Dance baby dance!

I love to dance. Now by all accounts I'm not really...good. I mean I'm a legend in my own mind but the reality of it is frightening. For those of you who have video of me dancing, I'm sorry. although it might have given you hours of amusement, so in that case you're welcome!
On the other hand, I've been told that I'm a great dancer. No those individuals weren't shitfaced...ok maybe slightly drunk, but whatever! They said I was good so I'm assuming they meant it. In a nice way. not a "you really suck but I'm humoring you" way.
I love dancing at home by myself. Which is were I do it most often. there isn't much call at work for dancing. "Hey jen can you leave your cube and come over here? We've got some dance music going and we need you..." I've always loved dancing. and I think I have a pretty good feel for rhythm and movement. I don't know specific steps or anything, I just feel the music. (god that sounds new agey and pukey) But it's true. Good dance music makes you want to dance and have sex. Or just have sex. Either way, it should be sexy and make you want to move.
Friends of mine in college had this terrible apartment. I mean we called it "The Crackhouse". It really was terrible. However, the one redeeming quality about it in my opinion was the kitchen. It was huge as apartments go. Since 4 guys lived there, there was nothing in it. No table, no chairs, just a large open floor. One of them was a musician, so the best music was always playing. (sorry Jimmy, I love you but Steely Dan just doesn't qualify as "good" on any level) I danced so much in that kitchen with a bottle of beer in hand. I loved it. I never felt like it mattered who was watching or what others thought of me. I was usually alone and the guys moved around me. They never told me to stop or get out (which if they had I probably would have understood). One of the other roommates was from Jamaica. Besides being an amazing person, with a rich imagination, he typically had some pot nearby which was a nice break to all the dancing. Those were some good days. I loved being in that house. It was free, and fun and the parties we had were some good times.
There have been many concerts I went to where at the end of the night, my friend Krista and I got a nod or two from the beer drinkin' motorcycle guys...One time, we drove to upstate NY to see The Screamin' Cheetah Wheelies..god knows if they are even still together..but it was great southern blues rock and we loved them (still do) and we danced, and danced all night. (side note, before the show started, we had to suffer through a lot of Aerosmith. We wanted to shoot ourselves.) At the very end of the night, the band had cleared the stage, the house lights were coming up, and Krista was being hit on by some guy at the bar, and I was alone on the floor. Creedence Clearwater came on- "Suzy Q" I love that song. I danced the whole song, in that room, by myself and I didn't give a rats ass who saw me. It felt so good to just enjoy myself without a single care in the world. Much like a child who discovers they have hands. Needless to say the guy at the bar turned out to be a douchebag(as they often are at 2am) and we left. But we will never forget it.
I've danced in my mom's kitchen many times. Mom and I have attempted some moves - which usually I fail at. but by that point it doesn't matter. we're laughing to hard. We get silly.
Usually its at weddings that I get to bust out the dance chops. These days everyone I know is already married. So, its me in my living room dancing to Justin Timberlake or Jay-Z or The Black Crowes. Either way, its an outlet for me to feel sexy and alive and uncluttered.
I need to do it more. I could use a little more sexy in my day to day. :)

One good weekend

Once again I'm going to start this off talking about food. Really its either food or sex with me there isn't much of an in between..

I made a kick ass dinner tonight. One of my oldest friends came by to visit. We never really do much...some of it depends on what we each have for money, but typically our visit involves tea, dinner or lunch depending and dessert. We talk, and talk and catch up. So the menu was like this - tea and cheries to munch on. a trip to Whole Foods, then back home. I had Salmon on hand, so we put that on the George Foreman, string beans and red potatoes steamed in the micro. Then dessert. Yummy tiramisu...So it was a good visit. She's going to be 40 in March. Which is unreal to me because I've known her since I was 21 I think? I'm 36 NOW. It's been a long time. There is that time warp thing again. You blink and you're older even though in spirit you still feel 18.

It was a weekend of seeing good friends - one of my other friends, that I've known since high school came by Saturday night. We hung out and caught up on life. Things are getting better for her, I'm proud of her in many ways. She's much stronger than she ever gives herself credit for. Life can deal you some harsh blows but she's weathered it pretty well.

All in all a great weekend of seeing the ones that I love.

