the party’s over. Were some of you wondering what happened to me last night. Well - not actually “last” night - but Thursday night? Apparently they were working on some electrical/power thingee down the street that happened to affect about 4 blocks in my neighborhood. The same thing happened last year, too. They put a notice in the town paper and well, I don’t read the paper. Town or otherwise. I keep telling myself I should …
Anyway, about 9:30PM PST all the power just evaporated into thin air. I could almost hear it when it was shut off. It sounded like the air in a balloon leaving via a small pin size hole. sssssssssssss - silence. Like that. Pitch black. I had gone on alerts to pay attention to Jackson who has taken to tearing up his pee pads in his “cell” when Momma leaves him alone too long. We were playing a friendly game of tug and war (I was letting him win) and then we were suddenly enveloped in this dark eery creepy silence. I thought - OH SHIT. My family wanted to know why I was pacing back and forth trying to figure out what to do. Remember - they have no idea what I do in my little guest home in the middle of the evenings. I made up some story about being on call for a big web project - and then ran to Walmart to get a phone. Yes - I have a phone but the problem is: My phone is a cordless. It runs via electricity - like everything in my home, really. The television. The radio. My clock. My computer!!!. My very life.

So, I ran to Walmart - calling up everyone I could think of to log into my account and turn my alerts on to ARRANGE CALLS. I thought in the event I couldn’t find anyone to change my status that I could at least get an old fashioned plug into a cord phone and take calls on that until the morning when power (and sanity) would be restored once more. I was freaking out. And I was having a really great nite, too. I was horny - I was creative and I was having a great time until the world went black. So I’m in Walmart - in a part of town where there WAS power. I kept looking at people with jealousy leaking out of my eyeballs, sure that they lived in the part of town where they could watch a movie once they got down shopping. I’m sure they could go into their fridge and cook something in their microwave, not that I wanted to eat necessarily - but there’s something about not being able to do something that makes you crave doing it, you know? (Several sexual acts just popped into my mind to give as examples…I’ll save them for my calls… *wink*) So while I was hating everyone I came in contact with at Walmart - I found myself in the pet section. Please…don’t give me any grief. I had no power in my home and was losing customers at every minute. I had to shop for the dog - there’s just something therapeutic about it and I needed the joy and rush from the shopping experience. (I don’t really have a problem, by the way. I could stop buying shit for the dog any time I wanted to. I just don’t really wanna stop right now. But I can stop instantly if I felt like it.) I bought a few toys because the 100 toys I have at home is not enough for Jack. Then I bought some mechanical pencils for Algebra because regular pencils just drive me batty and the 10 other mechanical pencils I had weren’t enough. By the time I made it to the Walmart I had 15 items in my hands. I had walked right by the cart because all I went into Walmart for was a damn phone, remember? 45 dollars later I made my way to my house which was still dark. My family called up to me and told me they were reading The Secret Garden (not the Secret Garden by Nancy Friday - but the Secret Garden children’s book) and I was welcome to join. I declined the offer (and would have if the other Secret Garden was the book that was being read, too - for slightly different reasons) and made my way to my dark house in the woods. I plugged in my phone (success) and looked at my lap top wishing I had dial up. I then took my tired ass to bed and read my “Puppy School” book. I fell asleep shortly thereafter after hearing from Momma Tee that despite her sure case of food poisioning, she had logged me off of Niteflirt before dragging her body in to worship the porcelain goddess.

So I’m sorry - for anyone who was trying to contact me on Thursday Evening. It was not my intent to log off forever - I was going to come back - but it just wasn’t meant to be.

