The Best Laid Plans

Often go awry.

I was sitting on the sofa, relaxing after a long day at work and I began to hear a horrible wailing sound.  Mwroweeeerrrrrrrrr, Mwroweeeerrrrrrrrr, Mwroweeeerrrrrrrrr. OMG! What is going on?? It sounded like one of my cats was being killed.

I jumped up and started searching the house for the source of this terrible noise. I soon found my little girl cat, Pepper, under the buffet. Her whole body was heaving in gut wrenching spasms and a horrible, alarming, wail like a broken siren was emanating from her tiny body. It was pathetic. But what was even worse is she was about to unload her dinner all over my new carpet! Ewwww!!

The good news was, she was a few feet away from the bathroom and a nice linoleum floor. I figured I’d pick her up and move her a few feet before she hurled because I thought it’d be a lot easier to pick up hot steamy vomit from linoleum than shaggy Berber carpet. I reached out and grabbed her around her bulging middle but ummmmm… it didn’t go too well.

Apparently Pepper was pretty traumatized and when I grabbed her, her distress became a total blinding, freak out panic. She flipped out!! She flew from my arms in an acrobatic spinning leap and simultaneously hurled the contents of her stomach. Bleeeehhhhhhhh!!!!!!! An arc of kitty vomit flew before my eyes. She hit the ground running and hid in the kitchen leaving me there to deal with the aftermath of my ill-thought plan.

I stood there blinking. Wondering how the hell things went so wrong. One minute I’m relaxing in my shiny new apartment after a long day, and the next minute I’m standing in my hallway with kitty vomit on the carpet, kitty vomit on the tile, kitty vomit on the buffet, kitty vomit on the bookshelf, kitty vomit on the door frame, kitty vomit on me and a bleeding hand. 

Like most mothers out there, mine is a little whacked. (OK-a LOT whacked). She means well, but…..

About a year ago I was talking to my son, who at the time was 20. We had all been living with my parents for a while and sometimes we had to get away and depressurize. So we were in the car going somewhere and sharing stories when he told me of a conversation he had with my mother. (his grandmother-keep this in mind).

Keep in mind too that growing up my sex education was rather limited as my parents were far from comfortable with the subject. I think the complete course in the Birds and the Bees from Mom went something like this “It’s something really wonderful that you do with someone you love”.

I’m not sure this jived with the mountains of porn found under my Dad’s side of the bed. But although twisted, I learned a lot more from Hustler than I did from Mom. No wonder I was confused.

But I digress. (I do that a lot)

So in the course of our chatting I brought up one of the family dogs, that was always a source of much stress. I mentioned that it appeared they had purchased a harness for him.

“OMG!”, my son said, “Do you know what Grandma said to me?”

“What?” I asked warily.

“Well I came in to the kitchen and saw the harness on the table, so I was just goofing around (like mother like son) and I put it on. Then when I turned around to show it off Grandma said “Oh! I didn’t know you were into leather?”.

“OH MY GOD! You’re kidding!” I reply, totally shocked, but then not completely shocked, this is MY mother we are talking about here. These days I never knew what's going to come out of her mouth. I laugh nervously, thinking poor kid, to hear that from his Grandmother. He could be scarred for life.

Well apparently it gets better. (or worse, depending on how you look at it)

“Yeah” he replied “and then a couple of weeks ago she said something else.”

Oh God, I’m thinking, now what? I’m afraid to ask.

“Well you know that episode of CSI with the leather lady in it?”

Well yes, of course I do. I remember it well. I also know that my Mother is completely hooked on CSI and ALL cops and detective shows. It’s all she watches. So I know she’s seen every episode at least half a dozen times. I also know that CSI doesn’t do a very good job of showing the kinkier side of life. They generally put their titillating spin on things. But….let’s she what she thought of Lady Heather.

“Yes”, I respond, far more than wary now. Terrified maybe?