I also had a great day with miss abby. I made a conscious decision to stay home and not go anywhere. Very little tv today. It was all about the toys. We played bingo, colored some pictures, good game of hide and seek, and just ran around. It was fun. She has such an active imagination so I got to watch her really play today. Its nice to take it slow. Not rush around and try to come up with exciting things for them to do. Sometimes the most fun is staying still. Rolling on the floor and laughing. Have I mentioned that her hugs are the best? She just smiles at me and with her huge brown eyes says sooo much. She is amazing. I know all parents feel that way about their kids, but I just can't help but say it.

This is coming from someone who never thought she wanted kids. at all. It's funny my old friend and I were talking about this today. She has always professed to never want children and hates when people chide her for that decision. I've always been impressed by her honesty. It's hard to not succumb to what society deems as "normal". She is actually thinking more of children than most people realize. It is easy to just have a kid, its another to BE a parent. You can't take the job lightly. It is actually way better to admit that you'd be a bad parent and not have kids than to bring a child into this world with no thought whatsoever. I thought for a long time that I'd never have kids because it is a lifetime commitment. That frightened the hell out of me. The idea of being responsible for this person for the rest.of.my.life....that was daunting. I entered into the baby making process with a lot of thought. I'm also ok with ONE child. Many people ask me, "Are you having any more?" I'm always like, "no. I'm good". They always seem disappointed when I say that. WHY? It's my right to make that choice I also think it's called being responsible. I know what I can handle and I know what I can't. While I love being a parent, and wouldn't trade this life for anything, I also know that the thought of bearing another child and going through diapers again makes me exhausted in ways I can't explain. Now, to date a man who has children already, and love them as my own, that's a concept I can deal with - But to bear more children...this kitchen is closed.

well, I'm outta thoughts at the moment. Its time to go read. I'm currently reading "Foxfire:confessions of a girl gang" by Joyce Carol Oates. I've read it before, but it was time to read it again. Fantastic piece of fiction of you're at all interested.

Random thoughts

So I just stuffed myself with chicken and rice. This is what I made: chicken tenders coated in bisquick mix,cheese,salt(oven baked) and then I whipped up a awesome dipping sauce. Mayo, brown mustard, and Harry and Davids honey mustard sesame sauce. It rocked. Sometimes the simplest things are truly the best. Now I'm way full and wish I didn't have jeans on....Would be awkward to blog in no pants. ANYHOO....

I've got a few things on my mind. Lets dump them all out shall we? I'm debating on going back on "happy pills" as I call them. Mainly I'm way to weepy these days and not sleeping well, and just not quite myself. I figured I could live without them, but apparently I can't. Genetics are a pretty strong thing I hear...There are only so many crying jags you can have at work before everyone thinks you're crazy. Nothing makes the natives more nervous than a crying woman. Plus the financial stress has pushed me to frequent bouts of flat out inactivity. I just can't live this way. I like being motivated and I find myself slipping into the abyss of staring at my fingernail for 10 minutes more and more. Which on occasion is fine, but not on a regular basis.

I miss a lot of things. I miss being able to sleep next to someone and hear them breathing. I miss looking forward to going home cause the person you love best is there for you. One of my friends at work asked me if I could, would I go back. Back to a time when things were really "good". I told her no. How can one go back? Life changes you and warps your sense of what was. If I went back today, it would be as me now. You don't get the choice to go back the same way you came in. But along that line, I do miss a lot of the things that were "good". Rides to the beach on the weekends, naps. God, naps together on a Sunday afternoon were great. Its funny how those things disappear. How does that happen? How is it that one day you turn around and suddenly you aren't looking at yourself anymore and the person looking back at you is not who you think it is? I know logically it takes time but it seems overnight.
One other thing I miss is hugs. I love hugs. Hugs make everything better. I actually feel sorry for people who can't stand "touching" or people in their personal space. A hug can ease every tense muscle you have and make you want to drift off to sleep. Doesn't matter how much money you have, you can't put a price on a hug. It is indescribable how great it makes one feel. There are different types of hugs too. The bear hug, the hug where two people sway side to side (my sis and I do this one :) the cuddle hug, the pat on the back hug...a million variations of something so simple and yet soooo satisfying. Hugs express love and kindness, caring and concern. I love hugging my daughter. She hugs me tight and tells me she loves me and it is the best thing in the whole world. See, if I went back in time, I wouldn't have that. I wouldn't have a beautiful child who loves me implicitly no matter how nutty I am. She squeezes my neck and tells me I'm "the best mommy ever." It melts away the entire world. That is so acute and immediate. So priceless. I miss living with a man who will also extend that kindness my way. I crave emotional and physical attention much like a junkie needs his fix. I can stand on my own two feet just fine, but I need the occasional lift to keep me going. Hugs do that. So, I wouldn't go back. It would never be the same. It would hurt to much also to go back and already know the outcome. Plus, I know what I need now, and I don't think going backwards would push me forwards. But I wouldn't mind going back for a visit for a hug or two.