Tonight I logged in and took a few calls (Joe, Catwoman, Jerod, Math Tutor, etc,) spoke to my Tiffy while my family ignored the phone pressed against my ear and spoke to me about 80’s costumes and other things. Tiffy just sat and giggled as she eavesdropped and I shook my head hoping that they wouldn’t reveal anything too personal. Tiffy always wants to have an inside look into my life - and often gets it. As if my diary wasn’t enough - speaking to me while I’m sitting outside in the lawn chair by the fountain always brings about interesting conversations and encounters, huh, Tiffers? It was a busy evening - and now I’m going to tuck my behind in bed and *gasp* do some Math homework. It’s growing on me. I’m solving equations now with variables in them (the value of the variables are given so it’s almost like solving a puzzle of sorts.) Very cool but don’t tell my Math teacher that - he already is patting himself on the back for successfully getting a B out of me on my first quiz. lol. You know what though? I have a certain amount of respect for math. It’s either right or wrong. No ifs, and or buts about it. It’s one of those subjects that doesn’t rely on a well thought out argument - or some sexual favors from teachers in order to pass a test. (FUCK!) You solve the problem - there is only one right answer. That’s it. And there is something really satisfying about that one right answer. I find myself working the problems now and really wanting to know if I got it right. And when I get something wrong - and pout for a minute and whine to my family about how hard it is - I go back to that problem and work it out until I get the answer I know I’m suppose to have. I study the process - remember the rules - and lo and behold… I get it. It’s not “simple” yet - but there are definitely parts of it that are clearer to me. I can dig it. But let’s just keep that between us for now, okay?

New subject. I’m not sure if I mentioned it or not - but there is a pet store not very far from me where I would go and pick up little treats and toys for Jackson. They have a lot of stuff in there and it’s closer than Petsmart so I thought it was a great find. I noticed that they had a puppy in the window but I didn’t really think too much about it. Until I started reading a bit about back yard breeders and Puppy mills and stuff like that. Everytime after I started to read about that stuff I had this feeling of uneasiness whenever I went into that Pet store - like I was being … what is the word I’m looking for - disrespectful? I dunno - I guess that will work. I was being disrespectful to the puppies by giving my business to part of the problem. If the pet stores refused to sell these puppies then slowly the puppy mills would go out of business. See? So I decided to stop going to the store - and the day I decided I would never put a foot inside of that store again I saw in the window a little Maltese - about the same age as Jack - with some of the worst tear staining around his little eyes that I have ever seen. He looked alone - sad - not played with and hot in the little plexiglass cell in front of the window. 1600.00 they wanted for him. If I had the money I would have been tempted - but again - I would have been contributing to the puppy mill problem since the puppy would just be replaced by another born out of the same extreme conditions. It broke my heart seeing a little maltese in the window though. There was also a Shitzu and a Boston Terrior. The Boston Terrior was already showing signs of distress by eating his own poop and the Shitzu just paced back and forth or whined pathetically at the passerbys.

A friend of a friend bought the Maltese I just found out today… (that was the news, Tiffy.) Ugh. I wonder how he is doing. I’ll have to keep you up to date on his progress. I really want to do my part to not support these puppy making machines. I just think there is something wrong when profit comes before the well being of a puppy. And it makes me feel just a tad bit guilty that I bought a doggy that would have very little chances of NOT being adopted/bought instead of going to the pound like several people told me to do to get a puppy with fewer chances of finding a home and a family that loved him. I know for my situation I couldn’t have a puppy that was too big - it just wouldn’t work in our home - but I could have held out for a rescue, I’m sure. Or maybe I could have waited and found a smaller puppy even if it wasn’t a “pure bred”. At least my puppy isn’t some result of some puppy mill. At least my puppy wasn’t bred in some back yard of someone who knows nothing about genetic testing to make sure the puppies are given every chance of developing with out the problems that run amuck with toy breeds. At least Jackson’s parents were part of a family that cared about them - and not stuck in some shed with piss poor conditions and … you know what? I’m going to stop now. I’m sure I’ve made my point. Probably about 50 sentences ago, huh?

I’ll be back on tomorrow evening some time. I have absolutely nothing on my agenda tomorrow except to play with the kid Jack, fold my laundry, and finish cleaning my room and complete some math homework. I have a few little errands to run - but nothing that won’t be done before logging in tomorrow evening.

Thanks for keeping me busy tonight, men. It was indeed my pleasure. I’m pretty sure the power thingee is taken care of and won’t return this weekend - but in the event that we are speaking and the line completely goes dead - I have another phone and a flash light.
The party will not be interupted. I’ll make sure my vibrator is close by though just in case the batteries go dead. Maybe I should get some batteries tomorrow while I’m out and about. I won’t be caught (unprepared) in the dark again.

