Excessive Halloween Drinking Fells Local Witch

I am very sorry to report that a member of my household, Esther, reluctant mother of Little Mildred and fair weather friend to Angel Angel was found to be drinking excessively on Halloween Day. It appears she attempted to fly without her assistive device and was fortunate to sustain only minor injuries on her erratic trip back to the couch..
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There is evidence that Esther ate twenty-one regular sized Reese's Peanut Butter cups and three extra-sized Mars Bars during her state of inebriation. She attempted to stuff the wrappers under a potted plant but she failed to cover them adequately and they were discovered by JB during a routine watering.
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Esther has not provided information about how much liquor she imbibed but she did report a serious headache and significant hiccups minutes before she passed out on the couch. Little Mildred and Angel Angel did not appear to be happy with the incident but both have declined comment at this time.
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Esther will not be distributing Halloween candy this evening as planned. The remaining members of her household none-the-less wish to wish their friends, family, and neighbors a Happy Halloween.
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*Breaking news: The kj household will be hosting the traveling Milo in the upcoming weeks, as part of his world tour arranged by Deborah of Midlife Poet. It is likely that Esther will be required to undergo a brief period alcohol rehabilitation in order to assure that Milo is not negatively influenced.

kj Has Recent & Erotic Book Reading

Scene 1: kj, Lolo, and Debra Kay have finished an excellent Sunday brunch in Provincetown. They take an easy stroll along the bay side of the ocean, greeting dogs and their owners every which way. In particular they meet an interesting and genteel woman who turns out to be a Poet Laureate. She is staying at a first floor condo directly on the bay beach until December, writing another book. Kj tells her she (kj) is also a writer.
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Scene 2: Debra Kay emails the Poet Laureate and invites her to join kj’s book reading the following day. Meanwhile, kj is mulling over the chapter excerpts she will read. This is Women's Week in Provincetown and kj has written a love story about two women who belong together despite many challenges. She has been invited by a local bookstore to read along with two other authors.
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Scene 3: Lolo and Debra Kay help kj make final decisions about her reading and listen to her run through.
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Scene 4: kj, Lolo, and Debra Kay arrive at the reading venue. A large, dark and well maintained room has been set up at a women's club. There are three stools with three microphones at the front of the room. kj sits on the middle stool, sandwiched by the two other authors who will also read excerpts. kj is excited and a little nervous. There are approximately fifty attendees, including Lolo and Debra Kay. kj sees the Poet Laureate arrive and they quickly and formally nod to one another.
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Scene 5: The author to kj's right tells kj that she writes erotic lesbian literature but she has toned it down for this reading. She laughs. Kj turns to the author on her left and asks what kind of literature she will read. "Erotic lesbian fiction," she replies. kj begins to realize she may have misunderstood the event.
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Scene 6: The author to kj's right begins. She is animated and comical. She reads something along the lines of: “Every cell in my body was on alert from that electrified embrace. She grabbed my head and pulled me close, so that I could feel her breasts, hipbones, and torso. I got carried away, and so did she. The cheering sounded distant and muffled. I felt every lick and suck as if it was happening to my crotch. I couldn’t help the way my entire body responded. I didn’t stop her. I had to have it like morphine after a self-inflicted wound. There was no turning back. And then I let go. I came hard."
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Scene 7: kj steels herself to keep a straight face. When it is her turn, she introduces herself by saying she hopes it won't seem as though she's reading the dictionary. She reads the story of Alex and Lily in three small chapters, and the audience applauds. Kj mumbles a prayer under her breath and steels herself for author # 3.
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Scene 8: Author # 3 is a woman in her 70's who has written about two college cheerleaders, or something like that, one of which is named Laurie, and both of which are facing issues of their own infidelity. kj looks straight ahead as author # 3 reads with the enthusiasm and animation of emptying a wastebasket.
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Scene 9: The reading is over and kj rejoins her friends. They cannot keep a straight face. They do not know when the Poet Laureate left. kj would be mortified if it weren't so hilarious. "I had no idea..." she said several times.
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Scene 10: kj sells three books and the Author to kj's right sells ten books. kj is surprised, but not defeated. In fact, kj is illuminated. "I'm a serious writer," she tells her friends. "Who knew?"
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Scene 11: Non stop laughter ensues for the rest of the day and into the night.

