Bittersweet Me

The ultimate Bittersweet me tree: A Dogwood

One of the many things I love about my new (to me) car is that its radio is smarter than the one in my old one -- it knows what song is playing and who is singing it. Gone are the days of having to hope the DJ would reveal this information.

I knew, of course, the artist of this song, but never the title:

I move across, innocence lost
All flashing pulsar
I move across the earth in my new pattern shirt
I pass satellites
"You're so bitter, " your complaint
I can't give you anything
I don't know who you're living for
I don't who you are anymore
I'd sooner chew my leg off
Than be trapped in this
How easy you think of all of this as bittersweet me

I couldn't taste it
I'm tired and naked
I don't know what I'm hungry for
I don't know what I want anymore

I feel you Michael. It sometimes feels like I don't know what I want anymore either. Over the past year, year and a half, I've been through some major changes, and one of the biggest shifts is my ability to be honest with myself about what's going on. What's been going on, in my relationship, hasn't felt right for a while, but I haven't known what to do about it.

Under these circumstances, I had a tendency to do what I have always done: try to control it into working. Here's another big change in me over this period of time: I FINALLY get it that that doesn't work. It was hard to discern this for a while in part because my man is so willing to do what I ask, the problem is, the kind of changes I see as needed are not the kind that I can initiate or guide.

So I have to let go. Let go of the certainty we were working with that when my daughter graduates from high school, we'll move away from Madison together and live our lives together. That feels anything but certain these days. I don't know what will happen with us.

And thus, these learnings of which I speak, have led to a bittersweet me:

I move across, candy floss
I move like a tank
I move across the room with a heart full of gloom
I'm stronger than you think
Oh, my peer, your veneer
Is wearing thin and cracking
The surface informs the underneath
The underneath is lacking
I'd sooner chew my leg off
Than be trapped in this
How easy you think of all of this as bittersweet me

I couldn't taste it
I'm tired and naked
I don't know what I'm hungry for
I don't know what I want anymore

You move across, innocence lost
All static and desire
You're blue in the face from navel gaze
You set yourself on fire
You strip down and lay yourself out
I know you can't fake it
But are you tired and naked?
Oh, are you tired and naked?
I'd sooner chew my leg off
Than be trapped in this
How easy you think of all of this as bittersweet me

I couldn't taste it
I'm tired and naked
I don't know what I'm hungry for
I don't know what I want anymore
I couldn't taste it

I'm tired and naked
I don't know what I'm hungry for
I don't know what I want anymore
I couldn't taste it

I'm tired and naked
I don't know what I'm hungry for
I don't know what I want anymore

A note about the Dogwood -- we had one in our front yard growing up. Seeing them definitely makes for a bittersweet me...

Disturbance at the Heron House

Oh man, do I ever love skiing with my kids!

This morning after practice I made the trek up north to a ski area I used to frequent when I was in high school.

My parents, who had had my kids the last couple of days, met me there so that the kids and I could be reunited and spend the day skiing.

On the way up, I started listening to the book Crossing to Safety by Wallace Stegner. It's one of my friend's favorite books, and I always try to pay attention when I hear someone I love talk about their favorite book.

In the part I listened to this morning, there was a line about chaos being the way of nature and order being a dream of man. And it occurred to me that this is exactly what my yoga teacher and Reiki practitioner was trying to tell me yesterday. It's not about comfort.

Which is perfect preparation for a day of skiing, which is also not about comfort, and is quite possibly one of the most liberating things a human can do.

My happy ski bunnies, getting close to dusk

On the drive home, I heard this classic from one of REM's lesser known albums, which, as I recall, I had on cassette as a youngster:

They're going wild, the call came in
At early morning predawn then
The followers of chaos, out of control

They're numbering the monkeys
The monkeys and the monkeys
The followers of chaos, out of control

The call came in to party central
A meeting of the green and simple
Trying to tell us something we don't know

They're meeting at the monument
The call came in, the monument
To liberty and honor under the honor roll

They've gathered up the cages
The cages and courageous
The followers of chaos, out of control

I'm gonna try to dream of order a little bit less, and get a little more comfortable with the chaos...