Arg. I know what this post is suppose to be - really I do. I had it all planned in my head and I was going to write it down and it was going to look really pretty and then I was going to go to bed and put in “The Big Chill” and watch it because I remember catching some of it on tv not so long ago and wanted to see the whole thing. It looks like a sort of St. Elmos Fire for people over 40. Anyways … I had plans. Honestly I did. But when I started looking at my feedback that I was going to feature in this post - again I felt like … ugh. How can I just pick and choose some feedback and leave the others? It just doesn’t seem fair somehow and I’m too much of a pleaser that the thought of insulting someone or not mentioning someone that “deserves” to be mentioned bothers the hell out of me. I’d rather not thank anyone (lol!) or thank people privately. So that is what I’m going to do. I’m going to start sending out little notes privately - fuck it. *wink*. And in here I’ll just mention a few from time to time. That is my decision - and hopefully I won’t have to start another post off this way again. (I noticed that every time it comes time to do this I have a paragraph of disclosures before I begin. I’m annoyed with myself even if no one else is… blah).

So I have made a decision. But first let me explain. LOL! It’s not a disclosure - it’s just the full story… you’ll see.

So one day last week I was minding my own business when suddenly I received a call. Now this call was like no other. The fantasy was just wild - and purrfectly relayed to me by a very special young man. I listened, I absorbed and then I went to “work”. We played and I totally started getting into his fantasy and I realized how much fun I was having and then *tear* it ended. My caller thanked me and told me that he would leave me great feedback and I replied to him that if he called back that would be the best feedback ever. Honestly - I still stand by that, by the way. Well a few days later I saw this feedback from Catwoman fan:

Uhhh-myyyy-gddd! Wow. If you like detailed advice from a younger perspective . . . GO Elsewhere (she’s mine!).

LOL! How absofrickenlutely adorable is that?! I literally laughed out loud when I read that. Especially the Uhhh myyy gddd part. So totally me. See? totally! So to my catwoman fan: It was easy as pie being wonderful for you. You are purrfectly purrfect in every way and your fantasy is just so much fun for me to do. I’m glad we met - and I’m glad that you called me back tonight - and I’m glad that you went ahead and left me feedback because it made me laugh and smile and remember what a great time we had. Thank you so much, dahlinnnnng!

During the same time period - and it might have been the same evening - I received an email. Now even though I suggest that people email me with their fantasy requests if they are nervous and feel there are too many details and want me to get it “just right” - I sometimes fear that it’s a ploy that some customers use to get some free “advice” or whatever. But this email seemed to be written directly to me - it wasn’t a form letter like many of the letters I receive from potential clients. You know the kind: Dear Advisor Of NF. I love your listing! blah blah blah… Form letters just scream “form letter” and no girl wants to feel like someone is just going down the line cutting and pasting and who ever responds is the lucky recipient. IF they call at all that is. So just a quick note of advice before I get back to my feedback (lol) - at least put in the advisors name. If you said, “Dear CeCe. I Love your listing!” and copy paste everything else I at least know you took the time to write Dear CeCe if nothing else, right? Ok… so back to the email. It was long - and detailed - and I thought as I read it - okay - let me tell the gentleman that I will do his fantasy and see if he actually calls me back. Well hells bells he did. And this is what he said. :

One of the best role players on NF! Thanks for reading my e-mail and paying attention to all the details!

Confession? Role play gives me a taste of the actress that I secretly always wanted to be. LOL! Seriously. I take my roles seriously. If I get a request for something I’m not certain about I’ll be googling it before you call me up. If I get some specifics about costumes or nails or hair or boob size or whatever - I’m a google freak. I want to get your fantasy right. It makes me happy to make you happy. I love hearing from people, like you Mike, that tell me that you got exactly what you needed and it went exactly how you had planned. I know that when it’s in your head it’s in your head in a specific way. I want to honor that and give life to your fantasies and you know … do them justice. So I’m glad that I was able to do that for you and the you had a great time and great call. Thank you for the sweet feedback.

