The Peanut Chronicles

I love my son. I love him more then anything in the world. Don’t get me wrong, if he does something wrong I’ll call him on it but I still love him. Today, my adorable 7 month old turned into a two year old. All because it was dinnertime.

Round one:

Nut doesn’t want to crawl. He doesn’t dig the whole “tummy time” thing. Instead, the baby bear wants to go straight to standing. I know that he needs to crawl first, but to watch him stand with help is adorable. Today, when going into the high chair, it wasn’t so cute. Paint if you will a picture: here I am placing the nut into his chair and all he does is stand on the seat.

Peanut, please bend your knees,” says I, hoping that by some miracle the words will make sense and like a trained dog, Nut will bend his knees. Instead he responded with “gaaa goooob ba ba ba ba ba” and continued to stand, leaning against the back of the high chair, with a cute little smile on his face.

I try again, this time putting the spoon on the tray. “Peanut, you need to sit down to get the spoon!!” Nutter looks at the spoon and then back at me. He smiles, leans over and picks up the bloody spoon!! Again, the victorious smile as he leans against the chair.

I eventually had to literally bend his knees and plop his booty down. That was a total sigh of relief… until…

Round two:

Today, we got the Nut some new and improved bibs. They are bigger, they are brighter… they have rocket ships on them. And the perk for mommy is that they are wipe down bibs! Oh yes! They are waterproof! I rejoice and do my snoopy happy dance.

However, Nut doesn’t seem to like them (so there is hope he won’t want to follow in dad’s footsteps). I put it on. Instantly he pulls it off. I put it on, again he pulls it off. The kid has reflexes like a ninja. On, off, on, off, on, off…. Wax on… wax off… eventually I have to pull out the big guns to distract him. I whip out and suction cup to the tray his Melissa and George Bee High Chair toy. It’s a wooden bee on a suction cup with pulls strings that make its wings twirl. Nut loves it.

It worked. Nut was distracted enough for me to get the bib on and quickly run to the cupboard and get his favorite meal: puree Carrots.

Round three:

I assumed that because he was so happy with the bee that he would be even happier with his carrots. I was WORNG. The first spoon full of carrots into his mouth, which he usually devours, was met with a pout, a face, and then a raspberry. I kept going, ignoring the fact that he sprayed carrots allover his tabletop. Once again, a raspberry. I put down the spoon to answer the pager (on call still). Nut put his hands in it and started playing. But it gets better… he was eating with his hands. I leaned forward to double check that he was actually eating it and promptly got an ear full of carrots.

By the time we were done eating the carrots, Nut was coated in carrots. However, so was I, having had my little Nutter throw food at me, blow raspberries, grab my glasses, pull my hair, and eventually kick the tray to the ground, spraying carrots every where.

All this ended with us laying on our backs next to each other, COATED in carrots, cracking up and kicking our feet in the air. When daddy bear came home, Nut was handed off and got a bath. I changed out of my PJs and smiled. Yes, there is a huge stain on the carpet I am trying to get out, but I will always have that stain as my momeory of the first food fight with my son.

I've been KOed by carrots and my kid.

My plan is in motion. Oh yes. It is a go. Now that I know how much I am getting paid, the secret plots are beginning. The bear will be so surprised this Christmas.

Other then that, my first night on call wasn’t bad. I expect Friday and Saturday to be pretty bad though because that’s when the teens want to go out and according to law, they HAVE TO BE supervised at ALL TIMES.

Uh. Yeah.

I still like my job a lot although the wall of the damn of crisis burst open for one woman today and her kids. It wasn’t too bad. Can’t say anymore but she was very melodramatic about the daughter kicking a flagpole.

Uh. Yeah.

I came home and gave Nut his usual bath. He is now sitting like a champ but can’t pull himself up into the sitting position. We have to put him there and then he can hold it. He babbled for his ducks (YES!!!!!! HE LIKES THE DUCKS!!!!!!) And read his waterproof story with me. Then he held the book and splashed it around. Afterwards, we put a t-shirt on him and tucked him in and read goodnight moon.

I HATE THAT BOOK!!! IT DRIVES ME NUTS!!! IT’S THE COLORS!!! FOR FRIGGING SAKE…. GREEN AND ORANGE?!?!

But did anyone else notice that it ties into the Runaway Bunny? Exactly…

Nut likes goodnight moon and so I would be a bad mother to deprive him of it so….

Uh. Yeah.

Now I am here, alone, and relaxing for a few minutes. It’s kind of nice. I noticed today that I lost hearing (yes more hearing) in the right ear. It feels like there is air in it but there isn’t. Crap. That really sucks. I suppose it could be worse. It could be my GOOD ear that’s giving me shit. But no… so far it’s just the bad one.