Ms Manners' and Ms. kj's Blog Etiquette

This is my own version of blog etiquette. Please keep in mind it's my uncensored wish list, which is not to say I think I'm right and someone else is wrong. But if I were Queen of the Blogs, I'd be ruling the following with a guiding hand:

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1. If I visit you, I like hearing back from you, either through you acknowledging my comment on your blog or leaving a comment on mine. The blogs work best with equal visitation when possible. I don't mean in equal measure every time. But even if I love your blog, don't expect me to keep showing up if you don't reciprocate.

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2. Please let's not act like we are still in high school. Cliques bothered me then and they bother me now. If you want to have personal conversations or establish a special little group that one way or another has everyone else passively on the sidelines, how about taking your comments off the blogs and into email? Or at least understand that the exchange might not be too compelling for others, like me. Okay, occasionally the back and forth banter might be fun, but the key word here is occasionally. I'm not coming by to feel left out or restless, y'know.

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3. If you allow me to get to know you and care about you, please don't just disappear. No one should feel an apology or explanation is needed for time away from blogging but, jeez louise, I'd like to know you'll be gone so I don't worry what's happened to you.

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4. I have a site meter. Not always but often I can tell if some one's come by for 15 seconds, just long enough to leave a comment but not long enough to barely glance at my post. It's okay if you don't read what I've posted and it's more than okay if you just stop by to say hello, but if you don't know or care for what I've offered up on a given day, there's no need to pretend you like it.

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3. It's fairly well established (I think) that I am not a prude and I am not afraid to say 'fuck' for good cause or effect. But please spare me from the language of graphic bodily functions and especially spare me from the reference to and use of offensive (to me) female body parts. The "C" word and the "P" word turn me off totally. Just so you know...

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4. Does anyone really need to include ads on her/his blog? If you are making good money from them, well then, okay, I'm glad for you and because I like your blog, I can handle it. But if you're raking in a mere $ 3.23 a month, please consider uncluttering your blog with this stuff. Just asking....

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5. I'm not perfect. Who is? Please don't feel like you have to be up and interesting all the time in order for me to enjoy, like or adore you. The blogs I cherish most often have a mix of emotions and challenges. They might be personal, or artistic, or spiritual, but the common thread is they are real. I like real. And I'm happy to say I love all the blogs I love for that reason alone.

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6. I know this is asking too much, but if it's midnight and my household is quietly asleep, I wish I knew I would be hearing sounds and/or music just as I click on your blog. This is one area where I just have to learn the hard way. When in doubt, I'll make time during normal waking hours to click in. Otherwise I'm risking an uprising at home.

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So! That's my list.

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I would be interested in hearing yours. Please, somebody complain about something: otherwise if it's just me spouting off, it could reflect unfavorably on me. :)

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And by the way--if it's not obvious by now--if I visit you and I've taken the time to add you to my sidebar, you and your blog are special to me. Please don't let that fact get lost in my gripes and grumbles, which by the way, have been rather fun to share. Care to join me?

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P.S. I have to add a caveat: the whole purpose of blogging is to be, do and say whatever is right for you on your own blog. The most important thing is to be true to yourself and do what ever you want on your blog and in life for that matter. (Just be kind...I've found that takes care of everything else.) I have not written this for the purpose of changing anyone and I hope nothing I've said is hurtful or disrespectful. It's just me, one person, who feels safe enough among friends to let it hang out abit.

xoxo

A Best Friend

This is my Mom.

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My mother's best friend is named Dottie. They have known one another for 76 years, since my mother, who is now 93, was 17. Dottie lives in the town where my mother and father lived for 63 years, When my mother moved two years ago to the rest home near me, Dottie was two hours away.
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The last time they saw eachother was at my Mother's kitchen table, at her last visit to her former home, when Dottie and her daughter and Mom and JB and I sat around eating coffee cake and drinking tea and soda and laughing about all kinds of memories.
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Dottie's daughter called me yesterday to say Dottie had had surgery that didn't go well and she was going into hospice. I called back this morning, wondering how my mother could see her friend. I started crying when I heard Dottie's eyes have been closed for two days now and her body is preparing its leave. I cried because this was a woman, barely five feet tall, whose smile and good humor lit up a room. She was a great friend to my mother: practical, reliable, cheerful, helpful.
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Anyway, Dottie's daughter told me that Dottie has only spoken twice in the last few days. Here are the circumstances of when and why:
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1. Dottie's daughter is telling the physical therapist that Dottie is 90 years old. Dottie mutters: "It's just a number..."
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2. Her family is trying to help her out of bed into a wheelchair. Her daughter says. "Be careful not to wrinkle her clothes." Dottie pipes in, "What's wrong with wrinkles?"
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Her children are going to remember these moments. And when I am old and ready to die, dear God, let me remember Dottie, and my own mother, and let me hold on to, and tuck under my angel wings, my precious sense of humor.