Before I call it a night because it is late… wait… I have 2 more things to talk about. Darn. This is longer than I thought it was going to be. Anyways - one more “shout out” - and that goes to Mr. Birthday Boy. I’m so sorry I missed it, hun, but I’m sending along a little something for you anyways. Hopefully you’ll accept my apologies - at the time I was going to write myself a reminder and I forgot to write myself a do not forget note about it. Did you follow that? Good!

Happy Belated Bday Sweetie Pie Sugar Bunch. I’m sorry I missed it - I hope you had a great day and that you got spoiled and got to eat yummy cake and pizza. I also hope your friends didn’t make you wear goofy hats and that you got great presents and didn’t need to return anything. This is what the belated bday boy said to me in his recent feedback:

spent way more on this call then I should have, but it was the best I ever had on here, and I got addicted! It was my birthday present to myself. (Even though my birthday isn’t for four days!)

Happy Happy Bday!!!! I know that you also left additional feedback about me being patient and stuff and I told you then and I’ll tell you now - don’t worry about how long or if it should be longer or whatever. Just relax when you’re with me and know that you aren’t “bothering” me and I’m not frustrated. I just wanted to make sure you had a great time and that it wasn’t too frustrating for you. Know what I mean? If you’re happy then I’m happier. Customers really do “come” first here, you know.

So there you have it. My little shout outs. These are so random and I’ll probably not get around to doing them again for another month - but I did want to take a moment (again) to thank everyone I mentioned - and everyone I didn’t mention that are die hards and know me better than my own momma right about now!! You all make “flirting” so much fun!

Ok - let’s tie this up, shall we? I got a B on my math quiz. I should have gotten an A - but I made some really silly mistakes and lost 3 points. My teacher hi fived me after my performance. On the quiz, people! Shesh. It was easier than I thought it was going to be. I thought that it was going to have all kinds of geometry questions from the first chapter but he ignored all that stuff - thank God. Ok - the rest of my classes are good. I think I’m going to start writing about the girl and the internet job… whose father is a Pastor. a sort of Cumming of age story, so to speak. *wink* I can’t believe the weekend is almost here already - and Jackson is trying my patience. I still love him - even more today than I did yesterday - but he’s testing his momma something fierce. Remind me to tell you about the puppy pad disaster on another day because if I start talking about it I’ll talk about it for the next hour and a half. I found some really delicious treats for him at PetSmart today and as a result I ruined his dinner. I’m almost embarrassed to say this out loud - but I really think that I will have tasted at least one item of Jackson’s food before the end of the month. I’m just curious and it smells fabulous those pupparoni sticks. Yum my.

I’m losing it and going to bed to retrieve it. Night.

Maybe I’m doing a bit of intellectual make up by posting 3 (count them 3) posts in the past 3 days. Maybe I just got tons of stuff to say and time enough to write it all down. I did have the insight today while speaking to Tiffers and telling her my story that I did have a post inside of me that was just begging to be told. Thank her for the post happy mood I’m in currently.

So anyways - today was the BIG day. Today was the day that I met with my screen writing class and pitched 3 great ideas (or what I hoped were 3 great ideas) and prepared myself to choose one story to tell with the help of about 20 people I know nothing about. It was very scary - but I went 2nd. I knew it had to be done - as quickly as possible. I read my ideas and I waited for … I don’t know what. I’ve spoke to Rolf about this before - but being that I’m pretty determined that this last “I know what I want to be when I grow up” decision is the last one, I’m really scared about putting myself out there with my good ideas. I’m not totally insecure - but I have to admit that I still get a little thrill when someone tells me that I’m on the right path. I know I have the passion to do almost anything I put my mind to - if I have the passion, that is - lol - but still sometimes I doubt myself. My ideas were received really well, however. Actually all of my ideas were GREATLY recieved - and being that my peers were judging me that made me feel somewhat better, I guess. The proof is in the pudding, however - so so what, really, if I have great ideas if I can not execute them well. For the next few months I will be cramming my little brain full of techniques and the right way in which to write this screenplay - and the rest of the time I’ll be attempting to put the story in a somewhat formatted form to be recieved (hopefully) by the only audience that really matters: The Industry. The truth is - this city in which I live is packed full of people wanting to be either the next big producer, the next big movie star, the next big director, the next big photographer, singer, writer, drummer, phone sex operator, porn star, activist, playboy bunny, sitcom star, designer, Chef, personality, or roommate of any of the afore mentioned. To quote some singer who wrote some song I can’t quite remember, “Everyone wants to be a star.” Everyone. At least in the town I live in. And even I know (rose colored glasses and all) that not everyone is meant to be one. I’ve realized that there are two things that are desperately needed in this town: perseverance and luck. One I can’t do a thing about - and the other I need to work extremely hard to have. Every book I’ve read so far tells me that I have to look at writing as a job. I collect journals but have yet to fill one - isn’t that kinda sad? So I have to practice my craft. I have to take classes (check) and I need to read about people who are successful in my field (check) and I need to do what they do. So I’m going to blog. And I’m going to journal off of here, too (of course) - and I’m going to become one of those people who is afraid of forgetting the little details so commits everything to memory. Yup. Just thought I’d share that little stream of .. .whatever it was.