Oh, and guess what I found in storage yesterday? I’ll give you a hint… I am pretty sure it’s the devil. Give up? Yeah. I found the Elmo doll. And it still works!! Scary shit. Let’s talk devil for a second. Do you realize that the new Elmo TMX rolls on the ground when laughing? And it doesn’t look like a seizure. It doesn’t look like a heroin overdose. It looks like a tantrum. As scorp put it, “who wants to have their kids see that?” Further proof that Elmo is the devil. Seriously. I mean it. I may be delusional but I can safely say that it is evil in a sock puppet.

The sad thing is I didn’t capitalize any of the Elmo references above and the spell and grammar check knew who Elmo was to correct me.

Uh. Yeah.

I was looking at different areas to get my continuing education that I need for my licensing and I found that the small, private university in Outskirts, the one RIGHT NEXT TO MY HOUSE, has a doctorate program in psychology with concentrations in spirituality and somatic features. How cool. So I decided to look to see how much the classes cost just because I was curious on how much a PhD would cost.

Five hundred. A UNIT. A FUCKING UNIT. FIVE HUNDREND FUCKING DOLLRS! Let me put this in perspective for you: the whole degree? 68 units. 34,000 dollars for a fucking degree. Wait, I think that is how much I spent on my BA. But I don’t have 34 grand to spend. 500 a fucking unit!!! University of Metropolis offers a doctorate for about 40 grand (and only offered me a stipend of 10). Fuuuuck.

However, first thing is first. There is offered continuing education for the license. Woohoo!! Guess I won’t be flying to the Concrete Jungle anytime soon for those classes. Second, I can also add a certification for art therapist onto my master’s with a few classes there as well. I think this would be a great idea, since I did write a book about art therapy (which sold a few more copies according to my tally sheet on line.)

Then I met today with Colleen. She listened to what my friend thought and totally disagreed. Guess what? I am stressed. Didn’t need to pay money to be told that. She thought that Pig hit the nail on the head. Thank you Pig.

I also got paid today. Yes! Since I haven’t been paid in about two years, the paycheck was well appreciated and needed in all honesty. It was great to actually be able to deposit money into the account instead of just taking it out.

By the way, if anyone can explain this, then you are a hell of a lot smarter then me. Here is what I need for my license:

A minimum of 2,000 hours in clinical psychosocial diagnosis, assessment, and treatment, including psychotherapy and counseling.
A maximum of 1,200 hours in client-centered advocacy, consultation, evaluation, and research.
Of the 2,000 clinical hours required, no less than 750 hours shall be face-to-face individual or group psychotherapy provided to clients in the context of clinical social work services.

Supervised experience shall include at least one hour of direct supervisor contact for each week of experience claimed. An associate shall receive an average of at least one hour of direct supervisor contact for every week in which m ore than 10 ours of face-to-face psychotherapy is performed in each setting experience is gained. Experience must be obtained over a period of not less than 104 weeks and shall have been gained within the six years immediately preceding the date on which the application for licensure was filed.

I am sure it seems simple but in reality, it’s not. Yesterday’s meeting at the licensing group we went around and around on this for 2 hours, causing more headaches then headway. In fact, my head swims already trying to think about all the difference and what qualifies as clinical psychosocial diagnosis assessment and treatment as well as what qualifies as client-centered advocacy, consultation, evaluation, and research. And then decided how many hours of supervision you get and by who and what their degrees have to be in…. yeah, it was confusing.

So that’s where everything has landed. So far.

And I still LOVE my job. LOVE IT.

Oh lord. I have traumatized the Nut again. When will I learn? Today’s adventure gone wrong has nothing to do with ducks (although there is an update to that story which will come later). Today’s adventure gone wrong DOES involve water though.

Nut and I went to the car wash today. I thought, for sure, and the daddy bear agreed, that Nut would probably LOVE the car wash. You know, the colors, the water, the noise… what isn’t to love?

Well, Nut didn’t love it. Not at all. In fact, I had pulled the car into the wash and climbed out of my seat to watch the Nut’s reaction. It’s a good thing I did. He began, almost immediately, to rev up with a scream. I quickly wedged myself between the drivers and passengers seat, smooshing my boobs at an unusual direction and grabbed Nut’s hand to coo to him, “it’s all right baby, I am here.”

He didn’t scream, but he did look concerned. After awhile though, he would look at the wash that would shake the car and brush the windows, get upset and then turn and look at me and smile and coo.

But, when we got home, we hopped in the bath as we always do. This time, Nut grabbed a duck off the shelf and spent the whole time in the bathtub playing with it. Which duck? The camouflage one.

Sigh, I guess my happy hippie duck will not make the Nut a pacifist. Damn it!

