes it literally impossible to focus on anything else. I needed that.

I watched a program on one of those health and learning channels some time ago.Scientists have come up with an implantation device for severely depressed patients which allows them to press a button which releases a stimulus tied to or somehow catalytic to serotonin. Sounds like a winner. It was pleasant discovery considering we live in a society that focuses a great deal on physical strength and stamina and very little on mental. Far more people are concerned with heart attacks than psychosis. Sad, since the brain is the most powerful muscle in the human body and without it’s instruction to do so your heart would not beat.

Today I’m feeling like my brain ran a marathon without training-not a good feeling. I’m also feeling my foiled attempts to slow it down have led to further exhaustion. Somehow I am going to one day have to figure out how to maintain more control. What was once my best asset is over time becoming an adversary. I must admit that I am frightened of eventually going completely insane. If we’ve come to discover Alzheimer’s to be nothing more than brain atrophy,what lies ahead for those who are hyper-extended and overloaded? Surely, there are drugs which subdue the brain’s activity, unfortunately-they have yet to come up with one which allows you to be happy,creative and bright at the same time. It seems your ability to conjure creative thought and processes are tied to the right side of your brain which also controls emotional response. You’re either all here or nothing at all.It’s a dark place to be, struggling within and you’ll seldom get the support and understanding that you might receive if you had a more mainstream illness…no one ever suggests you, “Take it easy.” if you’re say, suffering from an AIDS related illness or otherwise terminal physical ailment.

I’ve some projects and events in the works that I’d really like to devote more time to, if I could clear the shadows long enough. I’m pushing myself, I know but sometimes I have to in order to differentiate fatigue from depression. It can be as chameleonesque as Oprah. Note: (Before some fanatical Oprah-ite attempts to contact me)Get your own blog and pay homage, I do not accept comments. Thanks. Truly, some days I can sleep indefinitely and never feel quite rested enough, awakening with the same groggy lethargy that put me to sleep in the first place, and then there days when a call or company will boost my spirits. Nothing seems to work since Thursday evening. And I’m certain it’s not some, “Oh I’m old” pathetic birthday blues, because I’m reflectively grateful for all of my years, even the bad ones.

I drafted out some of my mission statement/product branding specs for my jewelry line today. I’m pleased with that. I also got working on some altered tins which will eventually be greeting cards in a can…pretty pleased about that as well. So, I’m moving just not at maximum capacity.Tonight is the new moon in Cancer, typically symbolic of increased awareness and creativity, now that is a grand prospect. Let’s see what it brings for me…and Joe. He has a gig next weekend, it’s the first time in a while that he’s performed LIVE. He’s done a few Internet radio shows, but a live set is completely different. C’mon Moon, show me whatcha got!


>34 at a glance


Oooooh Hoooo! Wop, wop, cabbage patch, pump it left, pump it right, shimmy, shimmy, to the left, to the right, now sing, “It is my birthday, it is my birthday!” So far so good…

7:00 am-1st attempt to be disciplined and get in one hour of yoga and meditation

7:01 am-“Ok…at 8:00”

7:40-phone rings-Iva wishes me a happy birthday-she sounds more excited than I am…it’s a good day, huh?

8:00 am-sits up at edge of bed, rubs eyes, stretches, walks to front of house, opens fridge, sips diet coke, sighs and returns to bed…

8:33 am-guilt sets in

8:35 am– rationalization commences, “Shit it’s my birthday…I can do yoga on Friday…oh but I have a class on Saturday…that’s too much…ugh”

8:50– rises, drops pajama bottoms on floor, picks up yoga pants, brushes teeth, applies pimple prophylaxis regimen and walks to front of house. Sips more Diet Coke, stacks floor pillows at sides of sofa, pushes coffee table against far wall, inserts Dosha Yoga DVD and wakes Yael…

8:56 or so-anger starts to set in as DVD is not working…

9:00 ish-Joe comes in to put out potential morning “fire” as I pace the living room and sigh more

9:10-I exclaim, “Well that sucks because that one was like new.The irony is, it actually is specifically designed to cool my Pitta energy…gotta love the universe, huh?