This weekend my cousin came to visit. I wish that statement could just stand alone. I wish that was all there was to it - just another event that happened this weekend that I felt I should throw in. Alas - that is not the case with my cousin coming to visit. What happens when my cousin comes to visit is a series of … how can I say it? Adjustments. We kinda know that we’re not going to operate the same when he is around. Things seem to move in slow motion mostly so that he can keep up. My cousin from the time he comes to visit till the time he gets in his little car to leave - is high. High like a kite high. High like nobody’s business high. From sun up to sun down the scent of his “cigarettes” fill the air high. At first he would light up in the house - but then my family suggested he may want to do that outside. Now he stands by the fence that separates the neighbors from us and smokes. He stumbles around making off color jokes and innuendos and then slowly makes his way to the dinner table where he piles food on his plate and eats about a 3rd of it. We watch a lot of movies when he’s around - mostly cuz when we have taken him out with us it’s embarrassing. But he is an orphan - has no family of his own - and I’m sure he doesn’t really have that many friends - and if he does they probably are just as high as he is and don’t really remember him, I’m guessing. And before I get grief for this post - I’m really not anti-drug or Nancy Reagan-isk. Hey - if you wanna do whatever do whatever. I’m cool with it. As long as you’re not asking me if I wanna join in - or driving in a car on the same freeway I travel while under the influence - and um - taking care of your responsibilities. I don’t mind what whoever else does - I just mind when it drips on over to my “yard” - or in this case - my doggies little pen. Yeah. You heard right.

So after school I come on home and he’s still here. I slowly make my way to my room - and I take a little nap. I needed it. I REALLY needed it. I wake up - and he’s gone. I go look in on Jackson to make sure he’s doing ok - and thinking I’ll play with him for a bit which in Jackson language means “I get to run around and slide across the wood floors bumping into things as I go along and chase you while showing my razor sharp puppy teeth and successfully biting your toes and causing you to scream in delight”. I lean down to pick up his poop and there is this little canister laying next to him - like a canister that film is kept in. You know the kind? I’m thinking - what the hell is that? And I pick it up - open up the little lid that has jackson’s teeth marks all over it - and WHEW LAWD JESU’ the smell! Yup. Cousin T. was definitely here. Thankfully Jackson had not been successful with his little biting activity so I almost sighed my relief until I saw a little … leaf/bud something laying next to his food dish. I pick THAT up - smell it - and yup. So now I’m concerned. I pick up Jackson and I look for the signs. Yes - I know the “signs” I’m not completely daft! Finding his eyes clear and no sign of redness (and he wasn’t wearing sunglasses to hide his eyes either - ala Jack Nicholson) I then check his food bowl. I figure if M.J. makes people get the munchies - then maybe Jackson also got the munchies and ate up all his kibble - but it was all there. Thank God. But then I’m looking at him like why didn’t he eat anything. I pick him up and he just lays there in my arms - mellow. Just chill-laxing. I look him in the eye and ask him if he’s high. He doesn’t respond. I place him on the floor and he just looks up at me like, “whoa” - and then looks down at the floor before laying on it. He NEVER does this when he wakes up from a nap. So now I’m convinced. My dog is stoned. And then I start to freak out. How the hell am I going to explain this to the vet. Will he believe me with the ever popular “well - my COUSIN had the stuff - I don’t do it” statement? Will they have to pump Jackson’s little tummy? Can you OD on MJ? Damn my cousin. Shouldn’t he know better - he is like - as old as my parents for crying out loud. How do you drop your stash in a puppy play pen (gated area of the kitchen) and NOT NOTICE? HOW?