The Perfect Weekend

Our Ms. Emily Rabbit has leased this drawing to me for the tidy sum of $ 5. The artist is one of my best friends, Ms. Studio Lolo. I was willing to pay Emily for this rendition of 'jubilant' because that is the kind of weekend I had.

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First of all, my good friend Heather arrived Friday night and stayed until this morning. I only see her a few times a year and I delight in fixing her my homemade meatballs and spaghetti sauce. Heather is a fussy eater but she loves my spaghetti. That makes us both happy.

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On Friday night we along with JB went to the Iron Horse, a small music club, dark and inviting, little round tables all with a good view, to hear my friend Nerissa Nields perform with her sister as the Nields. They are a local acoustic folk duo with a national following, and they sang their hearts out. I'm not into pulling a link together just now but google their song "Clean Heart" and you'll know what I mean.

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I fixed breakfast for the three of us: yogurt, nuts, fruit, scones, coffee cake. I liked doing that and I liked that we sat in the little room off the kitchen and contently smiled at one another.

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My weekend only got better: I was alone puttering all day Saturday and most of Sunday while Heather and JB were taking respective woodworking and jewelry making workshops at a local arts and crafts place called Snow Farm. That meant my dog Stella and I had the run of the house.

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I blogged. I wrote. I talked on the phone. I visited my mother. I blogged. I wrote. I talked on the phone. I slid by the chores around me, every now ignoring everything that even looked like work. I did not wear a bra. I did not stack the firewood. I did not empty my suitcase, nor did I organize my office, pay bills, mail books, or empty the dishwasher. (I am lying for dramatic effect: I did empty the dishwasher.)

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I did whatever I wanted. I go for months without a day like that, let alone two days. My rhythm was restored.

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Tonight I had to hustle to write the reports, make the calls, finish the mail. But this is now. I'm talking about Then. Then I let someone I love named kj kick up her heels and do her own thing. And tonight, not long ago, that someone I love named kj told me she feels jubilant.

BOOK SALE! BOOK SALE!!

Hear Ye! This is a pre-holiday pitch on behalf of my beloved first book!!

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The publication of The Light Stays On has been sheer joy. It's a thrill to hold it in my hands, to hear from people who've read it and liked it, to see reviews and excerpts in print. I haven't done the promotion piece justice in recent months, but The Light Stays On is finding its way through Amazon, Barnes and Noble. com, some book signings, a recent book reading, and several favorable critic reviews.

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I apologize if you've come to my blog for leisure and here I am promoting my book. I haven't and won't do it often, but as a jump on the holidays, if books are on your shopping list, I am offering my blog buddies, here and at Blogland Lane, a discounted rate of $10 per book for purchases of two or more books (plus postage).

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To get this rate, you will have to order here (see my sidebar) using Paypal. I will include a beautiful bookplate with each purchase, personally signed by me and inscribed to who ever you'd like.

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If you prefer to pay by check, just send me an email at karenjasper@comcast.net with your mailing address. The shipping charge is $ 4.80 for one or two books, abit more for three or more.

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If you are not familiar with The Light Stays On, here is the synopsis from the back cover:

The Light Stays On by Karen Jasper
$13.95 List price
Publisher: Chihuahua Press

Is it morally defensible for a wife and mother to leave her family because she's fallen in love with someone else?
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What if that wife and mother is terminally ill?

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And what if that someone else is another woman?
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For Alex Fournier, it is the pull of obligation and duty to her husband and children. For Lily Peterson, it is the challenge of loving a woman who belongs somewhere else.

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They are apart for seven years, until a terminal illness strikes. When they finally meet again, they begin an unforeseen and unimaginable journey through a maze of confusing and tender connections with each other and the innocent people who love them.

