What Does It All Mean?

Today the goddess speaks about herself:
Here I sit, in my undies, in the middle of the night because I can't sleep -- again.
This time it's because I have a headache. When I have a headache I have to elevate my head. No matter how tired I am I have to keep my head up. I tossed back a couple of painkillers, and tiptoed downstairs to find the pain relieving gel I'd left in the kitchen. I got this stuff from my chiropractor. (It was Wednesday, Olgalita; not one of your days in the office, and my bedroom was too messy to ask you to come over and poke me with needles) One must make asides to one's doctor when one's doctor reads one's blog. (Plus, in an act of utter stupidity but, with the best intentions, I gave away the pain relieving stuff you gave me) That was another aside. I need little talking balloons, like in cartoons, only the ones with the little bubbles.

As usual, when I awake in the wee hours, I read the gossip columns. I know that Rosie is not coming back to The View; Apollo Ohno is going to suspend his Dancing With the Stars disco ball trophy from the ceiling, and have it drop down every time someone walks in the door; and Dean McDermott's ex was wearing an old, unflattering bikini when he told her he was leaving her for Tori Spelling. (That sort of puts the icing on a sucky day -- men should wait until their wives are looking totally hot before wiping the floor with them by informing them a younger, more digitally enhanced, nymphet is actually their soul mate).

I also read my Tarot.com horoscope. Today it ends with: Kindness will grease the path to satisfaction. What does that even mean? Don't be a bitch today?
A greasy path doesn't sound all that appealing to me, or safe. Maybe it means that if I am kind today I will get some action from my husband? I don't think it would be kind to leave a greasy path for him to follow if that's the case.
What satisfaction am I looking for today?
Well, I did want to paint the bathroom and install a mirror and a vanity light. I would be really satisfied if that got done today. I guess if I follow the advice of my horoscope being kind will be a better tool than snarking about what kind of help I expect. I still don't want to be greasy. (My neck is all greasy from this headache gel stuff).

I don't really have to put in all of these asides I just realized. Olgalita is in Belize. She asked me last October if I wanted to go with her, and some other women. I said that I couldn't miss a week of work.
Stupid! Stupid! Head-Slapping Stupid!
I could be in Belize, right this very minute instead of sitting, cross-legged, in my underwear in front of my computer in the middle of the night. AND, I wouldn't have this headache because I would be on a relaxing vacation. I also wouldn't be wondering what it means to be kind in order to grease a path. Is that like, you can attract more flies with honey than with vinegar? I guess that means, don't be a bitch, as well.
Being attractive to flies has never been high on my list either.
I'm not supposed to begin sentences with a gerund am I? Or, am I? I don't care. What does that really mean either. Practically no one attempts to use gerunds correctly anymore.

Now that I am just getting silly with fatigue, maybe I should attempt to get back to sleep.
May peace and a better understanding of grammar be yours from, The Goddess of Everything.

Procreation Isn't For Everyone

Today the goddess speaks about herself:
Crap! Crap! Crap!
I hate that word but, I can't think of a better word to describe how I am feeling right now.
It doesn't matter that I took my niece on a shopping spree that totaled nearly $500, today was her birthday and I didn't call and I didn't send a card. I am probably in the doghouse, with my sister, because said niece did not receive anything in the mail today. Plus, THE GUILT.
I have been heavily medicated since Monday due to major migraine activity. I haven't missed a day of work but, while I probably wasn't legal to drive, I still had to manage a classroom of miscreants.
For the last two weeks I have called upon every extra reserve that exists in me to just get through each day. Today, for instance (and this is just today mind you, not atypical for the last couple of weeks) I got to tell parents that their little darlings called someone an F-ing asshole, made lewd gestures with their genitalia, and flipped off classmates and a teacher. Wow, six and seven year olds gone wild. Welcome to the world where children are allowed to watch everything on television, and play any video game they want.
I have barely made it through the last two weeks. All I do is sleep, take (legal) drugs, and go to work. That's it.
Top three most stressful jobs in the world: Policeman, Fireman, Teacher (I don't know why soldier isn't on the list -- I'm guessing soldier rates up there with policeman..) Then, air traffic controllers, and prison guards for juvenile prisons. Hmmmm. . . . Not feeling the respect right now people.
I do a damn fine job. I believe in public education. I just don't believe everyone should be out there procreating. Can we have a psych eval. for prospective parents please? Helicopter parents would be out, crack whores -- out, abusive S.O.B.'s out. Parents who think they know more than a specially trained professional --OUT! I want to hear, "yes Ma'am, No Ma'am", and that is it. I want to hear it from the kids and the parents. I don't care if you have a PhD in anything. Learn to say NO to your child. Don't hit them, don't use empty threats, don't give them everything they want, feed them, make them wear a coat when it's cold, and a helmet when they ride a bike, AND freakin' say NO and mean it.
This week I had a kid enrolled, who was apparently kidnapped from the custodial parent. I had several students make lewd sexual gestures to other students, a boy who said he watched a pirated version of a movie that had just been released the day before, foul language was flying, and all this before I am officially on duty. I actually apologized to a parent for waking him up, at noon, to tell him his son had flipped someone off and, been disrespectful to the 45 year veteran teacher who was guiding him through the district discipline plan.
Tomorrow is Friday. I am going to teach. I am not going to spend my day "problem solving" with children who have the misfortune of having bad parents. I don't know what I am going to do with those kids who can't behave but, I will think of something before tomorrow.
May peace and a strong prophylactic be yours from, The Goddess of Everything.