Stand

Heard this classic number on the way home from the airport:

Stand in the place where you live
Now face north
Think about direction
Wonder why you haven't before

Now stand in the place where you work
Now face west
Think about the place where you live
Wonder why you haven't before

If you are confused, check with the sun
Carry a compass to help you along
Your feet are going to be on the ground
Your head is there to move you around

So stand in the place where you live
Now face north
Think about direction
Wonder why you haven't before

Now stand in the place where you work
Now face west
Think about the place where you live
Wonder why you haven't before

Your feet are going to be on the ground
Your head is there to move you around
If wishes were trees, the trees would be falling
Listen to reason, season is calling

Stand in the place where you live
Now face north
Think about direction
Wonder why you haven't before

Now stand in the place where you work
Now face west
Think about the place where you live
Wonder why you haven't before

If wishes were trees, the trees would be falling
Listen to reason, reason is calling
Your feet are going to be on the ground
Your head is there to move you around

I can't think of a more apropos song for my homecoming.

No doubt about it, California is calling my name. It has been for a long time, but its beckoning is louder now. More certain.

Still, Madison is where my kids live, so it is where I will Stand, both feet firmly planted, until they are launched...

Shiny Happy People

The birthday girl and her lovely daughters

What a difference a day makes, and it doesn't hurt at all when that day is a day off from school and work.

Ahhhh, the luxury of sleeping in myself -- I didn't see the time on the clock until 7:45am and after that I stayed in bed and read The New Yorker -- and not having to wake me kids up and get them out the door to school. I think we all really needed a day off.

We had some excitement, too, starting last night when we had our favorite newly 36-year-old Mom over for a belated birthday dinner. My daughter loves nothing more than to bake and decorate cakes, so she was all over helping me prepare for the celebration.

It's so much fun to see my kids with my friend's baby. They love to make her smile and laugh, and I love seeing them in that capacity. I always thought I'd have another baby but now it looks more likely that I won't, which just makes our time with my friend's baby that much more special.

My shiny happy kids and their muse (who's often in motion!)

Contemplating the shift in mood today, this REM song came to mind:

Shiny happy people laughing

Meet me in the crowd, people, people
Throw your love around, love me, love me
Take it into town, happy, happy
Put it in the ground where the flowers grow
Gold and silver shine

Shiny happy people holding hands
Shiny happy people holding hands
Shiny happy people laughing

Everyone around, love them, love them
Put it in your hands, take it, take it
There's no time to cry, happy, happy
Put it in your heart where tomorrow shines
Gold and silver shine

Shiny happy people holding hands
Shiny happy people holding hands
Shiny happy people laughing

Whoa, here we go

The other excitement we had came later today -- this time in the form of smoke filling part of the house. It was bizarre because it was mostly coming out of the fireplace we don't use. We eventually figured out that the ashes from the fireplace we used last night and the ashes of the other fireplace go to the same spot. My daughter had raked what must've been still-smoldering coals down the little chute, and it turned out that all kinds of things were in the soot-collection area, including newspapers.

Somewhat miraculously, my kids, who'd had their moments of not getting along on their day off, totally bonded over shoveling all of the soot out and dumping it outside on the compost pile, turning it into a fun evening. We ate dinner on the floor of my bedroom because it was both smoky and freezing cold in the dining room's half of the house, and I gave thanks, once again, for a joyful, peaceful evening with my kids.

It's the End of the World as We Know It

When I saw the forecast for today, I made the decision to go for my long run early. I'm back up to 8 miles, and while that means I won't be able to run the full marathon I was hoping to run on August 31, it looks like I will get to do another half.