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And here are some reviews:

Karen Jasper's first novel offers a suspenseful story tackling all the complexities of real life. With a terse, unsentimental and ultimately hypnotic use of language we are treated to a page turner. An account of what it means to be human and what is to be done about it. I would not be surprised if Karen Jasper takes her rightful place, front and center, on the modern literary map.

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This story has a magnificent way of being both light-hearted and warm while still raising heavy moral questions and thought-provoking discussions. It is told in an easy to digest fashion and makes you want to read thought the entire book in one sitting. With engaging characters and well told narrative, this book is a great read.

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Delightful story of friendship and love, I couldn't put the book down. The characters are so well developed and realistic. Karen Jasper's story telling ability grabbed me from beginning. You'll laugh, be sad, be happy and shed tears with this tender story of triumph, friendship and love in the best and worst of times. I look forward to the other stories and characters Ms. Jasper will share with us.
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From the first page to the last this novel will bring you joy and bring you sorrow. It will surprise you with its unexpected twists and turns and warm your heart with its portrayal of love. With psychological acuity, Karen Jasper gives us insights into the emotions and reasonings that guide us to make our life choices. Once you have begun reading your light will stay on until you've read the last line.
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Okay, I did it. I promoted my book on my blog. I did it. I hope you don't mind. And if you don't mind spreading the word, I would appreciate it. I have sales goals in my head, and I'm over the top excited by every single sale!!!

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Thank you, thank you.

P.S. If you're looking for my previous post, I pulled it. I said what was helpful and important to me and I thank each of you so much for your support and wisdom. xo

Animal Wednesday: Make. Believe

Hello! It's me, Emily. Did anyone miss me? I have been traveling and having fun. I have gotten in some trouble but not enough that anyone squealed on me or made me cry so all in all I would say I am fine, except I did run out of money for a short time until kj left her wallet on the coffee table.

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I told kj that I am going to write about make believe this-and-that today and she said, "Oh, that's a mish-mash." I don't think rabbits use that term very much but if you know what it is then that is what I am doing now.

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Here is my first make believe mish-mash:

kj's blog and blogland lane friend Pattee MADE this witch and kj bought it for JB. Her name is Gilda the Witch and she is in a little frame that is going to hang in the kitchen for Halloween. What do you think of the expression on her face? At first she scared me but really I think if she was not stuck in wax she would be fun at a party. Maybe she will turn out to be fun at a party even though she is stuck in wax. That's where the make-believe comes in. First you make, and then you believe.

I went to Provincetown with kj, Lololo, and Debra Kay (more on that later) and they saw this women in a restaurant and Lololo told kj to take a picture of her for their friend Soulbrush. It will be nice if Soulbrush likes this and it makes her happy, but personally I would be very very scared if I had to be alone with who ever this is. Something about her body doesn't look right and those two big circles and little circles don't look right either.
. Speaking of Provincetown, here I am with Mim, who was supposed to come but she didn't because she couldn't so kj, lololo and Debra Kay carried her around anyway and they couldn't stop laughing about it no matter where they went. They laughed just about all the time about it for three straight days. By the way, can you tell how messy kj is sometimes from this picture, because everything around Mim and me is not very neat, right?
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Oh, and here I am again with Mim in front of a house that Debra Kay painted for lololo. One day for an hour Mim came with me to meet Gregory Squirrel but I have to tell you she was way too prissy to have fun with. She kept complaining that she could not climb a tree in her dress and I said to her, "Mim, I'm a rabbit and I'm not even supposed to climb trees but life is short so why do you care?" but she just said hmmpfff! and played with her hair instead. To be fair, I heard that Mim was more fun when she had a few drinks so that counts for something good, right?
. The place in Provincetown was beautiful. Even I appreciated that.

I met Muck, Truck, and Fuck Duck on this beach every morning and we bobbed and bobbed and once I sat on Truck Duck's back and he waddled too. I told kj I was at the library most of the time when I was actually playing with my friends and staying out late. One time kj asked me what time the library closed and I knew it wasn't eleven o'clock at night so then I told her Gregory Squirrel's mother had invited me for acorn stew and chestnut pie and I'm not sure she believed me but I told her squirrels do not have phones so kj did not check my story but I made sure I was home right at 11 so it wouldn't blow my cover for the next day. I am very smart like that.