9:15-mats are in place and Yael and I begin the Max Strom Strength, Grace Healing DVD

10:00 am- we’re done, Yael gives me a birthday card she has drawn…her artistic capabilities are improving-I’m really quite impressed, I adore this little girl…I check my e-mails. Lisa sent an E-greeting. Roxanne complimented my writing, they’re sweet! I smile.

10:20- Joe arrives with gorgeous coral Gerbera daisies and other goodies that I haven’t seen yet.. I tell him that I have gone over my birthday budget with last night’s online shopping spree, he raises his eyebrows and I advise him it was only $1.41 over…his eyebrows settle again. I laugh.

10:23- I trim and arrange my flowers-I’ll photograph them later. I ask Joe if we’re going out for pizza tonight, he says, “Yes”.

10:37- My breakfast is just about ready…

10:40- Sits down for breakfast with Yael and Joe, pushes pile of craft items to one side of table

11:00– Clears table, Joe retreats to office for nextdimensionmusic.com stuff

11:30- Getting restless, go to see what Joe is doing now…same thing, so I eat a bowl of cereal and invite him to accompany me for a nap in “5 minutes”.

12:00ish- Joe and I are attempting to take a nap, Yael is “hiding” (whilst giggling incessantly at the foot of my bed. Now she’s in the bed and she’s climbing on us and kissing us and laughing some more…Jordan is still asleep in his cave

12:05- or so-I ask Yael to “scram”

2:00- I emerge from my nap…Joe has resumed doing nextdimensionmusic.com stuff, I wander around aimlessly for a few minutes. Joe calls me to see what he has done and asks if I’d like to go get more stuff from the store, I agree.

2:10- I mentally run current status of credit card balances and checking account balances through my head. I make a few calls and payments by phone

2:40ish We’re headed outdoors, I check the phone for messages, Roxanne called, Marilyn’s coming-“Cool”. The kids are arguing about who ate the last cinnamon bun, Yael has a light blue chenille throw over her head, it is her new hair, she says…it doesn’t tangle. I shake my head and grimace.

3:00- We’re out, I open the door and it is just ridiculously hot, we enter the car and I literally feel nauseated by the heat. I complain to Joe that he needs to garage the car, he mumbles something about how annoying it is to go in and out of the garage and starts the car.

3:12- We enter JoAnn and I pick up some sterling silver wire for a Pretty In Peace project (a line of peace and nature inspired jewelry I will be launching shortly).

3:26- We enter Safeway for beer and pizza ingredients, we discuss wheat beers briefly. Joe picks up Skinny Dip and then we switch it for Sunshine Wheat Beer.

3:30- We leave the store and some asshole mistakes the parking lot for the PIR (Phoenix Int’l Raceway) nearly resulting in a melee between his Suburban a really tiny luxury car piled with red-faced freaks.

3:46- We are home, Jordan is evicted from the kitchen PC for being shirtless, he pleads that he was bout to take a shower and I inquire if he will be “taking one in the kitchen” with raised eyebrows and a look that says, “that is a rhetorical question“. Joe chuckles…

3:48- Siobhan calls to wish me a happy birthday and remind me that I’m an “Old lady”.

Have I mentioned that my birthday ensemble consists of old yoga pants with bleach stains on them, uncombed hair and a workout tee? Yeah…that’s my birthday couture so far. I will probably put on an old pair of Jordan’s shorts and an oversized tee for the evening’s festivities.

4:16- I finish updating the am portion of the blog while sipping Alka Seltzer…

4:20-Walking around, straightening up, giving orders…

4:30-I took a shower and put on some shorts and a tee, Yael says I look beautiful and tries to convince me to comb my hair just as she heads for the bathroom

4:45-I call my grandmother to wish her a happy birthday, we chat for a bit about the Bureau of Vital Records and how much it has improved since my aunt was listed as a boy on her birth certificate and another aunt who at 76 has lived her entire life as Virginia although her birth certificate reads Victoria… laughs and shakes head.