Mamma C called from Alabama wanting my opinion on her son. All hell broke loose over there. It’s the butterfly effect, I swear.

Nut sleeps soundly on my lap right now. He loves to sleep on my belly. I know having him sleep on his tummy is a bad idea and probably makes me a bad mother but be sure that as soon as he is fast asleep I roll him over to his back. It’s worth it. He likes hearing my heart.

I received the best thing in the mail yesterday. I got my master's degree. I don't really know what to make of it. I mean, in reality, it's just a peice of paper with my name on it in fancy letters. I don't really feel anything about it. it was something that just needed to get done to better support the Nut and the family.

however, I can't help but do the Snoopy dance and grin a whole hell of a lot.

more on this later, I need to take Nut to the lepercaun's house for babysitting (yeah, I KNOW. Shut up.) then I have to go to my licenseing class. its' gonna be fun because I get to hang out with a bunch of people I haven't seen in a while. oh, and study, but you know...

"I had a wonderful opportunity to speak to a group of nursing students in
Columbus, Ohio on Friday, on the topic of self-injury (as a consumer). I
brought along my copy of your (amazing!) book, and passed it around for them
to see. One of the students would like to purchase a copy. When you get a
chance, could you please let her know how she can get one? And if you don't
mind, CC me on your reply, so I'll have the information for the future. I
have several other such talks scheduled, and will be taking your book with
me wherever I go. : )"

woot.

“In my sick way I want to thank you
For holding my head up late at night
While I was busy waging wars on myself
you were trying to stop the fight.
You never doubted my warped opinions
on things like suicidal hate.
You made me compliment myself
when it was way too hard to take.”

I am Pete’s Coffee House enjoying a cup of tea and avoiding my father in law who is babysitting Nut right now. Yes, this is a test drive. I was supposed to work really late tonight because the CPR class was taking place and respite was needed but instead no one showed and so I am relaxing by myself and having a cup of chamomile tea.

I am trying to figure out my schedule for the next few weeks. I am on call for two of them and then have the wedding back home and then come home to be on call again. When on call, you can’t go more then 25 miles out of the area of encashment for your cases and the other cases from the team. What’s interesting is now that school has started; the on call pager is going berserk. I think that it is rather interesting that there is a correlation.

Yesterday, after work, I went out to Metropolis to have dinner with my friends. Jo looks great, Zanna seems sad (her cat is close to the end) and Pig was Pig. I got a call from LC while we were out and she is ready to get started so we need to get together sometime next week. After next week I am on call so it’s either now or never. We all had so much fun. They remarked how well I looked and how cute Nut was. We had discussions about people in our lives and events taking place. It was nice to hear their opinions on things and how they see it. I admire them all. They are so great to be around. They also found that CW is totally out of line. After all, what does he know? Jo and Lad are breaking up and Jo is going to move down to the south. What ever is good for him. In the end, we have decided that these meetings are going to take place once a month. It was like being back in social work class again together. Who knew that we could talk shop still? LOL Next time we are going to a place called Orange that is in the posh area of Metropolis. Zanna can pick up the bill (JUST KIDDING!!!)

Next up, this weekend and adventures with SD. Yes, Nut and SD are going to meet. Scary thought but the time has come. We’ll see how it pans out.

GS and I are calling it quits we think. Its kind of one of those things that is good for both of us. It’s like an addiction that needs to be quit and it’s incredibly hard to do so. My drug of choice. Sigh.

My boss thinks I am cool. Why is this? She threw a very large caseload at me. Very large. And everything was behind in notes, checkups, safety checks, contacts with the kids, and just unorganized in general. She simply said, “I am so sorry” and handed it over.

Eleven days later, I am caught up. I hate when work is disorganized so that was my first task. Today, she called because after our all day meetings in the plain lands she wasn’t ready to bear the tolls and highways to get to Hades for a measly hour before turning around. She wanted me to call a family and reschedule a home visit.

Already done.

She wanted me to confirm with another family for tomorrow.

Already confirmed, canceled and rescheduled.

She wanted to make sure I had the paper work for another family for Friday.

Yep. Done and copied.

She wanted to make sure I knew where I was going tomorrow.

Google maps already printed to family’s house, from house to child’s school and reverse directions to get back from the farm to Hades.

Done. Done. Done.

She wanted to make sure that I was keeping up with the case notes.

Finishing last paragraph as she called.

She wanted to know if I had emailed her to remind her about the meeting rescheduled for Monday with the home that canceled.

Emailed, voice message and post it note on her desk.

She wanted to know where I had been all her life?

I laughed.

Yep. I like my job a lot and my boss likes me. Cool beans.

I have traumatized my baby bear without meaning to.

What the hell happened? It’s simple….