“Well they (Grandma and Grandpa) were watching that episode of CSI and there’s that part in it where they go into that BDSM place she (Lady Heather) has and they show these men that the women are doing stuff too and I walked in while they were at that part and I made a comment about it”

“and…”

“And so Grandma gets all serious, you know, dramatic like she does”

“uh huh”

“and says “well (deep dramatic pause with a sigh like she really and truly understands how painful life can be for some people and that she is wise and knowing) you know some men need that sort of thing, (nodding sadly-with another dramatic pause) it’s the only way they can have an orgasm”

“What! OMG! She didn’t?” I'm shocked. I don't think I EVER heard the word "orgasm" in that house. I'm surprised she even knows it! (maybe she heard it on CSI?)

“yes, she did, and I was like, I’m outta here!” I think he was turning a little red just talking about it.

“OMG! Well you poor thing” But I couldn’t help but laughing, and the more I thought of it, the more I laughed. What could possibly be more ludicrous than my clueless Mother, in her most enlightened and tolerant manner, explaining to her grandson why some men like to get tied up and beaten, and managing to get it all wrong in the process.

"To sleep, perchance to dream-aye, there's the rub."

My friend Angela called to see if I wanted to go have dinner. I said "sure", and she told me to meet her at this new place with big salad bar. She sat down to order something and I grabbed my plate, and told her I was hungry and was going to get something from the salad bar.

Holding my plate I entered an enormous room with serving counters all the way around it. The first thing I saw were deserts, which I didn't want until I'd had some dinner. Then I noticed some real food (or at least it looked that way) but it had some strange name I didn't recocnize and there was no one to ask. The food was behind a screen so I couldn't get to it.

What the hell was I supposed to do? There were people crowding everywhere, all getting food, but me. I saw a bowl with some Raspberry looking stuff and asked out loud "what's that?"

"Sauce" someone replied. I scowled. Not helpful. What was it made out of? What did it go on? What did it taste like? GRRRRRR

What the hell was all this stuff anyway. Everywhere I looked all the food had weird names and didn't look like anything I'd ever eaten before. And where was the DAMN help?

Finally in frustration I took my plate and left the room. Crowding through a narrow area I refused to apologize to the woman I pushed out of the way. Grouchy and hungry I headed back to the table.

When I got there Angela was busy munching. I put my plate on the table and sat down dejectedly. Not looking up she said "Honey, you've hardly eaten thing".

"I haven't eaten ANYTHING!" I shouted. "This place sucks! Everything has weird names, there's no help! I can't serve myself!"

BEEEEEEEPPPPP!!!!!

Wha? HUH???? Oh Damn! It's time to get up

We can’t all be coconuts.

Coconuts have a hard outer shell that protects the inside quite well. A coconut doesn’t need any special handling or coddling or care. It can take a lot of abuse and the insides are OK. I suppose if you wanted to transport one all you have to do is toss it in the back of the trunk and drive off. It can rattle around back there and you can just forget all about it. All that yummy coconut milk is still in there, and that sweet white meat that lines the walls is safe from harm. But, by the same token, it takes and awful lot of work to get in there if all you want is a bite of coconut. AND, if you’re REALLY hungry, starving even,  and all you have is a coconut and no way to break it open, you’re gonna keep on being hungry.

Sometimes our children surprise us. Especially when they are 19 and we are used to them behaving and thinking like arrogant teenagers, disrupting the whole house over a video game death or leaving the rest of us to close cabinets, refill ice trays and reminding us they are NOT children any more!

I went to pick my "grown" son up from a day of playing paint ball, and on the way home he told me a story of something quite unexpected that happened that day, and his also unexpected response to it.

He was waiting to begin another round of paintball when he glanced over at a teammate who was standing completely still, head back, eyes shining, staring up at the sky. My son wondered what he was looking at, and in the moment when he realized he was having a seizure, the young man fell back and hit the ground.

