But, it’s for a good reason.

I’m going to be moving this archive to new digs!

http://findingbrea.com

The posts will be moved over as soon as I can get them there.

Then Brea’s Air will be closing it’s windows forever.

The new site is up and running, but doesn’t have a whole lot going on just yet.  I’ve been working on moving the posts of my newer (read – fewer posts to move) blog.  Then I’ll start tackling this one.

Packing’s a bitch.

1. (Music / Classical Music) Music the final, sometimes inessential, part of a musical structure

In recent weeks, I’ve been feeling rather…. without.

Without inspiration.

Without imagination.

Without freedom to speak.

It started with me posting something about being angry one day.  And someone read it.  Surprise, surprise.

Someone was upset and offended.

And I was taken to task for posting my feelings, on my blog, because it hurt someone else’s feelings.  Because they visited my blog, of their own free will and intent, and took exception to my words.

So – I’ve been quiet.

And the few times that I have posted… haven’t felt the same.  Always worried that I will get called on the carpet, hauled in front of some offended party – I stay silent.  Or I edit my own words until they lose all meaning and form.

Trying to work out my own feelings, without benefit of the blogosphere, hasn’t been a treat.  It has always helped me to vent, to express, my feelings “out loud”, as it were.  When I was a kid, I wrote all these things down in notebooks.  Most of them were never seen again, consigned to anonimity, because once the words were out of my head, they weren’t important anymore.

The teapot blowing off steam.

When I began this whole thing, it started as a simple place to lay these feelings down.  Late night thoughts, ruminations and questions I asked myself, personal experiences and memories – some good, some not – were all placed here in an attempt to “lay them down”.  To get them out of my head, to a place where they wouldn’t dog my every step all day long anymore.

And it worked.  Brilliantly.

Until the day when people decide that they have a say in how you say what you say. 

Say what?

When you seek to curb the flow of words…

To “edit” and “pretty-up” the thoughts…

To make sure that it’s all PC and non-offensive to everyone…

You lose what made it unique in the first place.

There’s no flavor here, anymore… just soggy cardboard and ink – run into illegibility by the rain of outside interference and tongue-clucking disapproval.

So… I’m going to be closing the doors on this chapter.

Oh – the pages will remain – archives to a better time.

But the spirit will move on.  Elsewhere.  Elsewhen.

Beyond censorship, beyond disapproval of the few.

I. Will. Speak. My. Mind.  And what I do, when I’m off the clock – ain’t nobody’s business but my own.

Mr. Ray Bradbury, one of my favorite authors, said it so eloquently…

It truly was a pleasure to burn, Mr. Bradbury.  But this flame is naught but ash now.  The spark seeks new tinder, and a breath of fresh air.

The air here… carries the mustiness of the old library, familiar, comfortable for browsing on a late afternoon… but no new excitement.  For that, you must seek new horizons.

And so, I shall.

Thanks to all of you who have made this the wonderful experience that it’s been.

And to those who want to know where I go from here?

Try some of My Dandelion Wine

While out walking our dog, Jack, he decided to run across a busy street to try to beat a motorcycle that was headed his way, slipped on some gravel, and slammed his left forearm into a curb, snapping the radius, and also causing a small “greenstick” break in the ulna. 

In other words, thoroughly messing up his left arm for the summer.

He’s been in a cast now for the last few weeks, and today is our last x-ray to decide whether or not the doctor wants him to have surgery to straighten it out, or let it heal, slightly crooked.  The doc assured me that when a child breaks a bone like this, often times they will heal better if they just let it grow back together at a small bent angle, than to do major surgery and try to correct something that won’t make much difference in the end.

But.

OnlySon and I went in for his x-ray appointment last week, and the doc wasn’t entirely happy with the way the films looked. 

Crap.

So, today, we find out whether OnlySon has to go under the knife, and ends up with his whole summer bound up in plaster.

