Ode to my gerbil

There was something about the way you cocked your eye, up to the left, so confused. Not really confused, but enlightened, or simply making fun of it all. Adorable! Then, you hopped on your wheel and acted aloof, didn't know you had it in you, to act all aloof, I was won.

I didn't buy you in hopes of sitting by your cage all day and never cleaning it. I'm a cleaner by nature, I LOVE fresh smells, I don't know what came over me that day I let it all go to nature. My parents never intervened, never said, "hamsters, I said gerbil, but meant hamsters...need care."

So, I thought I'd do a little experiment, I'd just let it all go. Nature would take its course, right (I was young). The cage would clean itself, the hamsters would figure out how to empty the bedding of their vile content, and again with the exercise, they'd care for themselves.

I named them Marci and Beautiful, if you must know, my two hamsters. Like all of the worst decisions in my life, those names dropped into my mind from the sky. I'd had faith. I just thought, like I did in second grade when I was put in charge of "a newscast", I thought, if God wants me to win, if He wants to fill me up, He will.

He gave me those names and I used them. He didn't give me the newscast He was supposed to, instead He gave me beet red cheeks and insatiable laughter, and even though we all got 'F's', I felt I'd cheated the whole system and just followed Love.

If living on the edge ends up being wrong, if naming your hamsters the wrong names is something I'll end up paying for in hell, so be it. I live true, that's all I can say for myself, and without regret. When I stumble, and fall, it's worth it. More for confession.

I couldn't hold it back, not a speck of that hysterical enjoyment of all my hamsters had to offer. I let them die, they scratched each other to death, so I was more relieved when they finally DID die. I'd neglected them, untrained to care for small animals, I screwed up.

But, I learned never to buy hamsters again, especially not for my children. So it was worth it in the end.

Never confuse that

Betcha thought I was going to trick you and write, "I'm so confused." I was, but I didn't, just being honest. Well, I don't have time for joking. None of my castle park pictures turned out well, boring day overall. Instead, I'm going to share with you a poem I wrote.

Yup, came straight from my very own heart...hope U like it!

Tear down the law
So sugar sure
When you become
the critical cure.

That's it. What do you think? Don't make fun of me, I'm sensitive and a poetry beginner. Oh, you thought...oh, I thought, or wait. I forget how that goes. Funny though.

Last post, I promise

No really, but this one's important. More important than anything I previously wrote today, and it has to do with llamas. I know, you're probably surprised that I'd go so far out of my way to write a tenth post about llamas, but llama means "name" in Spanish, and so I'm going to count this one as a language credit when I turn our records into the superintendent. Of course we keep records!!

I must apologize in a very sincere way to a llama. I think back on the way I allowed the llama to jump over the fence, and then I told the llama I was having great kebobs on Mothers Day, and I didn't even bother to say that this was the first Mothers Day the weather even cooperated so we could make kebobs.

I didn't want the llama to feel bad, or even have to consider the fact that I eat kebobs on Mothers Day, but something told me it was important for the llama to know. I regret hurting the llama, I really, sincerely do.

Llamas are going to be the best pets owned by children all across America, and wait until I dress my llama up as the Easter Bunny next year. Yes, that's just about a year from now, and he's going to look really silly in those ears.

But that doesn't excuse the llama's previous owner for being insensitive to what it means when a llama goes so far out of its way to just be a genuine llama, despite what even the best llama agent would recommend for that llama's career.

I thank llamas everywhere for being so incredibly heart-wrenchingly beautiful deep in their souls, and conveniently also in their biceps and jawlines. But, I need the llama that I hurt to know that I'm sorry. Because that means more to me than anything I've written today so far. And if a guy named Jimmy reads this, I don't mind.

Eight righteous months, or nine?

Enough to conceive, carry and give birth to a child, which is very meaningful. Lucky for nature, parenting doesn't end at delivery, some actually look at it as an important beginning. In fact, the more parents of grownup children I meet, the more I recognize the fine balance between continuing to raise the idiots, and allowing them to keep screwing everybody's lives up, including their own.

Well, it's never actually put that way. It's life lessons everyone's after, and the rough falls and hard knocks that come from that...supposedly unavoidable. I mean, not everyone can see all the way to the End Times, and live deliberately accordingly. Some people are afraid.

Afraid of goodness, which shouldn't be as frightening as unqualified psychics may portend. God is GOOD!!! He matches karaoke singers with karaoke singers, who, like it or not, happen to produce bi-racial children that are quite the powerful statement for society to digest.

These bi-racial children are the JOY of society's life, more fulfilling than screwing around on the internet for a thousand years, avoiding all the possibilities that are available through NOT screwing around on the internet for a thousand years.

It actually comes down to algebra, simply. A + B = C. Don't miss out on the music.

Friday Frustrations

It's a blog carnival, everyone's joining. Maria, I tried to grab the button but it wouldn't come off the screen.

Today is Friday and I'm frustrated. Has nothing to do with the excellent prize-filled weekend awaiting me (I LOVE Valentines day with all my heart). My camera will be unable to take any great pictures...oh no, I have TWO cameras, not really a problem there.

Simply, no download capacity, and why bother taking great pictures on a satisfyingly-average camera, without a reliable outcome. Who knows.

Also, I had to defend my right to be a professional blogger to my husband again. Well, he's supporting me, and we're still content to use the library as our it's-not-really-complicated home base.

I guess it's just the fact that my other favorite Sara, you know, one of THOSE three bloggers...never came to my sanity defense like she was supposed to. And so, while I'm the sanest person on the planet despite what over-certified feminists prefer to believe...

my record shows that TV's can't talk, or at least, can't wink back at you on purpose.

An attempt, different than a try

More likely I'll just blog about all the repentance penetrating every thought in my soul. How fast this is happening, new worldview yet integrate the old. It's phenomenal, loving it!

Summer vacation is all that I'd hoped, spent much of today under the sunshine and low cloudbanks floating past. Dads and moms and dads and...such an interesting mix of our town's ethnicities. The heat felt so good.

Afternoon brought tuna fish for one, grilled dogs for two, left over pizza for numero three...and fresh-made chicken/pasta salad filled with veggies for me. Perfect day shall we say? Um, okay.

I miss you blog

This is my space to address the cosmos and its unfair grace. Building me stronger than I even know myself to be, that's something new and challenging, and I hate it to its face. Chose that rhyme exclusively.

I love all my backgrounds, my freedom to muse, that can't POSSIBLY change. Or it wouldn't. To expose myself to myself in private is still a right of mine on Earth. I cannot be dishonest with myself, my thoughts belong here. I'm a friend of my muse.