Rampage

I came home the other evening, weary and wanting nothing more than a cold drink and a quick nap before dinner. A couple of flies buzzed past me on the way to the fridge.

OK, time to nip this in the bud…

So I rolled up a newspaper and flicked at one as it landed in the window.

I scored a bulls-eye, but from behind the curtains a veritable cloud of disturbed relatives rose and swarmed about me.

*shOOt!* 

(guess those raw chicken scraps in the trash weren't sealed as well as I thought…)

And the frenzy was on…

I don't think you could accurately call it "blood-lust" -- (I may have let loose a "HA!" every time I landed a blow, but I also went "eeuwww" as I smooshed the bodies into a paper towel) (many blows landed yet merely stunned, so I had to be quick on the clean-up) -- but it was certainly an exercise in ruthless determination.

I went after that nasty red-eyed colony like a woman possessed.

I swatted and smooshed my way from kitchen to living room and back again -- a repeating, cyclical dance of death. 

I mushed on window panes, I flicked through curtain folds, and I caught so many of them on screens that I actually shredded the end of the Newspaper of Doom. 

About twenty-five minutes after the rampage began, I was able to wind down -- panting and disgusted but strangely exhilarated. 

I lost count after 37 but I continuted to brandish my paper for many long minutes after that, so I'm counting coup at well over fifty.

Towanda, Slayer of Musca!!
(eeuww...)

Deconstructionism -- Embellished

Due to circumstances I'd rather not discuss (but which can be found in the encyclopedia under "Emotional Eating; side effects of") I had to go shopping for a pair of jean capris -- in size "i need to slit my wrists now."  (Next life? I'm coming back as one of those people who waste away from distress, if it kills me!)

Now, any woman can tell you, this is NOT the sort of shopping you approach with diligence. Rather, this type of purchase falls into the "Short-term Emergency -- If You Can Zip It, Buy It" category and as such, warrants only a passing nod to fashion and quality.

So, I trotted off to the local version of an Odd Lots store. (You know, the kind of place where you can find good name brands, but in truly questionable designs.) And indeed, they had an acceptable pair -- good fabric, good fit -- but with pocket styling that not even a stoned tweenie would consider attractive. (Think reversed fabric highlights, inch-wide strips of intentional tatter, and shiny things of multiple sizes and faceting scattered hither and yon.)

Completely vile on the most nubile of derrieres.

On mine? ... Unthinkable.

Just... No.

Yet, for ten bucks, nothing a good sharp pair of scissors couldn't handle! :-D

So I plunked down my money and hied my purchase home, where, armed only with scissors, a straight razor, and the smallest of wood chisels, I hacked, snipped, and pried those eyesores into a much more restrained, modestly-funky pair of capris that even women of a certain age need not be embarrassed to wear.

(Does this make me a deconstructionista?)

My Newtonian Revelation

It's my five year blogging anniversary today. :-)

I don't usually make any fuss over the milestones of years, number of posts or followers -- those all make this feel too goal-oriented for my taste. As I've told you before, however, all my significant relationships seem to occur in rounds of five years, so this anniversary feels somehow noteworthy.

I had a couple of goals in mind when I started this blog but, as with most things in life, it didn't turn out the way I'd expected. I didn't end up writing the things I thought I would, I didn't end up following the path I'd hoped I would. But I was writing again -- and I learned that even people who don't know me might enjoy my words. That has been incredibly valuable to me and I thank you all for that.

It's been a heck of a ride these five years. For the most part, one of the very best times of my life. The last six months…? Maybe not so good. (Like, at all.)

Yet, the space I'm in now, while a place with more numbness and bruising than I might want, also feels quite familiar. I'm strangely comfortable here.

A while back, I had asked Literary Critic SP what he thought of the "zipless fuck" post.

