mr. zippy and i discovered a wee baby chipmunk in our garage this evening. poor lil' guy wasn't even trying to get away.

so mr. zippy put him in a towel as i called the Wildlife folks for instructions on how NOT to anymore ruin the short life of a small creature.

and it is so very wee, and frail, that he lays w/ his arms outstretched and panting just enough to let us know he's still alive. he was pretty non-responsive to the first two droppers full of fluid (a recipe given me by the Wildlife guy -- 1 tsp salt, 1 tbsp sugar, 1 qt water), and then SUDDENLY he flinched! He started quivering! His whiskers started acknowledging I was there! He showed SOME SIGNS OF LIFE! LIFE! LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIFE!!!!!!

but w/ the THIRD dropper of fluid he actually sat up and said HEEEEEEY! BAAA-BY!!! WASSSSSSSSSSSUP???

i tell you, it was a moment of pure joy for us all.

now he's in the Tupperware w/ holes significantly punched in its lid. he has a dishrag and a tiny lid of salt/sugar/water to tide him thru the night, and he's wrapped into himself, w/ his loooooong young tail tucked close over his entire body and head, sitting on half a heating pad. it makes me want to weep... but I've been listening to U2's "love is blindness" and now UB40's "Impossible love" and a whole lotta Robert Cray and I honestly wonder how HOW did I ever think I would be a horrific parent????

this wee one may not make it thru the night, but it won't be for (my) lack of trying.

DEAR GOD! If you buy only one cd this year, I'M BEGGING YOU, MAKE IT THIS ONE:

BETTYE LAVETTE 'I've Got My Own Hell To Raise

This woman covers Aimee Mann, Lucinda Williams, Joan Armatrading, Rosanne Cash, DOLLY PARTON, Fiona Apple AND MORE and O.W.N.S. each one of these songs in her own beautiful, heartbreaking way.

OH MY WORD this is a masterpiece that i would LOVE to burn for others, but it DESERVES to be bought in a store so she can get her percentage of the pie.

So, I began my 7 week history course today and it's going to be tough. I'm glad for that. that's what I need. i find if I'm given too much time on my own I'm worthless. I find trouble to get into. not particularly harmful, save my gpa, but harmful none-the-less.

then i saw a new shrink who prescirbed Wellbutrin XL after I told him I was opposed to SSRs, after my Zoloft experience (who can blame me). we'll see what happens w/ it. he was a nice guy, but I could tell he gets most of his work from referral peeps like me, sent there by our therapists who think we need a pharmaceutical.

now I'm listening to the new Bonnie Raitt and I HEART THAT WOMAN SO !

love it.

really. I do.

So. yesterday I spent in a lazy haze of funky conversation and food and wine w/ friend Minka. did a little shopping but otherwise did zero. nyet. nada. nilch. THEN I REMEMBERED the doctor's appointment I missed at 1:30p because, you know, that's when the conversation REALLY got gritty. As we gnoshed our way through my refrigerator and ate every left-over and cheese and meat and fruit morsel we could put our greedy hands on THEN I REMEMBERED i had to feed mr. zippy SOMETHING but there was nothing anymore.

whoops.

so mr. zippy had deeeeeelish pork fried rice from a nearby Chinese joint and all was well in the zippy hacienda. tonight he gets tenderloin if I can figure out how to cook it w/out ruining it.

and I slept not one wink last night. not. one. wink. my mind kept spinning over various bits of the day's conversation and the material I'm writing and and and. poor mr. zippy slept fitfully as well, w/ his shoulder grieving him even in slumber. this morning he was positively aslant, could not bend over to kiss me goodbye. but as any good couple do, we came together somewhere above my pillow that was a wee stretch for me and not so hurtful to him.



meet me at the wrecking ball,
I'll wear something pretty and white
and we'll go dancing tonight.

Watching my dogs kick each other's butts all over my yard, i feel like the Emperess watching over her Gladiators. ROMPROMPROMP BIFF! BAM! BOOM!

all action stops.

the valiant gladiators look at me for approval.

a slight wave of my hand.

ROMPPROMPROMP BIFF! BAM! BOOM!

all action stops.

the valiant gladiators look at me for approval.

a slight wave of my hand.

ROMPPROMPROMP BIFF! BAM! BOOM!

Thank you Lucinda Williams...


Broken Butterflies

You wear your anger well and stand
For all the world to see
A heavy cloak and one gloved hand
And no humility

You stand inside the garden
And feast on black cherries
And swallow the manna from heaven
And spit out the seeds

You spread your anger on sharp-edged knives
Cut my skin and make it bleed
Like pilate in his self righteousness
You're a traitor and a thief

Choking on your unplanned words
Coughing up your lies
Tumbling from your mouth a flurry
Of broken butterflies

But the blood that flows I cannot hide
That blood that covers me
Nourishes the butterflies
And they are healed and are set free

I wish you had what Ruth possessed
But then I don't expect that of you
Grace and honor and faithfulness
And the love that you refuse

Will you ever learn to just forgive
Will you open your beautiful eyes
And bleed the way Christ did
And fix the broken butterflies

''That's all you got. You got love and you got death.
Death will find you . . . it's up to you to find love.
That's where most people fall down at. Death got room
for everybody. Love pick and choose."