Before my trip to Provincetown I went to Cleveland with my mother and Uncle Bunny. I have not shown anyone a picture of my mother before but here she is and you can tell that she is a good mother just by the way she looks, right? This was taken before she married and multiplied with my father. My mother tries to be strict with me because I am only 8 or 11 years old but I tell her I need to help JB and kj because JB is sick and sometimes I beg JB to call my mother so I can miss school and go on trips with her and kj. Sometimes JB will do it but alot of times she won't so I have to be more creative with Make and Believe.

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My Uncle Bunny, you should remember him because he was a friend of Janis Joplin's,

is starting a rabbit pellet home heating business and that's why we were in Cleveland, which, by the way, was kind of boring, no offense to anyone reading this who lives in Cleveland. Can you tell Uncle Bunny is smart? I think this picture of him says so.

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I was very bored in Cleveland but I met two nice friends in Provincetown. Lololo, Debra Kay and kj spent 14 hours a day together for just about four four or five straight days and they laughed their as**s' off the whole time. (I am not allowed to swear on kj's blog except to mention Fuck Duck because that is his name. ) I was off doing my own thing most of the time but I like Lololo and Debra Kay a lot because I could tell they liked me and I don't think they would have gotten me in trouble even if they could have. Besides they are very nice friends to kj and I heard kj say that she thinks they would wash her back, whatever the heck that means. kj told me she said 'watch her back' but I know she said 'wash'.

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Have you noticed yet that this week I am saying and doing what ever I want and I am calling it make believe? I do that most of the time anyway, but if you like any of it, you should do what ever you want and call it make believe too. Because you should decide to have fun and not worry about anything except a few things.

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That reminds me about kj's poems. Lately and for a while they are either sad or serious because kj says her heart got cracked open, which to me sounds terrible but kj says she hopes it will be a good thing for her sooner or later. But anyway since I know some of the sorry details I would not be as nice as kj has been for even a minute. So I wrote my own poem about it and I think kj should follow my example instead.

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A Poem by Emily V. V. Rabbit

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So long good bye

You made kj cry

You were very mean

you lima bean!

You called kj names

and gave her the blame

You phony friend'

The End.

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I hope that everyone is happy to see me back on kj's blog. I am going to ask kj to pay me $ 15 this week because this took a long time to write. Meanwhile, don't forget what I am trying to tell you.

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MAKE. and then BELIEVE.

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Try it. I know I'm right that you will feel better following my advice but of course if it doesn't work for you it's not my fault.

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Yours Truly,

Emily Rabbit

For Love

I wrote this poem to hold on tight and true even when love hurts. It's one of my favorites.

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It’s only one arm,
Okay its dominant
But I can still
Raise broth to my frozen lips..
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Only one eye,
The other choked blind
Though still I see your shadow
Gracefully in flight..
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I gave up my voice
So I could hear yours
When the wires
Misfired and static reigned..
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My steps though mis-shapened,
Hobble past space
Where molecular memory
Settled in..
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Forgive me on a day
When my knees give out
And I whimper toward
Whatever grace isn’t..
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When I was whole
I moved too quickly
To notice almost anything.
Lucky loss has given me sight..
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My smile survived
because it double duties
With its tearful turn downward
At midnight, through the howls..
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Yesterday I watched a cattail
Bend and balance
And I remembered when
My heart moved like that..
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This loss of limb and life
Love lust and luster:
What a tiny price
What a tiny price..
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I wonder in the years ahead

Should my parts regenerate

If I will miss

The space I’ve forfeited..

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I wonder if sorrow

Might reappear as joy

filled with the love

That’s made me whole

Memo to kj babe

Lighten up!

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So you got hoodwinked.

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So you made a mistake.

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So you're still an aspiring babe.

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So what?

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Go for it anyway, kj.

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Really.

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Start now.

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Today.

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Just dive right in.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BEAUTIFUL BAINO

She has been my friend for a long time now.

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We met on the blogs, have never been in the same room or breathed the same air.

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Have never hugged or shared breakfast or gone shopping together.

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But when I've needed a friend, she has been there.

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She has understood without judging,

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Made me laugh for no reason,

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To me, she's a soft shell marshmellow,

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Steady, courageous, insightful.

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She's my friend.

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And when we meet and greet one another,

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And we will,

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I am going to hold her dear and near

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Which is pretty much how I hold her now.

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Happy Birthday Hells.