Luckily, OnlySon is part Irish, on his father’s side.  He’s a lucky kid most of the time, as witnessed by the fact that whenever I take him out somewhere – grocery store, restaurants, parks, etc… he finds money on the floor.  No kidding.  He found a $20 bill on the ground once at a park here in town.  Just randomly laying on the ground.  The kid’s got it, whatever it is.

So here’s hoping the Luck o’ the Irish is with him, and me, today. 

Official update:  NO SURGERY REQUIRED!!  Found out yesterday afternoon that OnlySon is a mutant self-healer lucky-charmed kid, and is healing faster than the doctor expected. 

In 2 weeks, we go back, they’ll take the current cast off, and x-ray again.  If everything looks good then… OnlySon can finally have his summer!

I have a list a mile long of things that still have to get done for graduation, and only a couple of them crossed off.

I lost my mind on my children last night.  There is a list of someof the things that need to be accomplished before the end of the week up near the kitchen.  Just some of the things, mind you.  And I told the children about the list, and that I needed help getting them done.

I didn’t put the list up there for my benefit.  I know what needs to be done, and have been carrying lists around with me for a couple of weeks now.

The list was for them. 

And they knew it.

Yet, last night, when I got home from work, both of my girls were sitting on their butts.  Doing nothing.

List un-accomplished. 

Un-attempted.

And I lost all the fiddly little bits of my brain that deal with stress in a calm, rational manner.

They fell right out of my ears, and smashed on the floor.

I flipped out.

Told the girls that the list I’d posted was only about half of the stuff that needed doing, and that I was tired of getting on bended knee and begging them to help me get ready for YOUNGERDAUGHTER’s graduation.  In a house that they ALL live in.  Not just me.

Told them that “Whatever doesn’t get done by Sunday, willremainundone on Sunday, and THEY can explain to guests why the floor is filthy, or there are dandelions eating their children in the front yard. 

Mom’s going to be tucked away in a corner, rocking back and forth, with a drink in one hand, and a vacant smile – humming tunelessly.

All my fiddly little bits of sanity, lying on the floor next to me.

Gah.

My internet connection at home has been spotty – at best.  The modem is dying, and has begun its last gasps of hot, tainted air.  The cable company told me they’d be out “somewhere between 8am and 5pm”.   So… that means Tuesday, the 12th of never, right?

A couple of days ago, my youngest child, OnlySon – broke his left arm.  Both bones.

The one on the bottom, is a 50% displacement fracture (according to the orthopedic doctor).

The top one, the ulna, is a slight “greenstick” break, near his wrist.  It just shows up on the x-ray as a “fuzzy line” (official radiology terminology, I assure you.) 

This x-ray was taken after they casted his arm.  Nope, they don’t re-set the bones on kids for this type of break.  Surprised me too.  There’s a long, complicated reason, the doctor explained and assured me about.  However, if the bones shift any more within the next 3 weeks, OnlySon may have to have pins and plates surgically inserted into his arm to correct this. 

Yay.

To top it off, he has to wear his new appendage accessory for at least 6 weeks, with a possibility of a separate, shorter cast for another 3 weeks after that – depending on how it heals.

He was overjoyed at this pronouncement.

So, this means no swimming. For the whole summer.  Or at least, most of it.

The one physical activity that OnlySon really gets into, and he isn’t going to be able to even splash around in a baby pool.

Last summer, we had most of our city flooded, including the public pool.

No swimming last year.

No swimming this year.

This also happened to occur 10 days before the end of his school year.

He had to stay out for the last 2 days, due to pain, and the effects of the pain medication the doctor put him on. 

The end of this school year is looming over all of our heads like a vicious, man-eating hydra, snarling, dripping and horrible.

See, with the dripping?

And every time you take care of one problem, cut off one of the heads – 2 more sprout and take its place.

Gotta love that Greek mythology.

So, I’m making lists, checking them – not twice, I’m not Santa Claus – but constantly, throughout the day, everyday.