Everyday when I get home from work, I play with the Nutter, feed him (more like he sticks his hand in the food, rubs it on my arm, blows strained pea raspberries at me, claps his hand, pulls the glasses off my face, and giggles as I try not to die of laughter), and then after this very enlightening process, we both hop into the tub. In the tub, I read Nut his bath time book (consists of six sentences about a dirty duck taking a bath and it’s water proof so he can splash and chew on it all he wants) and playing in the water. My little Nut likes to kick the water, rather then splash with his hands. Recently he has been grabbing the shower curtain and his book as well.

I figure, since the Nut likes his book so much and giggles when we read it in the tub, I would get him a rubber duck or two. We were in Metropolis yesterday eating at a great restaurant down the street from the shop where Nut literally grabbed a duck off the shelf to send to Sarge in Iraq. While we were saying our goodbyes to Fly Girl and her mom (who are spending 3.5 weeks in Europe, those lucky bastards!) I quickly ran down to the shop and bought Nut three rubber ducks. One was an army duck, like the one we sent to Sarge, all camouflage and with black horns. I got a back duck with horns and red racing flames down his side like a racecar. And finally, I got a hippie flower power “if you’re going to san Francisco be sure to wear some flowers in your hair” white duck with big brightly colored daisy flowers all over it. No horns...

Today Nut and I got in the tub with the toys. We read our book. We giggled. And then Nut sees the ducks. He is quite and not moving. He is in a trance. I pick up Hippie duck and give her a little squeeze. She squeaks.

NUT SCREAMS.

Now, I am not talking an “I am getting tired of the water mom” scream. I am not talking about a “Scream of joy melting into giggles” scream. I am not even talking about an “I’m cold!” scream.

I am talking about a bone chilling, blood curdling, "I’ve walked onto the set of the Texas chain saw massacre” scream.

HOLY.SHIT.

He then starts to whimper and cry. Instantly, I snuggle him so he can’t see the evil ducks and there happy evil smiles assuring you that the bath is all right but in reality they come to life and then try to drown you. I pick those motherfuckers up and chuck them out of the tub… out of the bathroom… into the hall.

Maybe I let Nut watch Toy Story too many times. The rest of the bath was uneventful. But let me tell you this…

Nobody fucks with my kid.

Not even rubber ducks.

wow... people really like my book!

I did receive my copy. It is absolutely incredible. You did a great job of
putting it all together. Many of my friends have asked where to get a copy
and I have referred them to the publisher. Thank you for doing this project... It
has proven very empowering for me and helped in my continuous healing
journey.

as well as...

Thank you so much for you hard work. It was truly
inspiring!

and of course...

got the book 2 weeks ago...it's good! Good luck on the selling of it...I hope that you can get it into the hands that need it the most. I hope and pray...that my message will be helpful and full of hope. Thanks for telling my story!

woot.

Rocking out with my mom and dad at my first rock concert. it was so cool. everyone thought I was adoreable.

In the mail today I recieved the following letters from volunteers from my book:

I received my copy of the book and the starbucks card-thank you! I have spent the week reading the book then speaking with the advocate at this end who assisted me- we salute you in your effort and celebrate with you, your family, your friends and associates. This is such a valuable book. The processing of events by visual means, certainly a took for everyone, the artist and the spectator. When anyone taking up a pencil or a brush or any means to create that third thing- self-expression O. Words fail me all the time!! Just know how proud we all are0 and of course everyone (also me) would like to get copies…

And…

Joanna,

I can't thank you enough for the opportunity to participate in such an
amazing project. Your book is a truly spectacular achievement! I'm looking
forward to having a chance to read it. I've been showing it off to all my
friends, and they've each been duly impressed.

Not to mention….

Hello Joanna, How are you? I hope this finds you well. I received a package from you including my collage, a gift card to starbucks and a card from you and YOUR BOOK! I was so excited to receive your package! Your book is AMAZING! You did such a fantastic job and what a lot of work! It is excellent and I wanted to thank you so much for the opportunity to participate. Thanks you for choosing to write on this topic and for using real life stories. It was interesting to read all of the stories, although it is sad that rape occurs way too often… thank you for providing a platform to address, discuss and share the reality of it!! THANK YOU JOANNA!!! I wish you all the best as you enjoy motherhood and family life! Take care and many blessings to you. May god bless you richly!!

For someone who has not too much self esteem, for once I feel good about something that has really had an effect on my life.

“When we forgive evil we do not excuse it, we do not tolerate it, we do not smother it. We look the evil full in the face, call it what it is, let its horror shock and stun and enrage us, and only then do we forgive it... but never forget it.”