"classic Jz. Strong images, good smell, maybe a little self-conscious, but that is a natural result of being in one of your super-removed self-protective observer modes…. "

(hmm... ok… well…)

Not long after that, I was poking around to find out the precise date of the blog's beginning and came upon this:

"SP notes that I seem much more engaged and connected to being alive."

You know those moments when two already known facts suddenly click as being related? That big, "OH!" reaction that it gives you?  Yeah -- I had one of those.

This space feels familiar because I've become detached again.  

This undoubtedly bothers me a whole lot less than it does some of you reading it. I'm quite used to it here, for all the reasons listed in the post above.

But those observations make interesting bookends for this five-year period, don't they?

I feel a bit like I've discovered my own personal First Law of Motion:

An object that is at a distance will stay at a distance unless an external force acts upon it.

I'm pretty sure there's more than one law of motion, however.

So maybe we'll all have to stick around another five years as I work my way through them...

:-)

Thanks for being here, all.

Eating Disorders

TMI Tuesday had some interesting questions again this week. I was tempted to tackle the whole bunch but I don't dare go all introspective at the moment, as it's rather boggy around here -- and I like you all and don't want to drive you away… 

So I sat this round out.

Or I was going to, until I got giggling at the bonus question:

Which method best matches your Oreo cookie eating style?
  a. Pick it up, bite into it.
  b. Twist it open, eat each half separately
  c. Twist it open, eat the frosting, then eat each chocolate cookie half separately.

I fall solidly into the "C" camp, I'm afraid.

"Hi, I'm Jz and I play with my food…"

I twist Oreos open and make individual courses of the component parts.

Yodels (HoHos, Swiss Roll Cakes, call them what you will…) suffer a similar fate. First I nibble the icing away, then I unroll the cake and scoop out the cream before finally getting to the cake. 

(This is best done alone...)

Devil Dogs get the middle licked out at the edges, by pressing and extruding as I progress along the perimeter...

And Hostess Cupcakes are summarily de-frosting'd before the cupcake even gets a sniff. (And if I can peel the decorative white frosting squiggle out of the chocolate topping to eat separately, I will…)

I was getting ready to declare, hand on heart, that I only perform these dissections on chocolate snacks, however, and to embark on an elaborate fantastical justification that would lay the blame squarely where it belongs, on the cacao bean…

After all, 

   Nutter Butters are safe from dismemberment,

   I've never molested a Twinkie,

   And cream horns are consumed intact. 

                 (mmm, cream horns!)

So, clearly…

Except then I remembered the part where I eat the cake off a crumb cake first, in order to maximize the proportion of cinnamon crumbs per mouthful as much as possible…

and set that argument ruefully aside.

I really don't do this with all foods.

And I truly am safe to take out to dinner in public…

I just have this little issue...

Patterns and Stories

"We are pattern finders -- We are storytellers.

We love to have reasons and this makes us find patterns when they simply aren't there…"

(Slightly paraphrased but pretty close, from a podcast on luck that I heard recently.)

*********************

Please tell me somebody besides me winced?

Because, really, I think I don't want to believe that life is nothing but your basic crapshoot.

My preference is to think that if you do right and try hard, you will receive something good at the end. Something other than just the satisfaction of knowing you did right and tried hard -- as you stare at your empty hands…

So I do try to analyze when things go wrong. I spend time, far too much of it, reliving the tale, trying to sort out where I missed the boat; where the tell was that I should have recognized -- because god knows, by now I should be able to see the pattern in all this. 

I search, so that next time, I can get it right.

It never helps.

And I never learn to stop doing it.

"Luck is just a word to describe the gap between chance and success."

TMI Tuesday!

Pick one. You must pick one. 

You can elaborate on your answer if you want, but you must pick one.

1. Are you male or female or other?

Female.

Even with being not-too-girly, there's not much room for confusion...

2. Dog or cat?

DOG.