Planning, re-planning, re-drawing my battle plans and lists.

Counting down to blastoff.

Graduation Day.

Where the hell are my cap and gown?

I should be graduating with honors for my multitasking abilities and for keeping my sanity.

That is – if I still have it at the end of next week.

Her vision of the world is unique, and refreshingly honest and open and, for the most part, lighthearted.

A couple of days ago, YoungerDaughter and the rest of her class, had a senior art show at the high school she attends.  Here are the results of her hard work and passion.

The pictures I was able to take do show all the lights glaring from above and behind, due to the fact that most of the artwork was behind protective glass or plastic, however, you can still see them.  Blame me for any glitches in the view!

This one is a high-contrast painting she did using a photograph of a rubber ducky she took some time earlier.  I wish she hadn’t sold it to a friend soon after she finished it, or I would have hung it in my house until she found her own place.  I find this one stunning.

This painting is an abstract heart, but it has millions of tiny “gesso” beads mixed in with the paint, which give it a rough, bumpy texture.  I’ve often wondered if it had a “hidden meaning” written in braille that YoungerDaughter won’t tell me!

This one is a very large, textured painting, using the paint itself as the texturing medium.  YD chose certain flowers representing the emotions of affection and unrequited love.  (Her first really big crush – that crushed her in return)

This exhibit is one that is titled “You Look Better In The Dark”. I think she was speaking to the bottles with the title, because it’s kind of a “plain-Jane” exhibit in the light, but when you turn off the overheads, it’s dramatic and lovely.

And now, for my 2 personal favorites. These next pictures are pencil portraits that YD did of my other two children, based off of photos taken of them at different ages. These were my Christmas presents from YD, and they will hang in honor along with the one that she did of herself and gave to me a couple of years ago.

EldestDaughter – Age 2.

And

OnlySon – approximately age 7. And one of the LAST times he smiled for a picture.

YoungerDaughter.  Talented, passionate, and quirky.  Truly an original in the eye of ANY beholder.

amelie

“Mommy?”

The voice called softly from out of the darkness, and Corinn jumped a little.

“Yes?”  Turning, she looked down the shadowed hallway she had just passed, expecting to see a forlorn child standing there, looking back at her.  There was no one there.

Again.

Fiona, her 17-year old daughter, was fast asleep in her room.  Corinn could hear her faint snoring now, through the thin walls.  It wasn’t her.

Jake, her 13-year old, was conked out in his room as well.  Rustling came from his end of the hall, as he rolled over in his sleep, undisturbed.  It wasn’t him.  He wouldn’t have called her “Mommy” anyway.  He was too old for that “baby stuff” as he put it now.

Both children sound asleep, and yet Corinn had hear the voice as clearly as if one of the children had been standing right in front of her.

Of course, this wasn’t the first time this had happened.  It wasn’t even the fifth time.  Strange things had been happening for years now, and always around the same time of year.

Early spring.  The same time of year she’d gotten so sick all those long years ago.

The same season when she’d lost the baby.

A “blessing in disguise” some had called it, as it had meant that she wasn’t tied to the father of the child forever.  That painful, mercifully short marriage, aborted shortly after her illness and miscarriage.

But now, almost 19 years later, the voice out of the darkness.

“Amelie?”  Corrin whispered softly to herself.  “Is that you, baby?”

Corrin waited, straining for any sign… but, nothing.  Just like all the times before.

Then, out of nowhere… a small hand reached up and touched her own, hanging down next to her. 

Solid.  Real.

Corrin held her breath as she looked down at her side.

We’ve never really worried about crime all that much here, because there are still a lot of people from other states who say “North Dakota?  Where’s that?  Isn’t that part of Canada?”  So many people don’t even know that we exist here, much less that there are actual people living in this state – and it’s not just a grass-covered prairie full of buffalo and prairie dogs.