AS most of my friends know, I collect quotes. Philosophy, music, poetry, political, anything really. I like finding quotes to fit my moods (which as vast and many). In fact, I invite anyone reading this to leave a quote. Most of these quotes go into my journal but often they pop up in my blogs as titles or in the writing.

Today was hilarious. I was out with Scorp, my new boss, getting coffee. I found a quote that I thought was poetic:

“It’s tragic that extremists co-opt the notion of God, and that hipsters and artists reject spirituality out of hand. I don’t have a fixed idea of God. But I feel it’s us-the messed up, the half crazy, the burning, the questing- that need God, a lot more then the goody two shoes do”

Ahhhh…. As Scorp pointed out, it’s kind of interesting to have philosophies printed on coffee cups. Yes, your morning latte and a thought for the day. Frigging ingenious.

I have started planning my road trip. It’s many years in the making. I am going to walk the American Discovery trail. I think I am going to do it when Nut goes to his first year of college. I’ll go out to Cali and walk across to DC. It’s something I have wanted to do and dreamed about. This is my quest. To follow that star. No matter how lonely. No matter how far.

(Quick, name that quote!)

Today while Nut and I were taking a bath (our new routine) I found not only Nut kicking the water rapidly but also… grabbing his penis. My god. He IS a boy. Always playing with his penis. I guess he has discovered his new toy. And I doubt he will ever stop playing with it. However, I am going to have to teach him not to grab himself in public.

oh yes... and I am still trying to fix my links. be paitent.

I love my job. I love it love it love it. What I DON’T love about it is Nut not being near. Yeah. I know. Sappy.

Today I met my clients for two families. One of the little girls (she’s about 10) wrote a song about her birth family and what it was like for them to leave her. I thought, it being a ten year old and all that it would be mostly silly rhymes and other little things to a tune that was already known. I was wrong. So wrong. She pulled a guitar out of her room and sang me a song in a voice that was so astoundingly clear and beautiful that I wondered why she didn’t have some sort of contract. And the song? Amazing and haunting with words I thought ten year old would never know.

Sidebar: I asked how she learned those words. The last thing her gma gave her was a thesaurus before disappearing.

I was truly amazed at the precocious young lady. It’s a shame that she has no siblings that she can share her writings with. She also told me she writes poetry and uses it as an out let for her emotions. Seriously, it was amazing.

As we wrapped up our meeting she turns on me and says, “Is it true that you know sign language?” I told her it was true. She got all giggly and started to talk really fast about how she knows the alphabet and learned it in kindergarten and “can you teach me more so I can have a secret code with my friend Nicole?”

It was cute.

Last night the Bear and I took little Peanut to his first Baseball game. I am disillusioned with baseball because of the steroid scandals. My grandfather was disillusioned over the strike a few years back. He was also pissed at the “thrown” World Series in the early part of the last century (yes, he was old). I think that I am thinking about him a lot because his birthday is tomorrow. I certainly miss him and I think he would have really liked to have taken his namesake to see “his boys” play, even if we did lose (by one frigging point!!!) Nut was asleep when we got there but woke up when the crowd cheered for the first hit. We sat in the left field flay ball area. Great seats. Nut opened his eyes at the sound of the cheering and looked around all excited. He watched the score board the most and we got great pictures. He is sitting on his own now and kept trying to reach for me and Bear’s garlic fries. It was really cute.

I am going to bed. I am exhausted.

I am also super excited because I am going out with some really good friends of mine to Metropolis on Tuesday night. Oh yes, partying like rock stars. Hahahahaha…. Riiiight.

Oh yes, and some how all my links got erased. If you read this and I don’t have you linked, leave a comment so I can find your site again please!!!!

I have two takes on this day. Yes, I like everyone else in America, remember exactly what I was doing on 9/11. I was babysitting Mini-me as his mom had an early shift at the Federal Wildlife and Game building in Scarlet Wood. he wanted to watch the Tigger movie. I turned on my little TV and saw the first footage. i put in his movie. an hour late rwe went to his school and dropped him off. I went home, ditching class because I was wondering what was going on, turning on the TV and freezing as I watched in horror. I wondered what all my east coast family was doing. where they were. if everyone was OK. I wondered about colly wog who caught a flight to NY that morning.