Jackson is fine. I don’t think he needs to go to Rehab. The consensus is that he’s actually much better behaved while under the influence, however. My cousin is going to get a talking to in the next few days. I hope they aren’t TOO hard on him - I mean - he does have a prescription for the stuff so apparently he’s not just a hobby flyer. lol. No one was hurt - it’s all okay - and I’ll know to better trust my instincts when he comes around and remove Jack from the grounds. Perhaps I’ll put him in a safe house or something - like a shelter for doggies whose owners are dependent on drugs or something… there has to be a place like that somewhere…especially in the city that I live in.

I’ll check in tomorrow because I need to let everyone know how my math test went. Just to make sure everyone is on the same page as Rolf and Tiffy - I HATE my math teacher. And just to prove to him I belong in the class I HAVE to get an A on my algebra test tomorrow. I’ve been studying all weekend - I’ve completed all my homework - and now it’s the final test tomorrow. Not the FINAL test - just the final test for me for this class. If I don’t do well he’ll suggest I go to another class - a LOWER math class. I’m already on the ground with this Algebra class so I definitely don’t want to go lower. I will if I have to - but I’d rather prove my teacher (but mostly myself) wrong on this one. Pray for me. or pray for the callers I get on Tuesday if I don’t pass. Someone will have to pay… (evil laugh.)

My mother use to read to me when I was very young. Every so often she still reads to me - under the guise of a newspaper article she thinks I’d be interested in, or some magazine article that talks about the proper ways in which to train puppies, or something educational like that. When I’m feeling the most “little” I’ll curl up next to her with a book in my hand, and ask her to read a chapter for me. She’ll idly twist my hair around a finger (or two) and read in her soft, animated voice and I’ll decide immediately that I am content. Her reading to me sparked up this habit, I believe, of me reading outloud to myself when I’m feeling the most vulnerable or tired or pensive, I guess the word is. The sound the words make when I speak them calms me and often I can fall asleep much more easily than if I were to read silently. Maybe watching movies at night and falling asleep to them is in a way a bit like my reading to myself, too. I like voices and the way they caress words. I always have imagined the most romantic date. He would read to me, of course, as I lay in his lap - looking up at him and blinking when bursts of air wrapped around the words from the book. He would twist my hair around a finger or two and I would place my hand over his - my thumb gently caressing… Yep. I don’t think even the best kiss (and I am a true believer in the ULTIMATE kiss!) could beat being read to by a lover.

There are certain books that I have on my list that I haven’t been able to share with just anyone. I have the William Gibsons, the Tony Morrisons, the Shakespear and Jane Austin - but there are also books from my childhood that I know will eventually line my shelf. I think Golden book (?) made these little books of fairy tales and bible stories that I just have to have. The books were - I don’t know - about 10 pages long - and had colorful pictures that took up half the page. They were hard covered - but easily grasped in your hand. I don’t know how to describe the feeling I have when I see one of these golden books - they have them in the grocery store down the street and I always fight the urge to buy one (or 10). I would read them too - if I bought them, I mean. Even if I knew every story - I would read them while drinking a glass of milk or something and I would feel (I’m pretty sure) everything that I felt when I was younger and my mother read the same books/stories to me. Books are really powerful - and I know that sounds “trite”.