5:00-Lisa calls we chat for a bit about how our day is going, I speak with Em who wishes me a happy birthday,Lisa gets back on and now we have a brief wheat beer discussion, the conversation continues about nothing specific, Roxanne calls her on the other line while we’re chatting…

Long silence, huh-well Lisa’s phone is a piece of shit and we were disconnected and unable to resume connectivity for 4 minutes…she needs a new network!

5:20ish-Joe’s taking the pizza out of the oven and setting the cakes on the table. We start eating, it’s quiet with the exception of Yael; I think she is talking about a Disney show or movie, I don’t know…she’s just talking without breathing it seems…

5:49- Jordan has some Pop Culture game show on and Joe and I are discussing celebrity and how the wave of reality TV and the fact that anyone can make a movie/video has changed the shape of TV and eventually the Academy…Joe believes all will go the way of Sundance and there will be a few underground elitists…

5:58-Something about the chupacabra is mentioned on TV and a brief discussion ensues; I ask, “Whatever happened with that” Joe says, “It’s still around.” Jordan says he’s seen pictures of it to which I add, “I’ve seen pictures of Marge Simpson too doesn’t mean she’s real …”

6:05- I’m done with my cake Joe clears the table as Yael is still finishing up. As Jordan finishes he exclaims, “I won!” in an effort to set Yael off since she was unaware of the contest…

6:17- I step over to the PC to update my blog and Joe and the kids are in front of the TV

6:24- Iva calls, I can’t really make out what she’s saying…we’re trying to get a family card game organized…

6:40- After several minutes of studying the instructions we’ve decided that a new game is probably not in the cards for tonight (no pun intended)

Everyone is kinda just loafing around a little dull as the brain cell energy has been usurped trying to digest pizza, pound cake and ice cream!

7:30- Okay second ironic occurrence of the day…Sunshine beer should be called Schizo beer cause I’m in the foulest mood right now…hmmm…

7:45-Mood swing increases in intensity as every fuckin’ movie that I might be interested in started an hour ago or “this showing is no longer available” My TV aptitude is sub-par so just what the hell does that mean?

8:00- (I married the right man) Just as I am on the verge of breaking something, Joe suggests he go out and get a movie from the grocery store and his willingness alone to appease me calms the beast a bit and I opt to watch one of the existing film choices at home; Harry Potter or Nacho Libre. At least I have a great deal of respect and admiration for J.K. Rowlings literary expertise and so Harry Potter it is (says with British accent)

8:20-We start the movie and I’m surprisingly pleased as having read a couple of the books that I originally bought when Jordan was younger, I am abreast of the basics and the general character relationships throughout..Yael is still talking…

9:00- Pause the movie for more Alka Seltzer and get a load of laundry started while it is off-peak hours for APS, our electric bill was pretty hefty this month!

10:00- Evening blog update ends…resume movie watching

10:48-Movie ends and it’s time to prepare for my four hour sentence at the Evil Blue Octagon. All in all, it was a pleasant birthday. Thanks everyone! I still have sandy brown roots, and my ID has expired, but look at all that I did accomplish…laughs…

11:18-Editing is complete…worries briefly as I’m quite tired and wondering if all of the necessary corrections have been made. Reflects on the movie for a moment and thinks, “I really need that pensieve” (pensieve: a cauldron-like object in Harry Potter Goblet of Fire which enables one to extract unpleasant thoughts and worries from the brain via wand)