McG called and said "please pick up my son. the schools are closed and the building is in lockdown". I got Mini me and we spent the day eating oreos and watching Disney movies (he was 7 at the time) I didn't go to model for the art class that afternoon. it didn't matter, the university was closed. I just stayed with Mini me.

there are two beautiful songs with lyrics that are haunting that I always find myself humming on this day. the first is "I can't see NY"

From here
no Lines are
drawn
From here
no lands
are owned
13,000 and Holding
swallowed
in the purring
of her Engines
tracking the Beakon
here
"is there a Signal
there
on the other side"
on the other side?

what do you mean side of
what things?

and you said
and you did
and you said
you could find me
here and you said you would
find me even in Death
and you said
and you said
You'd find me
But

I can't see New York
as I'm circling Down
through white cloud
falling out
and
I know his
lips are warm
but I can't
seem to find
my way out
my way out
of
this Hunting ground

From here
crystal meth
In
metres of millions
In
the end
all we have,
soul blueprint.
did we get
lost in it
do we
conduct a
search
for this

"from the other
side"
from the other
side?
what do they mean side of
what things...

and you said
and you did
and you said
you would find me
here and you said that you would
find me even in Death
and you said
and you said
You'd find me

But...

I can't see New York
as I'm circling down
through white cloud
falling out
and
I know your lips
are warm
but I can't seem
to find my way
my way out
of your hunting ground

you again
It's you again
I can't see
I can't see
New York
from the other side
from the other side

I Hum
from the
other side

yes,
us people are just poems
we're 90% metaphor
with a leanness of meaning
approaching hyper-distillation
and once upon a time
we were moonshine
rushing down the throat of a giraffe
yes, rushing down the long hallway
despite what the p.a. announcement says
yes, rushing down the long stairs
with the whiskey of eternity
fermented and distilled
to eighteen minutes
burning down our throats
down the hall
down the stairs
in a building so tall
that it will always be there
yes, it's part of a pair
there on the bow of noah's ark
the most prestigious couple
just kickin back parked
against a perfectly blue sky
on a morning beatific
in its indian summer breeze
on the day that america
fell to its knees
after strutting around for a century
without saying thank you
or please

and the shock was subsonic
and the smoke was deafening
between the setup and the punch line
cuz we were all on time for work that day
we all boarded that plane for to fly
and then while the fires were raging
we all climbed up on the windowsill
and then we all held hands
and jumped into the sky

and every borough looked up when it heard the first blast
and then every dumb action movie was summarily surpassed
and the exodus uptown by foot and motorcar
looked more like war than anything i've seen so far
so far
so far
so fierce and ingenious
a poetic specter so far gone
that every jackass newscaster was struck dumb and stumbling
over 'oh my god' and 'this is unbelievable' and on and on
and i'll tell you what, while we're at it
you can keep the pentagon
keep the propaganda
keep each and every tv
that's been trying to convince me
to participate
in some prep school punk's plan to perpetuate retribution
perpetuate retribution
even as the blue toxic smoke of our lesson in retribution
is still hanging in the air
and there's ash on our shoes
and there's ash in our hair
and there's a fine silt on every mantle
from hell's kitchen to brooklyn
and the streets are full of stories
sudden twists and near misses
and soon every open bar is crammed to the rafters
with tales of narrowly averted disasters
and the whiskey is flowin
like never before
as all over the country
folks just shake their heads
and pour

here's a toast to the folks living on the pine ridge reservation
under the stone cold gaze of mt. rushmore

here's a toast to all those nurses and doctors
who daily provide women with a choice
who stand down a threat the size of oklahoma city
just to listen to a young woman's voice

here's a toast to all the folks on death row right now
awaiting the executioner's guillotine
who are shackled there with dread and can only escape into their heads
to find peace in the form of a dream

cuz take away our playstations
and we are a third world nation
under the thumb of some blue blood royal son
who stole the oval office and that phony election
i mean
it don't take a weatherman
to look around and see the weather
jeb said he'd deliver florida, folks
and boy did he ever

and we hold these truths to be self evident:
#1 george w. bush is not president
#2 america is not a true democracy
#3 the media is not fooling me
cuz i am a poem heeding hyper-distillation
i've got no room for a lie so verbose
i'm looking out over my whole human family
and i'm raising my glass in a toast

here's to our last drink of fossil fuels
let us vow to get off of this sauce
shoo away the swarms of commuter planes
and find that train ticket we lost
cuz once upon a time the line followed the river
and peeked into all the backyards
and the laundry was waving
the graffiti was teasing us
from brick walls and bridges
we were rolling over ridges
through valleys
under stars
i dream of touring like duke ellington
in my own railroad car
i dream of waiting on the tall blonde wooden benches
in a grand station aglow with grace
and then standing out on the platform
and feeling the air on my face

give back the night its distant whistle
give the darkness back its soul
give the big oil companies the finger finally
and relearn how to rock-n-roll
yes, the lessons are all around us and a change is waiting there
so it's time to pick through the rubble, clean the streets
and clear the air
get our government to pull its big dick out of the sand
of someone else's desert
put it back in its pants
and quit the hypocritical chants of
freedom forever

cuz when one lone phone rang
in two thousand and one
at ten after nine
on nine one one
which is the number we all called
when that lone phone rang right off the wall
right off our desk and down the long hall
down the long stairs
in a building so tall
that the whole world turned
just to watch it fall

and while we're at it
remember the first time around?
the bomb?
the ryder truck?
the parking garage?
the princess that didn't even feel the pea?
remember joking around in our apartment on avenue D?