My auntie had a bunch of books on her bookshelf in her old room and every time I would go to visit my grandmother I would eventually make my way into her bedroom. I would sit on her full size bed with 3 books in my lap: Heidi, Some Nancy Drew Mystery and A Wrinkle In Time. I would spend hours on her bed reading and reading and by the end of the weekend I would have completed every one of those 3 books. Every time I went to visit it would be the same thing - I would go to her room - would pile the 3 books on the bed beside me and I would read. Yes - I would often do other things, too - but by the end of the visit - those books would have been devoured by me. My favorite book was, of course, A Wrinkle In Time. I identified with Meg - being rather awkward and brilliant myself (lol! Ok - not brilliant - but certainly awkward!) and I LOVED the “Mrs’” in the books - they always reminded me of my little great great Aunt Lu on my daddy’s side. She was short and wore her grey hair up in this really messy school marm type bun - and stayed single for her whole life. She also smelled strangely of those butter mints that you find in bowls during weddings or in dishes at Church Socials or whatever. I have read A Wrinkle In Time more times than I can even recall - and have followed the tales of Meg and her brother (and later her daughter) through all the books that followed A Wrinkle In Time. Last year when I taught Bible School during the summer (don’t laugh) - I gave every kid in my class 2 books - CS Lewis’ The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - and A Wrinkle In Time. I think I’ve made my point a couple dozen sentences ago - the book is brilliant and one of my top 10 books guaranteed.

So in honor of the author who I was upset to hear died a few days ago - pick up a copy of the book and read it for old times sake. Seriously. Get over the whole “religious” part of it - and just read it as a spiritual/ethical lesson if it’s easier to swallow. Buy a few copies of the book and pass it along to a kid who may be awkwardly entering junior high and who feels that no one understands him/her - they will really thank you for the gift one day. If you’ve read the book once before - read it again - I’m telling you. You can always find something in that book that appeals to your life at any given moment. I think I’d also like to suggest the other books in the WIT (Wrinkle In Time) series. There’s A Swiftly Tilting Planet, A Wind In The Door - and I can’t remember the others off the top of my head - and I’m on too much of a roll right now to google it.

Madeleine L’Engle - I will always always always remember you - and be eternally grateful for the lessons you taught me in your books. I’m also quite amazed at your scientific abilities - and mathmatical genius as evident in your character’s aptitude of these subjects. Be blessed - stay safe and warm and know that your “spark” helped lessen “Its” hold on me.

I’m going ahead and taking the plunge. I’m writing now because I know that should I wait any longer to write this post - it will be the length of my screenplay I need to submit by semester’s end. That really isn’t much of a problem except that I have no idea how to pitch it to my class mates. *ahem* Yes, esteemed classmates and somewhat cute but slightly aggravating professor, I would like to pitch my blog - YOUR TEEN WET DREAM. Picture it: teen girl living with her family - father is a minister - she’s slightly on the innocent side with a slight open bite that is being corrected with braces. She stumbles upon Niteflirt - this on line community of sorts - where girls can advertise for stimulating sexual conversation. She starts with a flourish - taking calls as often as she is able to because, frankly, she enjoys the attention, sex play, and exploring the nasty side she has kept hidden for several years under the pretense of straight A student and virginal only daughter. Suddenly she receives THE call that changes her life forever and before long she is knee deep in … in… um… sin. She attempts to break free - to find some sort of balance between her life as a student, upstanding citizen, obedient daughter, and organist for her father’s church - and her life after dark where she masturbates frequently to the moans of her callers. But is it too late? Will she be able to regain some sense of “normal” or has she crossed the line of no return? Coming soon - to a theater near you….

See? just doesn’t quite work, does it? Though it does excite me to think about my professor’s comments and feedback. Wonder if he’ll put a new “spin” to it after class? *wink*

So here is the long awaited for blog entry. Hope I don’t disappoint. I’m a bit out of practice…