Now that I’ve paid my bills, I wonder if I can charge one of those babies…


How about a little mathematics, okay? Today is the 11th of July 2007, that means tomorrow is the 12th. Do you follow so far? Good. (if not, log off now) My birthday is July 12th, my current New York State ID expires on July 12th 2007. My plan on July 6,2007 was to begin reading the AZ State Driver’s Manual and obtain a permit by the 12th. A plan that would require due diligence as I’d be learning an entirely new skill in 6 days. Okay, well I have yet to open the manual and I have 68 pages of material to now absorb in about 6 waking dreaded DMV operational hours. Any suggestions? (don’t be smug) I am fully aware of the ability to simply acquire an ID and postpone the whole learner’s permit til such time as I am fully prepared, but I was kinda liking the whole do it on your birthday deal. I am fully opposed however, to failing. Contrary to Josue’s Jeremiad I do not fail-except Mrs. Nathan’s 7th grade pre-algebra course which was partly a result of a language barrier…I speak English. Favorite guy says, “Take it and if you fail you can take it up to three times”…I don’t know, for me any endeavor entered into under such pretense is tantamount to, “Doc try it, if he/she dies there are more patients in the ER” I just cannot bear the pressure. Perfection is paralyzing! Decisions, decisions.

I’ve come a long way from my beginning as a paralyzed perfectionist. Much of my recent creative projects have been a concerted effort to remove myself from the confines of anything structural. There are no rights/wrongs in art, only art. My yoga practice as well…laughs boy if i could do half the shit experienced yogis do, I’d have a lot of money (and probably twice as many kids) laughs harder. Seriously though, to one that seemingly excels at everything where parameters are well-defined, operating in an area where there are none or they are unknown is frightening. It’s like flying a plane versus driving a car. Many experienced drivers would shudder at the thought of piloting a plane. My fears are similar.

Looks over at time on microwave and thinks, “Where the hell is Jordan”. Case in point, parenting there are no books, no classes, no real parameters-he just walked in-unless the state takes them away or you kill ’em, well then…yeah, you probably are not really good at it. He’s lucky, too…4 minutes after the hour. I, early on before falling hopelessly in love-had no intentions on engaging in the uncertainty of parenthood. I could control myself and that seemed enough for me. Well, by 1988 my first encounter with the unknown; romantic love. No guidelines there either. You kinda just wing it and assume if he/she keeps calling you’re okay. In 1991 we get married-oh good cause at least they give you some rules for that…or do they? “For richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health from this day forward til death do you part”. Okay, no what? How does one get rich…poor seems simple enough. Does sickness apply to sick of each other too? How do we get through this and not kill each other. Aaargh, the unknowns! For the love of Guerlain, give me guidelines!

I’ve come to call this state of existence “Magoo”, yup just “Magoo”. If you’ve ever seen the cartoon, this guy manages to escape death and dismemberment by way of sheer ignorance. It’s not the ideal scenario, but it appears to work. Clearly, it is not the technique I use for parenting, although I have a few times. Hell, so have your parents! Don’t think the popular phrase, “Because I told you so,” has any profound meaning other than..well, “Magoo”. It is a method for deflecting the possibility that you may have evolved into a formidable opponent skilled at the art of debate since the last time they said no. Highly unlikely, but one never knows. Perhaps, I can Magoo my way through the exam? Maybe the DMV Deity will shine down on me with some infinite wisdom? The Birthday Buddha? Luck? Will I cave and stay up all night cramming and have Stewie eyes in my NEW! photo ID? Ugh…this sucks!


>Love, Beer and Breastmilk


Now I’m not sure I’ve mentioned this previously, and if not-bookmark it: the only thing I hate more than stupid people are their offspring. This is not an idiosyncrasy, it is a deep-rooted philosophy. Just ask my worldly, pubescent son, anytime a new girl calls I ask, “Well, can she read?!”

My children have a special advantage because my husband and I get it. We understand karma, we believe and closely abide by the rules of the universe; under different headings, but the same end result. This makes for well-rounded, non-violent, socially intelligent children also known as “victims”. My daughter, because she was born during the height of my social experimentation-even, more. Yael (pronounced Yah’ell) was nursed until she self-weaned at 3.5 years old, she is naturally intuitive and completely secure and at one with herself. She is the type of child that everyone comments on. I cried at a parent-teacher conference when the teacher stood up behind her hardwood desk, grabbed by hand in both of hers and praised the job I’ve done “raising such a conscientious, good person”. You can see why I might just be a tad livid when my prized contribution to the universe appears at the front door sopping wet and sobbing after she was submerged in the puddle of an irrigation project in our local green belt at the hands of her “former friend”.