can you imagine how many paper coffee cups would have to change their design
following a fantastical reversal of the new york skyline?!

it was a joke, of course
it was a joke
at the time
and that was just a few years ago
so let the record show
that the FBI was all over that case
that the plot was obvious and in everybody's face
and scoping that scene
religiously
the CIA
or is it KGB?
committing countless crimes against humanity
with this kind of eventuality
as its excuse
for abuse after expensive abuse
and it didn't have a clue
look, another window to see through
way up here
on the 104th floor
look
another key
another door
10% literal
90% metaphor

3000 some poems disguised as people
on an almost too perfect day
should be more than pawns
in some asshole's passion play
so now it's your job
and it's my job
to make it that way
to make sure they didn't die in vain
sshhhhhh....
baby listen

Just got home from a crazy weekend in the city of sin. Autumn's Bachlorette Party. Oh my goodness... it was some sweet craziness. and I have some photos of it all. these photos, Autumn will probably burn later (being the only sober one there, I had a lot of good blackmailable stuff). there are also some photos of me that the Bear will NEVER see. tee hee.

it's kind of ironic that I have never been to Vegas, seeing as it is very close to my house. but I don't drink, gamble, or smoke so there isn't much else.

all I will say is that the Bellagio hotel was exquisite.

what else did I do? heh heh heh... what happens in vegas....

вы читаете русского. то превосходно. однако, вы фактическ думаете я идете сломать высказывание vegas целого "случаетесь в пребываниях vegas в"? отсутствие дороги

Something weird is going on. I can’t quite put my finger on it. I want to chalk it up to the fact that I only had three and a half hours of sleep last night (fucking panic attacks).

Today I was carpooling with new Supervisor (name TBD) to the meetings out in plain lands. We were just chatting since we were stuck in a drive through star bucks line for 20 minutes.

Her: “So everyone in the office seems to be a Scorpio or a Taurus. Are you either?”
Me: “neither. Sorry to wreck the balance. So which are you?”
Her: “Take a wild guess…”

So I look at her for a second. I barely know this woman. I know her name. I know she’s boss lady to me. From sitting in her office I have deduced that she is a practicing Buddhist, is an MFT, has no kids, and believes in karma (I deduced this by looking observing her desk.)

Me: “I’m going to say that you are a Scorpio.”
Her: “Yep. Wanna guess when I was born?” (We were really bored in line, can you tell?)

I look at her long and hard. It almost got to the point where I was staring.

Me: “November 6hth”

I was right. She looked at me astonished. She wanted to know how I knew that. I have no idea, I just did.

Oh wait, it gets weirder…

We are all eating lunch and someone is trying to explain to her what a playback ring tone is. (I probably don’t have that name right but oh well.) She just isn’t’ getting it so I say, “Let’s say that your cell phone ringer is set to a downloaded song you chose. For example… how about ‘somewhere over the rainbow’ by Judy Garland. When your phone rings, you hear Judy singing. The person who is calling you? They ALSO hear Judy singing instead of the ringing tone that you usually hear.”

She got it. However, she was giving me a weird look. In fact, she looked a little freaked out. Uh-oh, that is never good.

Her: “Why did you choose that example?”
Me: “randomly popped into my head. Why?”
Her: “I love Judy Garland and that is my favorite song.”

Uhh…. Hmmm. oh fuck is all I can say. can't explain it at all.

Mercury must be in retrograde.

"Hi Joanna,

I just received the book today, and it looks wonderful! Thank you for all your hard work in this project, and giving voices to so many survivors.

I shared the book at our staff meeting this morning, and the response from my coworkers and fellow advocates was tremendous. In fact, my supervisor even commented to me what "an amazing gift you've given to other survivors and folks like me who care about survivors. Its very powerful!" I'm already being asked about purchasing the book for clients and other advocates.

I can't fully express my gratitude to you for what you have done for not only me but for so many other survivors. God bless you!

:) "

this was the email I got from one of the volunteers who's story is in my book. Kind of makes you feel good.

I woke up this morning from a nightmare in a cold sweat at 446 and didn’t really go back to sleep. What a way to start the first day at a new job, eh?

My first day at work was… reading a manual. A two and a half inch thick packed binder of crap that I need to learn and memorize. Fuuuuuuuuuck.

Other then that I was assigned some families already. Guess what? I was assigned the deaf families. Well, shit. Now I know why they wanted to hire me so badly.