Love,

kj

Mim & Her Magical Vacation

So it came to pass in October of 2009 that four of many women from the land of the blogs arranged to meet each other at the land's end in Provincetown USA. They planned and plotted, playfully pondering their many hows and whens, and in the end they had a perfectly purposeful plan in place.
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But alas, it came to pass that one of the four of many women was unable to meet at the land's end in Provincetown USA because her husband and her mother-in-law needed her.
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So three of the many women from the land of the blogs met without her and laughed their way through four nights and five days of riotous non-stop adventures. But they could not escape the obvious vacuum caused by the absence of the woman named Mim. Being artistic creative types, these three women from the land of the blogs cleverly devised a way to overcome all obstacles so Mim could be with them afterall.
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This is the true unadulterated story of Mim's vacation adventure at the land's end:

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Mim and her friends started every morning with fresh coffee and a full breakfast. Mim enjoyed people watching from her special vantage point and she even got to pose with a topless comedian, which as you can see she shyly enjoyed immensely.

After walking along Commercial Street in and out of art galleries and waiting for Debra Kay to visit every pet related store in town at least once and sometimes twice, Mim and her friends never missed mealtime.

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And often at the end of the day, or late into the night, they would sit on the couch in kj and Lolo's cottage and talk about art, love, friendship, fashion, animals, dreams, and sex (note: in no specific order).

Mim visited the Artisan Cooperative that kj developed and made herself right at home on one of the metal sculptures:

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At one point Mim may have had too much to drink because her friends found her precariously involved with a older gentleman who may have been a wild cowboy at some point in his life. According to Lolo and Debra Kay, Mim was "rescued" in the nick of time.

Mim also attended kj's book reading. kj is not freely forthcoming with the details, but it was noted that she (kj) was one of three authors reading and let's just say kj was surprised to be the only one who never mentioned nipples or nibbles.

After several drinks at the bar at Ross's Grill on the Waterfront, Mim was desperate to find the ladies' room.

Her friends surprised her by arranging for an afternoon of kayaking. Mim was very very excited until everyone decided to have another round of drinks instead.

She loved all the art in Provincetown, especially the interactive art.

But Mim's very favorite thing to do was to sit with her friends and watch the world pass by.

Debra Kay gave kj and Lolo presents she had painted and embellished just for them. Mim could not resist making herself at home on top of kj's lovely box.

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Before her vacation was over Mim sought guidance and wisdom from ancient sources. But Lolo, Debra Kay and kj took her aside and told her all she needed was to be her wonderful self and enjoy the love and affection of her wonderful friends.

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And that and this, in a nutshell, is the story of how one of many women from the land of the blogs was dragged along on a Cape Cod vacation even when circumstance demanded otherwise. It seems good friends know how to make magic happen sometimes....

Mim Overcomes Challenges to Vacation in Provincetown with her Friends

Stay tuned...

Emily Leaves for Cape Coddy

Ride-don't-roll down-a-hill picture supplied by Ms. Lololo

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Hello! It's me, Emily! Did anybody miss me? I was in Cleveland with my mother and Uncle Bunny. Uncle Bunny is thinking about investing in a rabbit pellet company there that makes cheap heat. He told this man named Latimer O'Neil that he (Uncle Bunny) could supply all the rabbit pellets he would need and in exchange Uncle Bunny wants help in getting my father out of the NIH for good. The NIH stands for the National Institute of Health and my father works there, but he didn't start off working there and he can't decide to leave on his own, so that is not really working there, right?

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The story of how my father got involved doing research for the NIH is not very nice but since I am going to Cape Coddy with kj and Lololo I am not going to talk about that now but instead I am going to talk about my trip to Cape Coddy. Okay?.
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kj and I are going to leave around lunchtime. kj will drive her silver Toyota Rav that has all these loose lollipops on the back seat floor. She took out the bag of toys and goodies she lets her clients play with, but her car is still a mess. When kj was in college her father called her car Crap House Deluxe. If he was alive now, he would still say that and he would laugh when he said it.