For the past 120 days, I have been stridently moving toward an ultimate goal of Ahimsa. For years, I have advocated against spanking and more recently war, but many of my subconscious thoughts were in contradiction to this kind of peaceable existence. I’ve been working hard at being a better, more balanced, loving person inside and out. I needn’t tell you that I resort to my primitive animal kingdom instincts when someone…anyone, fucks with my family.

When Yael came in, one look at her and I knew just who it was. She’d participated in some random act of cruelty last year around this time and more recently had lied about something trivial but enough for me to have the friendship selection discussion with Yael just this past weekend. Perhaps, it was Yael’s decision to separate herself that led to this, I’m not sure but I do know that it took everything and I mean everything in me to not go outside…(Ok, well I did go outside). But, what I wanted to do was snatch her up and shake all of the high fructose corn syrup filled Otter Pops right out of her emaciated, ugly little ass. And, I would have if she had been within reach when I emerged. (And had Joe not called me “Cheryl Part II” as I headed for the door) Cheryl, my mother at 54 years old, this woman will still engage in an all out, “Go-get-your-motha‘-and-I’ll-kick-her-ass- too” fest. It is instinctive, the intrinsic nature of the species. “See the cute little bear cubs? Nice, now go on about your business ’cause their mother will slap your whole damn head off!” Got it? Okay, good.

I’ve always known, no matter how oddly she treats me that my mother has my back and I’ve carried that onto my own children but in an adjusted light. I love my children infinitely, I fervently (ad nauseam, just ask Puberty Man) preach compassion, respect and self-respect. In most cases they subconsciously practice avoidance where dangerous and/or parasitic social situations are an element. But, like everyone else, they will have their moments. The split second decision NOT to react, although gravely unsettling for the confrontational aggressor in me will pay off. Yael does not understand now, but she will. She will undeniably revere and respect the laws of the universe just as the rest of us here at home do. We’ve mustered up a little more love in our house today. Similar to the way you’d gather around someone who’d been attacked by a virus, cancer or any other draining encounter.

I guess the painful part as a mother is that Yael seemed to place more emphasis on the lost friendship resulting from the incident rather than the incident itself. There really is no easy way to express to her at 8 years old, that it is the other child that should be mourning a great loss. There is no easy way to squelch the pain in the pit of my stomach knowing that this is just one of many in a series of hurt feelings, abuse and rejection she will face in a lifetime. Cheryl had the best of intentions but it just isn’t feasible to fight the world, and it isn’t just. It is a battle no one wins when you really examine the outcome.

There was a time in my life when the closest person to me threw me in a proverbial puddle and rejected me. I fought tooth and nail (What is the history of the meaning behind that expression, do you know?). I formed every weapon of defense and destruction possible and the situation went on to grow bigger and uglier. It metastasized like a cancer and literally consumed me. I spent so much time and energy fighting that I left little time for love; self-love or any other love. I attempted suicide that year but I succeeded at something far greater. In one of my prescription drug filled hazes I stumbled into a card shop and bought a post card that reads:

“I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love.” ~Mother Teresa

I’m a natural cynic, so believe me when I say this is the only way to go. Think about it, when someone pisses you off, disappoints you rejects you, etc. We engage in this kind of eye for an eye warfare that leaves us all blind (read your Gandhi people). When you are true to yourself and either perfectly love the opposition in all of their imperfection or love yourself enough to not subject yourself to an abusive or otherwise unhealthy relationship, things seem to just work themselves out. If you’ve ever had a break-up and said, “Oh great, now that I’m single nobody wants me”. It’s because your aura is saying, “Look at me, I suck, I’m a leper, etc”. But when you put your size 2T jeans on and a little “war-paint” (Iva, thanks! I love you) and do that little, “Go me” dance in the mirror-it’s a miraculous transformation! Trust me, it’s not the jeans, (Even if they are Gap low-rise boot-cut stretch-don’t be fooled) it is the LOVE. I am truly convinced that love, beer and breast milk are the cure for everything. Stephanie says it is water…I don’t know I gotta challenge her on that one.