Irrepressible Restlessness

Today the Goddess speaks about herself:
Do you feel torn between a desire to spend the day as quietly as you can, and your irrepressible restlessness?
This was my horoscope, on Tarot.com, today. It also told me to be careful about creating unnecessary drama just to spice things up. Since I am the antithesis of drama queen that was a pretty funny suggestion.
Anyway, my horoscope made me think. Irrepressible Restlessness. I've decided that is a good book title (copyright!), and many of you could probably contribute to a chapter or six. If you are not the biggest drama queen, I will have to look elsewhere for those insights.
I will have to contemplate what this restlessness, irrepressibly means in my life, and write more on it later.
Two books that have hugely influenced me this week: On Becoming Fearless, by Arianna Huffington (I'm going to be her in my next life), and Life Laughs, by Jenny McCarthy (I might choose to be her in another life, minus the spread in playboy, and the farting in an elevator filled with hot guys). Having Arianna as an icon in ones life might not seem as much of a stretch as subscribing to Jenny McCarthy-isms but, when you hear what movie my parenting style was based on you will better understand. Go right out, NOW, and rent Back to the Beach. It's when Annette Funicello and Frankie Avalon (as themselves) take their teenage son back to the beach, where they met, to visit their college aged daughter. My children have memorized the movie, as have I, and we are all better people for it. Plus, it is just darned funny. Even my grandma, Arlene, sat through the entire movie, and that woman never even sat down long enough to watch her favorite, The Lawrence Welk Show.
Then you can read Jenny and Arianna, in that order.
Here is an insight from Jenny on marriage: "So even though there are times you want to run like hell or when you feel stale and bored, remember that opening your heart and refilling it with love just might keep you married long enough to beat each other with canes." ( p.47)
While Arianna inspires me to be a better person, Jenny just gets it said.
May peace and a sturdy cane be yours from, The Goddess of Everything.

Limoncello

Today the goddess speaks about herself:
Major stress time in my life, and it is capitol N o w.
Wednesday afternoon I drug my husband to the bar for straight shots. Then, he hauled me home for smoking and cursing in front of the outdoor fire. (I did all of the smoking and cursing; he built the fire -- we were made for each other)
Yesterday, I called up two other hot chicks, and we headed down to the pier for drinks in funny glasses with chips and seven different kinds of salsa. Sometimes you can only commiserate over mango and blackberry salsa. (It's a girl thing)
Two days of partying should have assuaged my restless soul but, tonight I find myself downing one limoncello after another, and licking the wrapper of an old chili-chocolate bar. Sadly, I am home alone. Not even the fear of gaining weight, from my excessive stress disorder, is slowing me down.
We are supposed to be having prohibition at the house. I climbed onto the kitchen bar stool, tossing the butt pillow aside, and rummaged through the liquor cabinet. The only bottles in there are filled with things even I wouldn't drink. Here is what I will NOT drink, even in desperation: triple sec, sake, gin, ancient kahlua, peppermint schnapps, and half a bottle of chambourg. There's vodka, but it is the special Icelandic vodka that hasn't been opened yet. I don't want to have to explain opening that for no special reason. Just as I was resigning myself to my Friday night alcohol free state, I remembered to check the freezer. Joy of joys. A shiny gold cap was sticking out from amongst the 3 cheese raviolis and the sweet potato fries.
Vodka! Or, so I assumed. As I pulled the long-necked bottle out it seemed to be very, very yellow in hue. Maybe lemon vodka? No, it was limoncello. Mmmm. . . the drink that Danny DeVito claimed he and George Clooney got wasted on the night before he went on The View.
I don't know where it came from or, who put it there but was I happy to see it. Icy cold, it is an amazing drink. (Kind of girlie for Danny and George, if you ask me).
What to drink it out of was my only thought. After snagging a martini glass from waaay back on the top shelf of the glasses we never use, I happily settled myself in front of the computer to watch last night's episode of Grey's Anatomy. Good thing I was drinking. The writers really let me down tonight. I am never watching that show again. No one had a happy ending. It sucked!
This morning, everyone at Curves wanted to talk about it but, they held back in deference to me. They should have just hashed it out. An ending episode like that deserves a good griping over with the girls while they are all in a sweaty, breathless oblivion.
I have nothing to do now except laundry for the weekend. Boring. I forgot to return a stupid movie rental from last night. I didn't even watch that movie. I didn't even rent that movie. Let the man return and pay for it. I'm going to have one last limoncello.
May peace and an ice cold martini be yours from, The Goddess of Everything.