Anyway, I set my alarm for 6am, got up, had some tea and an energy bar and headed out the door while my kids were still asleep. My route took me out to Picnic Point and back, and was it ever gorgeous out there this morning!

Since I had my kids this weekend, I didn't arrange any running buddies to accompany me, with the exception of Slacker Alterntive workout, which, while not a person, is actually a pretty damn good running buddy.

During the last mile, I was just starting up a hill when Michael's voice fired up:

That's great, it starts with an earthquake

Birds and snakes, an aeroplane, and Lenny Bruce is not afraid

Eye of a hurricane, listen to yourself churn

World serves its own needs, don't misserve your own needs

Feed it up a knock, speed, grunt, no, strength

The ladder starts to clatter with a fear of height, down, height

Wire in a fire, represent the seven games

And a government for hire and a combat site

Left her, wasn't coming in a hurry with the Furies breathing down your neck...

Those of us who grew up with REM will agree that this was not their finest hour, but tackling that hill, as well as the end of my world as I know it feeling that I have much of the time in the wake of this break-up, this was exactly what I needed to hear this morning:

It's the end of the world as we know it

It's the end of the world as we know it

It's the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine

Of course, I don't feel fine a lot of the time, but I feel better today than I have in a while, and I'll take it.

Postscript: Looking up this video, I remembered being in the third row of an REM concert as a youngster and being completely hot for Michael Stipe. I guess my last lover wasn't the first bald dude for which I had it bad...

The One I Love

My babes are off on an international adventure with their Dad, and today in the car I heard this REM classic and was reminded of the time recently when it came on the radio with my kids in the car:

This one goes out to the one I love

"The ones I love are Mom and Dad," said a little voice from the backseat. My heart melted. And it's a good thing us mothers have those moments, because they keep us going during rougher moments, such as the time recently when my daughter informed me I was no longer allowed to call her Sweetie.

"Awwww. Can't I still call you that at home?" I pleaded.

"No, because then you'll still be in the habit and you'll slip up and call me that in public."

Dang. I guess I knew they were going to grow up, it just isn't always easy. On the other hand, many things have gotten easier since they've gotten older -- eating out, long car rides -- and sometimes their awareness really rescues me even during the toughest moments. A couple of weekends ago, I was feeling really frustrated with them and not great about my ability as a parent to get us back on track.

In the midst of the mayhem, I sat down on the couch with a thud and exclaimed: "I'm no good at this."

Both of my kids came rushing over, looks of concern on their faces, and said, in unison: "Yes you are, Mom. You're not the problem."

Priceless.

This one goes out to the (little) one(s) I love, wherever they are laying their heads tonight...

Everybody Hurts

This afternoon I had a long talk with my man, mostly about loss. I don't think there's any two ways about it: divorce is one big motherfucking loss. I cried talking to him about both his loss and mine, and I also had a beautiful moment in which I realized that the man I'm in love with now has such a hugely open heart he's never going to close it to me, not even if we decide to split up someday.

Later in the evening I talked to a friend who is still very much in the raw split-up stage, and whose wife I think it is fair to say has definitely closed her heart to him. I totally felt his pain, and the song I'd heard the day before in the car came back to me as I listened to him:

When the day is long and the night, the night is yours alone,

When you're sure you've had enough of this life, well hang on

Don't let yourself go, 'cause everybody cries and everybody hurts sometimes

Sometimes everything is wrong. Now it's time to sing along

When your day is night alone, (hold on, hold on)

If you feel like letting go, (hold on)

When you think you've had too much of this life, well hang on

'Cause everybody hurts. Take comfort in your friends

Everybody hurts. Don't throw your hand. Oh, no. Don't throw your hand

If you feel like you're alone, no, no, no, you are not alone

If you're on your own in this life, the days and nights are long,

When you think you've had too much of this life to hang on

Well, everybody hurts sometimes,

Everybody cries. And everybody hurts sometimes

And everybody hurts sometimes. So, hold on, hold on

Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on

Everybody hurts. You are not alone...