Mother and Child

This is a favorite of mine. The image of that day is still vivid in my mind. Everyone I know who is a mom can relate to this type of day. I wrote this well before I had kids. Go figure.


Mother and Child

I spent a day on Block Island.
Summer people everywhere-
tanned parent with screaming kids,
hippie guys with knotted hair and girls
in string bikinis.
For a day, it was paradise.
There is a ferry that takes people to this place,
this land of sand and drinks.
On my way off this island,
as the sun was reposing,
I sat on the ferry thinking.
My body ached from the sun and my eyes were
tired from staring.
I glanced to my side and there,
in the shade of the sun's summer glow,
was a mother and her sun burnt son.
The mother was awake; the child was fast asleep
in her arms.
His day had ended at 11am,
but he had walked on,
annoyed,
yet happy to be with his mom.
His cheeks looked puffy,
his eyelashes looked white.
As I watched them,
I could see united breathing.
In...out....in...out.
A mother and child are a thing of beauty
in the middle of July.

Crepes

Last night and tonight I had the same dinner and it made me so happy. Food is such an amazing thing. In many instances it's way more than taste. It's mood, moment, memory. Crepes are something I've eaten since childhood. Sitting in my grandmothers kitchen, while she stood at the stove and made me one after another. If you've never eaten one, it's amazing. My grandmother was perfect at making them paper thin, and as she flipped them onto my plate I had eaten it in my mind before I even slathered it in butter, rolled it up with my fork, and devoured it.
I remember my sister and I standing in her kitchen, going through her recipes and watching her make Crepes so we could learn from the master. Honestly it's one of my favorite memories. Learning how hot the pan should be, the flip of the wrist, the amount of batter to put in the pan, all little details that you just can't gain from a book. Standing at the stove with your grandmother makes all the difference.
Eating them tonight, I think I did pretty well. Not exactly like her, but pretty damn close. I think she'd be proud.

A little more poetry

yet again, another one with no date! This was done back in College..quite literal. I was on campus, it was a beautiful day and I looked up to the main street, and saw the site below go riding by. I wondered where he was headed. What was he doing that was important enough that even crutches wouldn't get in his way?


Motorcycle Man with a Crutch

Rumblings in the afternoon led me to look at a
street level sight -
his hand was balanced on a thigh dirty from oil
changes and beer chugging contests; things done to
fill a void.
One crutch reaching out the back and swaying
ever so slightly in the wind.
Aqua blue is the color of choice, clashing with
dark ideas and leather tired skin.
No injury can stay this man; mid November and
still riding tar worn roads to nowhere.
There is no back seat rider clutching at his waist
on this breezy November day.
I put myself as that back seat rider without a
destination; without a reason to sit still-grasping
onto a chest that likes to feel nails digging through fabric,
to flesh.
Pondering the rumblings of the afternoon, I think of
what it would be like to share a drink or two with a man
steeped in leather.
It would be a meeting of few words and honest looks; well
worth the dirt in my hair and the sweat on my back.

Ok, so once again I have not dated a poem. I think this one was done around June/July of 2008 but then one can't be sure. Like I stated in a previous post, sometimes you have to go backwards to go forwards. In a lot of ways, I'm still searching for that way home. Searching for that place of comfort where you walk in the door and feel relaxed and rejuvenated. I had it once. That feeling is tied to the place and to the people that surround you.


A Way Home

I feel like I'm chasing fireflies.
Running in circles
looking everywhere for the right solution.
I suppose I should seek from within
what is not in my eyesight.
It is painful,
and all swallowing this void in my heart.
I'm yearning for soft touches,
long conversations about nothing,
and naked days in bed.
Its almost like walking onto the flats when
the corn is high,
and the rows are endless.
I stand there,
deep in the soil,
watching the corn meet the skyline,
swaying with the wind tide,
and I know there is a way home.
I know it like I know my own soul.
But there are no signs.
No markers.
Not even a smirking scarecrow.
I can barely lift my feet to pick a way,
a route,
a direction.
I'd like to feel like a queen again.
I deserve to know my way home,
and get there without even
knowing the roads,
the fields,
or the hills.