Preparing For Prohibition

Today the goddess speaks about herself:
The alcohol in the cupboard calls to me. It calls like a yodeler on an alpine mountain top, annoying but, crystal clear.
Therefore today I have told my husband to prepare for in-house prohibition. We will drink no more after the last of the alcohol in the house has been consumed. Turns out there is quite a bit of liquor in the old cabinet above the fridge (not to mention the wine cooler).
We are both doing our part to make prohibition happen. It could take weeks, if we go slow, so we are not going so slowly. I predict that we will be free of the devil Drink within 48 hours. I am now preparing myself with an elixir of wolf berry juice and painkillers.
There will not be a drop of spirits, in this house, within the next two days, if it kills me.
This is my declaration.
May Peace and a cast iron stomach be yours from: The Goddess of Everything

Back In The Saddle

Today the goddess speaks about herself:
Oops! I did a little sliding off of my saddle recently. Those teeny little goddess jeans that I bought yesterday are not going to fit for long if I allow myself to backslide on the health plan.
Thursday: Happy hour at Morton's with Mary and Karen. Karen didn't have a drink, why did I think I had to have one? I haven't had a drink in months. Well, what's one little glass of chardonnay after all? Turns out Chardonnay is a gateway to two little glasses of Pinot Grigio, two little glasses of Chianti, and a portion of the mudslide (crazy good ice cream cake) I felt compelled to bring home from the big and tall store of restaurants. It's all Mary's fault, then, Lee's, then Barbara's. You know how it started, here's the middle and end.
I wasn't feeling too guilty about the glass of wine Thursday night. The late dinner after the glass of wine was only a minor concern. Part of my plan is that no food will enter my body after 7 PM. We didn't even order dinner until 7:30. By then we had moved on to Southpark, I had the paella, it was just OK-- nothing to write home about. It's no fun when you splurge, and it isn't really worth it. My eyes did not roll back into my head in other words. But, I did sleep better than I had in over a year. I was wondering if I shouldn't have a glass of wine each night, strictly as a sleep aid. Funny, wine used to make me wake up in the middle of the night. Remorse woke me up in the morning though. I was thinking that that was my last slip for a long while. I went nervously to the gym Friday morning. It was my monthly weigh and measure day. I was sure I wouldn't show a loss after my dreadful behavior the night before. NOT TRUE! I'd lost pounds and inches. After the trainer ran the numbers she brought me a copy of my progress since the very beginning. I've lost a lot of weight, baby! Even more inches! She said that I was doing so well she was going to nominate me for Member of The Month. This was just the incentive I needed to stay firmly in the saddle with my thighs clenched and toes pointed down. I took my report card, from the gym, home to show my husband. He rewarded me well. . .
OK, I had a little lapse on Thursday night -- no big deal.
Saturday, I raced to the mall to meet my sister-in-law for power shopping and a belated birthday lunch. Since I'd lost so much weight everything looked good on me. Lee and I had a great time, sharing a dressing room, and telling each other how good we looked. (Three kids and that woman can still wear a bikini; WOW!) We were grabbing shorts and shirts and dresses and shoes, barely looking at each item. Everything looked good on us so we bought everything. Luckily, everything was half off so we were feeling no pain when we headed out for lunch.
The restaurant had just opened for business. I'd never heard of the chain, but apparently they are famous for their giant portions. I don't know what I was thinking when I ordered a martini. Lee didn't feel the urge to have a drink. Now, this is a drink I don't think I mentioned in my opening. This was some kind of crazy blue colored, rum martini. Looking back, I'm sure it was the Chardonnay talking. I'd raised my hand once now, I had somehow forgotten to say, "Just water for me, thanks". It was no small drink either. In my defense I did not drink all of it. I also barely made a dent in my ginormous lunch offering. The waitress had to bring two boxes just for me (giant boxes). Lee looked over at the drink to which she had just treated me. I looked too. It looked kind of forlorn but, what could I do? I was going to be driving in the next five minutes. That's when the waitress brought me my 'free' birthday treat. She had thoughtfully wrapped it up for me as she could see I was kind of a wimp in the cleaning my plate department.
I tried to give the dessert to Lee but, she just smiled at me and told me to take it home to my kids. MY KIDS DON'T EAT SUGAR. This humongous concoction of ice cream and chocolate was not going to be calling to them from the freezer all night. I gave birth to mutants. Non-sugar eating mutants!!
When I got home I ignored the voice in my head that was shouting, "Throw it away! Throw it away!" and popped it into the freezer right along with the containers of extra fudge sauce and whipped cream (there was even a marachino cherry peaking out from the center of the whipped cream). Quickly, I ran upstairs to try on all of my new clothes. This was to remind myself of why I eschew monster calorie loaded sweets. Trying on all of my new clothes did take my mind off of the devil in the freezer. Plus, it was family dinner night at Barbara's. The boys hadn't eaten all day in anticipation. The youngest was even experiencing low blood sugar fatigue such was his dedication to saving room for a nine course dinner at Barb's bistro. OK, here is where it is Barbara's fault; if she hadn't decided to put on these monthly dinners, and if we hadn't gone to the last one and been so impressed that we arranged to have the boys join us for this dinner, I never would have had four more glasses of wine. While last month, I had easily said, "Just water, thanks," this month the food begged to be partnered with wine. (I did pass on the pre-dinner champagne). The asparagus wrapped in prosciutto called out for pinot grigio. The eggplant parmesan cried for Chianti, and the Chianti soaked pear sang as if it's heart was breaking to be partnered with one final taste from the glass (so, it was a pretty long pour. Is that my fault?) I wobbled home on my high heels. I told myself that this was it for months and months. I would not need to indulge my inner calorie hog again for ages.
But, oh how the saddle slips when it has been loosened. It really needs an expert to tighten the straps, and I am no expert! I made it all day Sunday without even thinking about the dessert in the freezer. Well, other than to try to talk my eldest son into eating it before he took himself back to college. (Did I mention that I gave birth to mutants?) He just laughed at me and told me to toss it. TOSS IT! This is free birthday mudslide for God's sake. It will stay in that freezer until someone eats it, or it turns to inedible ice cream goo. Turns out that someone was me. About 4:30 in the afternoon I took that sucker out of the freezer and carved of a little sliver. Then, I went back and carved off another little sliver. As I was wrapping it back up for the second time something in my brain turned on; some little voice in my head, maybe my mutant son's said, "Toss it", and I did. I didn't just throw it in the garbage under the sink where I could dig it out in five minutes either. I tied that devil, with its extra fudge, whipped cream, and half of a maraschino cherry and I put it in the outside garbage!! Yeah baby! Take that! Girlfriend is clenching her thighs for all she's worth. I will not lose my seat completely. I may be under the horse but, I am still attached to that saddle.
May peace and a firm grip be yours from, The Goddess of Everything.