Yael spent the day watching DisneyChannel with Joe in an old pair of my 3″ Enzo Angiolini pumps. She’s about to have cake and ice cream with Jordan and tomorrow morning she’ll join me for yoga. We’re gonna love her through this time and all of the others. You can’t fight fire with fire but, breathe easy fire does eventually consume itself… always.

I felt cathartic writing this, it will be one of the entries in Yael’s Red Book-a collection of poems, quotes and stories I’ve been compiling for presentation at her Menses Celebration. Now, go kiss your kids, call your mom, push your chair away from your desk and do a quick “Go me” dance, the tough times (and stupidity, hopefully) won’t last long.



Today was a shit-filled day from its inception. It started at about 2:00 am with a wretched throbbing headache that went on until it was time to leave the comforts of my home and pay restitution in the form of financial consulting for the “Evil Blue Octagon” for providing my adoring family with health insurance. I need to move to Canada, seriously.

First stop for poop-scooping is the Park & Ride, although I clearly stated that I wanted to board the 7:40 bus the Favorite Guy has it in his mind that I will board the crowded-ass, standing room only 7:20 bus. For no other reason than, he is “Itinerary Man”, (said in a superhero-esque tone) and his mental plan for the day prevails everyday and everywhere. It’s been an ongoing issue. But at 7:20 am, feeling like I have a Jimmy Choo stiletto heel lodged in, not one, but both temples-not a battle I feel prepared to engage. Now, I get on the bus and although my day is off to a pretty shitty start it isn’t nearly as shitty as the breath of the man panting heavily over my left shoulder the entire ride.

I managed to arrive without being noticed by the powers that be, which is a plus when you arrive for your 6:00 am shift at 8:00 am. The next few hours were seemingly uneventful as I was coming down from bus ride rage. I remained unscathed by the nonsensical yammerings of my clients. I think at that point I was grateful that I could only hear and not smell the shit they were talking.

Fast forward to lunch and the day is getting just a bit more flowery! I stopped at Yasda Bento picked up a vegetable bowl, loaded it up with hot sauce accompanied by a vat of Diet Coke and met Avery up at the employee lounge for eatin’s. Avery is a co-worker of mine, he’s a nice kid with a fairly positive outlook on life, but have no fear I’m working on him. Lunch went well, Avery shared his weekend adventures with a faulty garage door and just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, in walks “Package Man”. Package Man has been an ongoing source of amusement for me since I noticed his existence about a year ago. This guy wears the absolute tightest Levi’s Dockers khakis hiked up to, I’d say about the third rib from the bottom. As a result his “man-parts” are burgeoning in an unsightly hump, or in his case “package” in his pants. I try to be grown-up, really I do. But, every time he enters the lounge I’m forced into uncontrollable laughter, which is heightened by the fact that he looks thoroughly annoyed all the time. And I’m sure he is with his parts all “a-cram” in the 110 degrees desert heat! Well, Avery can’t partake in all of my Package Man hysterics, because, well-he’s a guy and there’s some rule about guys not looking at other guys packages. I think they teach it in Public Restroom Etiquette 101. Sucks for him, because this shit is hilarious and to boot, he seems to stab his fork into his burnt chicken more aggressively as my laughter continues. What’s he gonna do kick my ass, uh, not in those trousers!

I’m exhausted now. I’m full. I’ve had a good chuckle, it’s almost time to go home but I need a cup of coffee to get me through the next few hours. I go down to the overpriced coffee nook with the vintage pastries. I started calling them vintage when I advised the clerk that the cookies were dated “sell by” last October and she smiled like I was referring to wine, to which I snidely replied, “Oh is that a good year?'” Before neatly putting them back. So I fill my coffee cup and look around quizzically for the skim milk (bad vegan I know but that coffee is lethal on its own). When I ask the store clerk about the skim milk she looks at me like I’ve gone mad and says quite aggressively I might add, “Milk?! We don’t keep that out, it’ll go bad!” So I say to her, in a tone I generally reserve for those under 5 and over 85, “Right, but there are three partially stocked refrigerators in here-why not just stick it in there?” She continues to grow increasingly more belligerent and then she calls the manager who also looks at me like I’m nuts. So, I slam the coffee down and head to the fridge and buy a damn skim milk. As she is ringing me up and totally without a second thought I say to both of them, “I will never buy coffee here again I will sooner burst into flames while walking to Starbucks. This is the worst customer service I have ever received, I walk in, pour coffee and ask for skim milk and you two carry on like I asked for…ear of newt or toe of frog or some shit”! Don’t ask why I quoted MacBeth, I don’t know where that came from! But, yeah I quoted MacBeth and just as I walked off, once again, my head starts to throb. Ugh…