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We are going to pick up Lololo and drive to Cape Coddy. I will sneak out as soon as we get settled so I can meet my friend Gregory and maybe he will give me more lessons on climbing trees, although really I don't care about climbing trees but I don't want to hurt his feelings so I pretend I care sometimes, but not all the time. kj and Lolo are going to meet their friend Debra Kay so no one will miss me, but I will tell kj I was at the library if she asks me questions. Saying you are at the library is always a good idea..
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I will also meet up with Muck, Ruck, and Fuck Duck and we will bob in the ocean. I don't know if I will be able to wear my favorite bikini because kj says it's cold but I hope I can. Here is a picture of me wearing it and smiling because I am holding money. Money may be the radish root of all evil, but it also makes the rabbit hole go round. (I made that up.)

So maybe I will tell you more later. Cape Coddy is a very very fun place. You know it is fun and safe because skunks walk right down the main street, and people have to move out of the way but they laugh in surprise when they do. I think that is a good thing.

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Sincerely Yours for Now,

Emily Rabbit

Another Chapter

I want you to know that here on my blog I will be editing and modifying some of the new book I am writing. And you should also know that while I call this a memoir of sorts, it is actually a novel. It is narrated by a character named Casey, not kj. And it is 100% Casey's story and Casey's perspective. Reality has a way of being seen differently, depending on where you stand.
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The chapters I post will not be in any logical order, (I am also not writing them in any logical order!) and I am going to try to mostly post short chapters, not long ones. Still, I hope the flavor of this story of love and bonds comes through. I thought the name of the book would be "Mutiny On The Open Heart", and I'm still considering that. But I recently discovered (uncovered) that this will be a book most of all about BONDS. So perhaps there will be other titles that make more sense.
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Anyway, here is a second chapter. No obligation to read it of course, but you should also know I orgasmically love the feedback. :)

Chapter
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Just about three years ago, I fell in love. At first sight, which was quite a feat since sight wasn’t involved until six months later. At first, I was intoxicated by elegant words that wrapped around my curious mind, vocabulary like petrichor and phrases that bounced from the traditional to the reckless. Then I was intoxicated by voice: an Americanized foreign accent that was at once soft and gentle and wild and harsh. This was not the kind of falling in love I had ever experienced before . For one thing, I am 22 years committed to a woman I adore and admire. Until one August in Blogland, when I received an innocuous email that would change everything, I was comfortable and content and unaware that my heart had reserved a good sized space for a new passion to creep in and settle into.
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This was a different kind of falling in love. It was to be a three year journey that would open me wide and wound me wild. But it was also a journey even now I can’t imagine not taking. I fell into it from the first moment, and despite too many reasons to regret the whole damn thing, regret is probably the tiniest emotion clanging around in this whole damn mess.

Poetry and the Deep Love Project

I love to rhyme. A couple of years ago I was accepted into a juried poetry project and I learned the hard way that rhyming is no longer in high poetry esteem. At the time I was crushed and deflated, especially because it was clear that my style was, well, comparatively not very polished or serious.

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My ego almost walked out in shambles. But don't feel sorry for me. It turned out to be one of the best writing experiences I have ever had. I was probably the least prepared and I was definitely the least published of the group, but in some ways I think I was the most playful and free. I stopped writing poems altogether for a while after that weekend, but the rhyming life can't be stopped forever.

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So in addition to the influence of this experience, I wrote this poem during my quest for "deep love." I wanted to let myself be open to love, to feel it, give it, accept it, live it., to drop my guard and trust. To be just myself, flaws and all. And I did. My deep love project didn't turn out the way I expected, and my inflated ego and poor little heart ended up in more shambles, but here I still am: still showing up for love, because the loving life can't be stopped forever either. :)

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So don't expect to read this poem in the New Yorker Magazine. But guess what? I don't care. I would write it again!

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Deep Love

Shape up
Dig in
Catch a break
Give and take
Steady your chin
Don’t give in
It’s not sin
After today
Have it your way
It’s not too late
So your fate
Will abate
Then it’ll be
Your scenery
With pieces back
And what you lack
Will fill again
And in the end
You will suspend
Concern and care
Instead you’ll dare
Toward brave and true
And wonder who
Could not renew
Every loving act
For you.

Bonds

This post has two parts.

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The first part is about this drawing.

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The second part is a first draft chapter from my new book, a memoir of sorts fueled by love, but tendered mostly by bonds.

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Part 1: I've written about her before. She is four years old in foster care, very aware and finally talking about how sad she is to no longer see her mother, her two brothers. This week I watched her doodle pretend letters to write a story that they are all together again. She asked me to write on the paper that I would not leave her, that I would always come back and she asked me to promise. Did I already say she is only four?