Time To Be Funny, Again

Today the goddess speaks about herself:

It's time to be funny again.
I haven't been, or felt, particularly funny the last couple of months.
Last night I went to see, 'Wild Hogs'. I laughed so hard I wet my pants--
several times.
I have no idea what criteria movie critics use to critique a movie. I don't think they consider the watchability factor. Sure, a Brokeback Mountain, or a Capote are swell movie fodder, but you don't necessarily want to watch them more than once. Give me a two star movie any day over an art film.
There's a time and place for artsy fartsy, but there are many more times and places for fun-time movies.
The best time I ever had at a movie was watching, 'Snakes On A Plane', at the Baghdad, eating beer and pizza, and shouting at the screen with the rest of the movie revelers. I knew it was going to be good, and it was!
This year I refused to see most of the Oscar nominated films because they were too much of a drag. I need laughter in my life. Not watching the movies didn't stop me from dressing up like a dreamgirl, and partying down at the nearest Oscar party. However, the only movies I cared about were Dreamgirls, and Little Miss Sunshine. Two very fun movies.
This is going to be the year of fun for me. No raining on my parade from anyone, inside or outside of my personal reality.
Today I went shopping to buy a new pair of pants, and a purse.
I came home with two hot dresses, a ridiculous pair of shoes, and three pairs of wild earrings. I will not be constrained by the hum-drum right now. Apparently, hum-drum is not an exclusive category. I may have to wear evening gowns to teach in, having no desire to buy sensible attire, but the kids will love it!
Who knows what the future holds, but at least I am sure it won't lack for laughs.
May peace, laughter, and a silly pair of earrings be yours, from, The Goddess of Everything.