My son had seen this sort of thing before, and I never knew. It seems he has another life he doesn’t talk much about, and in which remarkable things happen.  I’ve never seen such a thing. And yet at 19 he’s seen it several times and knew exactly what to do. It’s always been that way with him. Remarkable events just seem to unfold around him. Sometimes he’s prepared and sometimes he’s not.

This time he knew what to do. He ran to the young man and turned him to the side, and called for help, called for the game to stop and for a call to 911. He held his head to keep him from hurting himself. Prepared he said, to use fingers if he had to, to keep him from choking.

I wonder how my son, who can’t manage the stress of filling out a job application or remember to return a video game AND wash his work shirt in the same day, could so calmly handle this crisis. Like I said, our children surprise us.

But what impressed me the most was his reaction to the experience and the fact that he shared it with me, although he lacked the proper words and was a little embarrassed to say the things he did. He told me when he first looked over at the young man and saw him staring at the sky, it looked like he was “seeing God”. He said when he held him in his arms it was like he was holding his own child. He felt he was very tender and precious and he needed to protect him. He said when they were all around him he felt a connection to the group, as if they all moved and reacted together as one mind with one goal. He said he wanted nothing else in that moment but to save this young man.

He said the experience profoundly changed him. I imagine it will probably have little impact on ice trays or cabinet doors, but I’m hoping it will change the way he sees himself and the world. I’m hoping he’ll carry that sense of awe and wonder with him and know forever that he experienced something completely unique and special. I’m hoping he’ll realize it’s the seconds and minutes that cause our lives to change course. I hope he’ll understand and find comfort in that sense of order as he embarks on his future. I don’t know if he will, but it’s what I hope.

"IN THE BEGINNING there was Toast, and the Toast came from God, and the Toast was God. There was Toast in the beginning with God. Of all things that were made by Him, was not anything made, that was made, more important than the Toast. In it was sustenance, and the sustenance was the salvation of mankind. And the sustenance fighteth against the Hunger, and the Hunger vanquished it not."

--Peter Higgins
--Good Friday, 2000

I read something interesting sometime ago in a Kaballah thingy. It was one of seven truths (hmmmm I think there were seven). I don't remember the others, perhaps they had something to do with dropped toast landing face down and stuff like that, so they didn't have as much impact as this "truth" did.

But it went something like this "at opposite ends of the spectrum all things have an equal effect"

I thought this was very cool, because it's really true. For example extremely bright light has the same effect as complete absence of light, we can't see. Sound at extremely high and extremely low pitches cannot be heard. And even things that are too sweet, taste bitter.

I think whoever wrote the Kaballah was pretty sharp, even if the toast thing is pretty obvious.

Still no real life experience, but I’m getting a much better idea of why I’m here, and why I’m NOT here. So, let me see if I can explain. I’m NOT looking for a long term relationship. I’m here to make friends first. If something develops from there, wonderful, if not, then I have a great new friend. I’m in no rush. I’ve managed to get by 42 years without this lifestyle.  I can survive a few more months.

I’m not into service. Sorry, I know that’s what many of you think it’s all about, but that’s not me. I’ve had enough years of putting everyone  before myself, and by damn, the well has run dry. I’m here to meet some fascinating, interesting people, experience some new things and have fun. If you think that makes me a player, pretender or wannabe….oh well. I’ve spent 42 years caring little what others think of me, I’m not going to start now. 

I’m not a fixer-upper. I function just fine in the adult world. I don’t need to be mentored, trained, molded or repaired. I’m perfectly happy with the person I am, the way I treat other people. My morals, principals and spiritual beliefs are firmly in place.  I could always use encouragement to complete the various challenges I’ve set for myself, but no one punishes me for failing but myself.

Hope this doesn’t sound too grouchy. I’m not a grouchy person, just trying to weed the garden a little bit. If I’m not what you are looking for, please pass me by instead of getting mad because you can’t convince me to be something else. I wouldn’t ask you to change into what I’m looking for, so why would you presume to ask me to?