Other then that, the commute to Hades is so short in comparison to metropolis (we are talking 15 minutes versus 2 hours) it 90 percent makes up for the shitty pay.

It’s only for a year. I keep reminding myself of that.

Tonight I was supposed to go to the other “job” but I didn’t realize that it was Tuesday. Shit, better go tomorrow.

Other then that Moe dyed my hair. We ran out of dye too so this might look ridiculous.

I’m going to bed.

Tomorrow I go back to work at the new job. My reign of terror as stay at home mommy is coming to an end. Am I going to miss Nut? Maybe. Probably. But tot ell you the truth, I am excited to be going back to work. Even if I am grossly underpaid.

The other day I was at Bear’s work and there was this young guy working. I was talking to Mary, behind the counter, and mentioning that I am going to go back to work. This young kid, who I call bubba, says, incredulously to me, “You work?”

I shot him a look. “Yes, I work,” I replied, highly affronted, “did you think I was some sort of trophy wife?”

“Well, uhh… yeah. Sort of.”

He thought I was a fucking trophy wife!!! Like one of the blond bimbos that hang out down there with their kid because they have nothing better to do then to harass their hubbies. I hang out there so Bear can see Nut and wear him out so Nut will take an afternoon nap so I can do some shit!

I glared at the guy and started rattling off my education and accomplishments. He was impressed. He now calls me Doc. Joseph every time I come in with Nut. Ok then. Whatever.

Trophy wife. Ugh. If I am ever a trophy wife, just shoot me. Technically, even though the Bear makes more money then me and owns the business (more on that at a later date) I have a waaaaay higher education. I know, I know… it’s not a competition. But I really like being able to say that.

Man, I have no self-esteem, let me have that much.

Last night I had a panic attack. Not too happy over that. I woke up sweating and nauseous at 1:56am. I thought I was going to vomit. The heart was racing. I couldn’t go back to sleep. It’s been a few months since my last panic attack and I haven’t had nightmares in a few months either. I hope this isn’t a fucking relapse. That’s not what I need when I am starting a new job. That’s not what I need with Nut.

Tomorrow Moe is taking the Nut for the whole day. She said I shouldn’t worry about Nut, everything will be fine. I know Nut will be fine. I’m not worried about him. I’m worried about Moe’s sanity. Of course, the joy of children and godparents is that the godparent can hand them off at the end of the day.

Oh my god. I am going back to work.

Six months ago…

Six months ago at this time I was having emergency surgery. It was interesting, from what I remember, which in all honesty isn’t much. There are only snapshots in my head. The smell of the operating room. The look of Bear all worried. Moe using my phone to call my siblings to tell them that I loved them. The guy holding me down while I was shaking. I was shaking so hard that I was rattling the board I was strapped too. The silence. then the crying. The laying on my back forever. Not being able to feel my whole body. Bear holding my hand and crying. Those are the flashes I remember.

There are the things that people have filled me in on. The one where I was praying in the operating room. the uncontrolabled bleeding. the possiblity of dying right there. The time in recovery getting really stoned on morphine. Talking to my father and Moe about the father’s new job. My new found fascination and child like wonder of seeing my toes and wiggling them (“my toes! Hello boys!”). The droning on of the machines monitoring my heartbeat and my blood pressure. The jabbering of the nurses.

The first night I don’t remember that well. I remember staring, fascinated as though on LSD, at the slow drip of the IV. I remember the sweating and heat as I spiked a fever and infection from surgery, moaning when they told me they had been giving me morphine, the invisible bugs crawling on me because of said drug, The nurse waking me from my sleep to have me walk the halls at 4am, the dizzy spell and collapsing after ten steps, Bear beginning to pray as he silently cried.

The roses in the room from Bear.

And then, the next morning…

I held my Peanut for the first time.

Six months later, I can’t imagine my life without him.

Happy half-year birthday my Little Nut.

A few weeks ago, the Bear, Nut and I were in California. (Ok, in reality we were in Nevada but who can resist the luring sight of Lake Tahoe. So we spent the night in Lake Tahoe.) We stayed up late watching South Park, which is what we were watching while I was in the early part of my labor with Nut. South Park is hilarious. They get away with some crazy shit. But I digress…

The show breaks to commercial and all of a sudden we are bombarded with images of “starred out” titties and asses. Oh yes, girls gone wild was being advertised to the horny young men of the US. I shook my head with disgust. Bear (who is still in his twenties I might add!) Rolled his eyes and said, “do they realize how stupid they are to do this?” (Points to the Bear, even though naked girls were making out in front of him on the TV).

Girl’s Gone Wild is disgusting. It is demeaning. It is ridiculous.

And I believe the Queen of Spain gets that here.

From one MILF to another. All hail the queen.

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