Life here has always been lived rather quietly.  Living and progressing at a slower pace than many places, there’s actually a joke that since North Dakota’s so far behind other states, when the “Big Bomb drops” we’ll have another 20 years to ride out normalcy before we get “hit”.

There aren’t a lot of touristy-type attractions, unless you like the outdoor life.  Hunting, fishing, camping, etc.  We have part of the Badlands, and Medora, which are lovely and striking, but for the most part, it’s not a big vacation destination for people.

And that’s always been ok for me, and many of North Dakota’s residents. 

It’s a great place to raise kids.  We never really had to worry, as kids, about getting “snatched” off the streets of our tiny, 300-person population town.  And once I moved to the city, I still didn’t really worry about my kids playing outside.  Our neighborhood was quiet, calm, and you hardly ever heard sirens of any sort – well, maybe on weekends, and the odd one here or there.

Not so much anymore.

The Oil Boom hit our state, as well as parts of Montana and Saskatchewan, really hard last year.  A few years back, they discovered that they could now reach a very large reserve of oil underneath our land called The Bakken Formation.  They’re going for it, full speed ahead, guns a’blazin, and dudes a’drillin’.

And suddenly, I’m feeling a little like we’ve been caught up in a whirlwind of changes.

Not so much the laid-back farmland anymore, North Dakota is swiftly changing to feel a little more like a cross between The Beverly Hillbillies and the Hatfields vs. the McCoys.

Big companies have invaded our lands, drilling holes in the ground, pulling out barrels and barrels of money.  It’s good for the economy, I know.

But.

There’s something you lose with all this progress.

A certain sense of security. 

A co-worker of mine recently got herself a concealed-carry weapons permit, and I’m thinking about getting one for myself.

And I don’t like guns.

But – between being a single mom again, and the increase in the crime rate in just our city alone – my dear guard-dog, Jack… just won’t be enough. 

 So, I’m researching the possibility of getting myself a concealed-carry permit.

Because having the DEA and Border Patrol stop on my little 2-block street… both within the last year; after 12 years of quiet….. is enough of a sign.

It’s time for this Witch to stop relying on luck and magick, and get used to the idea that North Dakota just isn’t what it used to be.  It’s catching up to the rest of the world… both good and bad.

But, this does not mean that we’ve reached the end of things that your Gramma is going to teach you – not by a long shot! 

There are years and years of lessons ahead, my precious grandson, so let’s just get this part of the teaching out of the way, shall we?

Z – is for Zoo.  You’re quickly learning – our family is rather one of these.  Full of wild animals of all kinds and quirks, our family is definitely varied and can be fun. 

Just make sure you don’t stick your fingers between the bars, or attempt to feed them by hand.

You’ll lose the fingers, and possibly your sanity.

Of course, with this family – sanity is optional, so it’s not like anyone around here will notice the difference or make an issue of it!  We’re all one, big happy family of wild critters!

Z – is for Zero.  This is how many times you’ll have to wonder if Gramma loves you.

Never doubt.

Gramma loves you, and always will.

And Zero is the times you’ll ever go a day without hearing it.

And, for theGrande Finale…..

Z – is for ZOMBIES!!!

Of course it is.  Everything these days is about zombies – right?

This is the latest and strangest trend I’ve seen in a long time, Little Buddha.  People everywhere are “getting on board” and joining the “Zombie Extermination Crews”, because, supposedly, the Zombie Apocalypse is just around the corner.

There are t-shirts, posters, and even decorations (not just for bumperstickers, anymore!) for your vehicle to identify you to other Zombie-Slayers.

Weird, I know, but this is true.

We’re gonna have to get you one of these, just so you can be prepared.

Of course, by the time the apocalypse actually happens… you’ll be older, wiser, and probably ready to drive… so maybe we can trick out Gramma’s van like some of the other kids these days.

There we go.  Now we’re ready to roll, Little Buddha.

Just let Gramma get her gear.