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Unless I get run over by a fourteen wheeler, there is no way in hell I will not come back. "This is my THER-A-PIST!" she tells anyone who will listen, a big smile on her face. And, did I mention I love her?

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Part 2: Book Chapter

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Tuesday are my long days: eight clients in a row, each seen at his/her home, meaning at least ten minutes of driving from place to place. I stack my sessions up this way so I can keep the job to three days a week. And actually, I like the flexibility and variety so much—I like the clients and their families so much—most of the time I don’t mind the wrapped up exhaustion I feel by the time I leave my last client.

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On this day I am driving to Yaddi’s house when a restricted call appears on my cellphone. Experience tells me it’s either Mrs. Molina, who enters the restricted code for reasons I do not know, or it’s the state Department of Children and Families. It’s the latter. It’s this solid social worker named Colleen calling to tell me that Jannie’s children are being removed that very moment. Colleen arrived at their decrepit first floor apartment and found Jannie and the three kids, ages 2, 4, and 5, huddled on the porch. The local sheriff had just blocked entrance to the apartment and locked the door and they were all being officially evicted due to Jannie’s failure to pay the rent over several months. According to Colleen, piles of their wrinkled clothes and worn decrepit furniture was strewn across the front lawn. Colleen said the kids looked stunned.
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“Jannie is taking the children to an Aunt’s house. I’m going to follow them there but I can’t let the kids stay. There are no extra bedrooms and I’ve done a search on the aunt. She’s known to us: she’s schizophrenic, not solid at all.”

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Colleen continued, “You should be prepared, Casey. I will pick up the kids unannounced. I’ll try to be in and out within five minutes. That’s the easiest way to do it. Jack and Alex will go to one foster home, Angelina to another. I couldn’t find a placement for all of them together.”
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I am new to this job. I am new to this situation. I know these three children and I know they will be frightened, will look to their mother, cling to her. I am particularly concerned about three year old Angelina. It was only five weeks ago that she was kidnapped by family “friends,” tracked down by the state police in North Carolina after three days on the road, presumably on their way to Disneyworld. The police stopped the car, arrested her “uncle Tito” and “auntie ZZ” and brought a terrified Angelina to the police station, where they arranged for her to be driven back to Massachusetts with a female police officer escort. As soon as she was back home DCF arranged for medical evaluation which showed conclusively that she had been sexually molested.

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It was not known then, and it has not become known for how many days or weeks or months. For several weeks after her return from North Carolina and just before the eviction, when I would see her mother Jannie for her weekly therapy session, I would see Angelina sleeping on the ratted out couch, her small arms outstretched, her face angelic. Not fucking fair, I would think to myself. Not fucking fair.

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I hear this news from Colleen and I want to cry. I know enough to know the kids will not be returned to their mother, not now, not for six months or a year. Probably never. I open my cell phone and call Isabelle. This is not unusual: we regularly call one another two or three times anyway during our workdays.

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“Oh Isabelle”, I moan, “the saddest thing is happening.”

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I tell her the story in abbreviated form. My voice is unsteady and I am close to tears.

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“These Americans,” she says.

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“Isabelle, I’m so upset. This is really sad.”

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“That woman shouldn’t have had kids. And it’s not the government’s problem to fix it. Where’s her family?” She is revving up for a conservative dissertation. I’ve heard it before.
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“There is no other family Isabelle.”
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“Well then that’s the way it is.”
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“Isabelle,” my voice pleading, “I am calling you because I need support. This is very emotional to me. It’s so painful to witness.”

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She continues. “Americans are so spoiled.”
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“Stop Isabelle,” I say. I am recoiling from her detachment. “I can’t hear this. I have to hang up.”

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.“Fine,” she says. And she is gone before I can say goodbye.

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A familiar emptiness rises from my stomach. It starts as an ache and finds its way to my heart, a pounding chill, as if I’ve been orphaned and I cannot find a language that can be understood.
God the fuck damn it Isabelle, I am shaking my head forcefully. I can’t say if I’m mouthing the words out loud or not, but I am enraged and afraid in equal huge measure. Why is she so insensitive? I ask myself. I don’t know anyone else who would react this way, who would seem so callous.

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Why do I love her? How many times has this happened: a hundred? Two hundred?

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What’s wrong with her?

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And what’s wrong with me?