hot stuff.

oh monday, how you slay me.

its oh so hot here in the san fernando valley, my friends.  we've had triple digits and high 90s for over a week now, and it makes a girl feel gloppy and sticky and just not nice.  i've discovered new places for sweat to occurs, such as between my fingers or in the quiet folds of my tummy.

shit, its been really hot.

i'm tired of air conditioning and constant fans.  wait, let me back up: i'm so grateful for air conditioning and fans, but i wish we didn't have to use them.  as it is, we set our thermostat to 77 degrees, which is pretty reasonable, if you ask me.  but all of this energy use and waste and heat leads one to contemplate the huge drought that is plaguing our country, the drought that's peppered by bouts of flooding and tornadoes, and one can't help but feel that we are FUCKED.  we are FUCKED by our absolute inability to change the way we live and take huge steps to save this place we call home.

more specifically, our children are FUCKED.  that's how close it is now.  our children, not seven generations ahead.  its coming faster than we thought it would and our collective response is shameful.
shame on us.  shame on me.

shame on me for knowing that those stupid fruit cups with tiny oranges in them should not be bought just based on the fact that we will be adding four more bits of plastic into the ocean after throwing them "away" or "recycling" them; shame on me for buying them anyway to placate whiny children who are pestering me in target.

this soapbox is getting slippery.  i'll leave it at that.

except to say that the wave of despair hits me hard, but since the meds have kicked in so good i can feel it wash over me and then trail off behind me, like muddy footprints that eventually get walked-off clean again.

(pause for me to wipe off my palms on the blanket; too much sweat on the keyboard).

i'm ready to start writing again with daily doses of this life of mine.  i've been missing these moments to unload and reconnect and think hard about stuff, as well as the more banal posts about my children and their antics.  right now my daughter is being tag-teamed licked by both dogs while she giggles uproariously, thereby guaranteeing that she gets french-kissed as well.

in this family, we share the germs like we share our emotions: boldly and with complete abandon.

so, to close, its good to be back.

burning

And with the burning of the whoopie pies, she swore to the heavens, then waited for the frustration to swallow her up.

Surprisingly, she was able to savor the singeing, and chucked the mess into the trash can as she exhaled.

She remains amazed at the way her new brain takes care of her.