Dogs are amiable. Trying to make friends with a cat is kind of like trying to make friends with me -- you have to be willing to beat your head against a whole lot of standoffishness. Dogs are much nicer.
And they don't make me sneeze... :-) 

3. Peanut butter or wasabi peas?

This is a really hard decision, cuz I love them both, but since I can only pick one, I'm going to say peanut butter. It's way more versatile, turning up as it does in cookies, fluffernutters, pad thai, and satay sauces, as well as on my English muffins -- not to mention straight up from a spoon.

Wasabi peas are up there, too. But only in trail mix or by themselves. So, not as much scope for inventiveness…

4. Group midnight nude swim or ‘mooning‘ strangers?

Unlike the previous, this is a choice of two evils. 

I'd almost rather die than do either. However, since I must pick -- and since I consider mooning to be asinine at best -- I'll go with the swim.

5. (there is no question five here.)

6. Bologna or Braunschweiger?

Bologna. 

I do actually get a craving for bologna sandwiches about once a year or so. (kinda like fluffernutters.) In fairness, I must say, however, that it only wins cuz I don't think I've ever actually eaten braunschweiger. If I ever do, I'll edit this response appropriately…

7. Vanilla or kinky?

While currently a totally moot point, I'll go with kinky for ten…

8. Rocky road or chocolate ice cream?

Rocky road. While I adore chocolate, my favorite flavors are the more complex, layered kind. You can certainly find that in chocolate but it's not a given. Whereas rocky road, by virtue of it's mixed nature, already has a leg up on that…

9. Red M&M or green M&M?

Green, for sure.

She's got sass!  :-)

One of my favorite desktop pix-

shared with you!

10. Pepsi or Coke?

Coke.

really…

11. Mini Cooper or Fiat Abarth?

Well, neither holds enough computers for me but of the two, the Cooper looks larger so that's what I'll go with.

12. Pleasure or pain? 

This one's a bit tricky but I'm going to go with pleasure. Because even when I'm in painslut mode, I'm there because it brings me pleasure...

See Who Else Is Playing!

TMI Tuesday

Green Things

Soon, God willing, I will write again…

Meanwhile, here's a little something that will hopefully make you laugh hard enough that you'll get coughing right along with me!  ;-p

(cropped to make censors happy)

Happy Friday, everyone!
:-D

A Muzzy-Headed Musing

So, as part of Old Home Week (which was an absolute blast, btw,) Tiny Woman came over and joined Cathy and me for a good ol' gabfest. The talk was mostly children, adventures, and love (fortunately my cough gave me an excuse not to have to contribute much) and near the end, Cathy turned to Tiny Woman and said, "Our next mission is to find someone for Jz."  Two faces swiveled to look at me, to find me shaking my head. At which point, Tiny Woman swatted Cathy on the arm and said, "Well, Jz isn't like you and me -- she doesn't really need anyone, anyhow." (At which point, two faces swiveled to look at her…)

Days later, I'm still mulling over how I feel about that statement.

At the moment, certainly, I felt grossly misrepresented, even tho' I know TW spoke in the spirit of support.

I can't say she's completely wrong, however -- I know why she said what she did. I've never been encouraged to lean on anyone, and I've never found anyone who wants to be leaned on… so I've learned how not to be dependent.

I can't say that that's the same thing as "not needing", however … and I'm danged certain that it's not the same thing as "not wanting"…

But the words got me wondering… is that muddling of terms part of my trouble?

A lot of subs here in the blogosphere have openly fretted over being "too needy" - worrying that their doms will be put off by the vast miasma of suffocating need that they seem to feel is emanating from them. And we always counter that with, "Don't be silly, your dominant wants you to need him"  - which genuinely does seem to be the case. 

Maybe that lack of dependence that I apparently project gets misinterpreted as lack of need? Maybe that puts off the people who want to be needed? And maybe the ones who are attracted by the independence think it means I won't ever want from them, so when I do, it feels like I'm changing my tune?

I dunno.

I'm not entirely sold on any one explanation.

But I still can't get that statement out of my head, either...