A few days ago I woke up to a series of Charlie Horses. First my left thigh was attacked. I’m usually not a baby when it comes to physical pain. I will cry at the drop of a hat when it comes to my feelings being hurt - but I’ve pierced my own ear for crying out loud (by pushing an earring thru it - I didn’t really think paying someone to push an earring through my ear was sensible when I knew I could do it myself…), stepped on a few nails, twisted my ankle I don’t know how many times, popped my knee out of the socket and had it pushed back in and finished the softball game I was in immediately afterwards, completed 50 ab throw downs at the gym with my personal trainer and lived to talk about it the next day - and through all of these physical tribulations I’ve never shed so much as one tear. I’m a tough girl - don’t let the appearance fool you. That is the rather lengthy “set up”. Here’s the point: When I woke up and was immediately attacked by Mr. Charlie Horse - I moaned so loud my family came to see if I was alright. I stood there perched on one leg like some drunk, sleepy stork while my family ran around me offering me advil, vitamins, hot pack, cold pack, and finally some spiritual laying of the hands ritual to ease my pain. Nothing worked. Finally I asked for some icewater - and either the shocking cold liquid at 6:00AM - or the 10 minutes that had passed - finally cured my spasm. I limped slowly to the couch stretched out a bit - and then was rewarded by another charlie horse in my calf. Serious pain - and not a kind way in which to greet the morning.

While I was recovering from my Charlie Horse Hell - I started to think about this schedule I’m on for school. I’m thinking I might have been a tad bit over zealous when I signed up for my classes. I’m literally exhausted. I spent all day today sitting in a chair in the living room watching old episodes of TOP CHEF. I have seen all the episodes of this season at least 50 times but I sat there and watched them anyway. Then I watched one of my favorite movies with my family - and I don’t watch movies with them often. My family (and I am included in this familiar trait) are talkers during films. That’s if we stay awake during them. We’re the annoying people in front of you at the theater who talks to the characters, solves the crime, tells the person who is being chased to watch out behind them, and names every movie the person on screen has been in. We’re truly annoying. Yes - I’m including myself in the annoying family trait category. To my credit, I did math homework while I watched - and I did complete another huge section of my Math homework. My point (damn I’m all over the place right now) is that I think I’m taking too many classes. I’m just a little bit overloaded. Parenthood, School, Work, and I think I have the beginnings of a social life, too. I’m exhausted - and it takes a lot for me to admit that - but there it is.

So until further notice - change the times I’m available at night to 8:00PM - Midnight - Mon-Thurs. and then Friday - well - I’ll try to log in but maybe you all wanna call me or set up an apointment if earlier times are needed. Saturday I’ll attempt to log on before 7:00PM, how about. And Sunday … let’s just play that by ear, k? I’m really sorry. I’m trying hard to settle into what my little tiffy correctly identified as “pattern”. There is a rhythm to my madness when I am in school and I’m desperately attempting to find it. I think it should be clearer in the next week or so once my first examinations are under my belt.

Jackson is fine. He’s growing up into a rather attractive puppy. He is mostly sleeping through the night by my side - but he’ll wake up every now and then to pee a lake on his potty pad…and well - I have to wake up to escort him to it. He’s a good eater, loves his little chicken strips - and is hilarious when I bathe him. He also loves biting people on the fingers, toes, ankles - whatever he can grab on to with his razor sharp baby teeth. I wish he’d use it on his rope toys but he doesn’t find them half as appealing as human flesh. I’d be more worried except everyone (including his Vet - whom he adores!) tells me it’s just a stage. The other day I went to kiss him on his little puppy snout and he bit my lip - top one. It was just a little nip but those teeth penetrated a few layers of my skin with little to no effort. God it hurt. I teared up a bit and looked at my son and told him firmly, “no bite” and he got the cutest hurt look on his little puppy face. I stood my ground though and eyed him down. He finally looked away from me - whimpered - and then softly licked my cheek. Ask me if I’m still mad. Go ahead. How can I be mad at such a cute little boy doggy? He insists on being the alpha dog and ruling the home with his cute looks - but nah uh. I’m Mama… I wipe his ass and pick up his poop - I will be obeyed. If only in the fantasy version.

So again - I’m sorry for not being around as much as I had originally promised. I will eventually strike some sort of a balance and in the meantime I’ll try to at least be weekly in my entries (lol) and let you know here what my up coming schedule may be. Thanks for the patience, calls, letters, presents, tributes and well wishes. And to the comments I’ve received - I haven’t forgotten any of you and will be calling you out in later week/s - don’t worry.

wet, delicious, teeth free kisses,