Joe and I went dancing last night! Music and dancing are a huge part of our lives. As artists, business owners, as human beings the need for creative expression through sound and movement is as essential as air, water and Diet Coke!

We went to Joe DiPadova’s Straight No Chaser party at Homme Lounge in Phoenix. Joe’s party is a good damn time, every time. The set is captivating and the captives are fascinating. Joe, as the resident captor remains seemingly aloof of his spiritual leader-esque status among the masses! To the left of me, the Brothers were taking it to church under a hot tin-roof in the deep south, to the right, hippie gypsy types were getting their Woodstock trance wave gig going. The Latin girls were calling on Yemaya with a seductive samba groove and well, the youngsters were “Blake-inating” a la American Idol’s Blake Lewis! I’m not sure what this flowing, one part pop-locking, one part snake charmer dance deal is called, but the kids at Straight No Chaser are all about it. I’m telling ya! I’m sitting here with an odd expression as I type the words kids and youngsters. I’m far from a fossil, but I’ve been a club-goer for two decades now, and as dance styles evolve I’ve come to realize the difference; these kids don’t sit down, they can’t sit down..and I’m glad cause, shit I need a seat!

Favorite guy, (Joseph of Next Dimension Music) spins Straight No Chaser at Homme Lounge-138 W. Camelback Road on Friday July 20th. If you’re in the area come out and dance with me, I won’t be sitting that night! For more info looneybirdmoonmaiden@hotmail.com or check the event listing at http://www.nextdimensionmusic.com/.


>I’m nuts, anxious and disorganized today. I so could’ve used some yoga this morning but Mr. Jenkins beat me to the spot at the center of the living room. It seems I’ve been losing many a battle for that spot since Joe went and got DirecTV! (growls and shows teeth like vicious canine)

My birthday is Thursday, “Yay birthday!” Although there is nothing particularly exciting about turning 34 there’s always much to be delighted about in starting something new. I don’t have big plans, I’d like a cake, some candles and the ever popular, awkward, off-key serenade. I’m praying that my Aveda Clove color conditioner order comes in by Wednesday! I’ll be rabid beast angry if I have to have these sandy brown roots on my big day! What else? Oh, I have to get a learner’s permit before my birthday! I know, I know I’m only 34-whatver. I’m so not getting it just because all of my peers have been moaning about it (as if I’m adversely affecting the planet’s climate by not having it) There are namely two reasons why I feel it’s time to learn to drive…well three. First, and this is the biggest-I think the Goddess is trying to tell me something. Seems I’ve sprouted some pimples and a few catfish like fine hairs at the corners of my mouth…kinda like a teenage boy! And, well what do teenage boys get once the pimples and the fuzz arrive? Girlfriends, learner’s permits and cars! Joe would oppose the first. Plus, Portia DeRossi got first dibs…she must mean the latter two! Second, my ID expires on my birthday and third, I’m over the hairstyle in that ID picture. (although I wouldn’t mind being 120 lbs again!)

I don’t know the first thing about driving other than fastening the seatbelt and inserting a CD, so figuring out all of the ins and outs of it in…what do I have…six days?! This is gonna be interesting, to say the least. I’m confident though, it’s Arizona and I’ve seen enough toothless tractor driving yokels to hypothesize passing the written exam can’t possibly be that complex. (Be sure to read my follow up blog titled I Botched the Written Exam!)