- August Wilson

yesterday was my birthday -- PREEN! made it to 40 yrs and counting WOO HOO!

this is significant, for you see, some twenty years ago I was sent home from a hospital and told to live a quiet life and expect to die by 30.

I did not do that, by any means.

ahem.

and here I am TRA-LA!

So, my closest friends surprised me with a gift certificate to a local day spa (ok, not such a ginormous surprise but it was LOVELY they actually followed up on my pregnant hint - THANKS GUYS!) and friend Minka joined me for a massage and a steam and fun conversation. Minka even convinced her rubber to sing happy birthday to the both of us (as her birthday is this Sunday). That was fun to listen to. Poor woman was so self-conscious, but she did very well for someone who is terrified of singing in front of an opera singer. "Just make a JOYFUL NOISE!" Minka encouraged her. And that, she did.

then we went to lunch at R. Thomas somewhere in midtown or maybe Buckhead (I'm notorious for getting lost in phone booths -- I'm so glad they stopped making them). a pretty good fish taco (made w/ salmon and fresh veggies - YUM!) w/ a yellow canary seranading us and pigeons on the way out the door. although it only just now occurred to me the pigeons might have been part of the evening's menu. hmmm. I've had curried pigeon. it was pretty good, too.

then we hit the liquor store for sangria-making ingredients, came home, forgot a couple of things so went to the market, came home AGAIN and made a splendid pitcher of white sangria that we dove into w/ glee. mr. zippy came home and joined us w/ the imbibing. sort of. he'd had dental work earlier in the day and was pretty miserable. I think he took the sangria as an antidote. sure enough, this morning he told me it went straight to his head and he was in bed snoring by 9pm.

today I've been uploading discs to my iTunes and LOVING rediscovering all the music I've had for eons but haven't listened to in an age. currently that is Roy Orbison's "Mystery Girl" cd. not a phenomenal disc, but I heart that song.

and the dogs continue to play SMACKDOWN outside as I go out of my way to avoid homework here inside.

I need to get out more.

Wow, so Friday night turned out to be boatloads of fun, and not in a Titanic sort of way. More like a QM2 sort of way.

First, Minka singing. I met new friend Karen Abbott at the gallery just before and when we went in just as Minka opened her lungs to the heavens, Karen turned to me, eyes wide, and looked at her bare arm prickling up with goose bumps. Somehow we managed to sit throughout the performance and bond w/ some of Minka's old friends. But apparently we unnerved Minka by actually sitting and listening to her, so around her third set she asked us all to continue talking, which was fine, until one friend admitted to being a Sarah Lawrence grad, and her fiance admitted to being a Columbia grad and the conversation went to naming some famous grads of said uni's. No one knew a Sarah Lawrence grad (at least not w/in my ear shot) and although everyone agreed there were puh-lenty of famous Columbia grads, few names were coming to mind.

"Rosanne Rosanadana," said me. and the evening's laughter as off to a good start w/ mascara running down my cheeks from laughing so hard as I recounted the Gilda Radner skit from SNL. she was so frelling brlliant.

THEN YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENED?

having swooned to Minka's gorgeous soprano voice, the crowd waltzed across the street to a bar where we sat for 'tini's and conversation. So, we've already introduced Minka's old friends, and my new friend. And then there was this guy we picked up at the gallery where Minka performed. Now, we had chit chatted at the gallery very briefly (I commended him for actually buying some art while at the gallery) and somehow he'd made it across the street with us. As we sat down at our table I asked him,

"So, do you know anyone at this table?"

And he did not, other than the brief introduction w/ Minka at the gallery and the few words crossing the street.

"Well, Alrighty then!" How very Harold Pinter!

A very nice addition to our coat of many colors. But I was pretty aghast when he recommended a "cheesesteak" martini.

WHAT THE HELL IS THAT???? and WHY OH WHY WOULD ANYONE EVER WANT TO DRINK IT???

him: cheese CAKE martini.

me: oh. heh heh.

AND THEN YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENED???

A young woman, complete and total stranger to all of us, walked over and stood between him and me and asked the table

"So, what's the story about all of you?"

how very bold!

I, of course, had to play hard to get, but Minka dove right in and introduced all of us in a manner of speaking and inquired about the young woman who was thusly bowled over that we would be such a diverse group of peeps sitting at the same table, obviously having a good time. She did admit to talking about us w/ the bar tender, certain we all worked together because there was no way we could all be friends.

Don't you love pleasantly surprising people?

That young woman became a total fan of ours. I think we'll be seeing her again at the next function we have at that gallery, certainly at the next Minka performance.

AND THEN YOU KNOW WHAT HAPENED???

Newboy Reg convinced Minka and me to go out for another night cap. We did our best to talk everyone else into having an after-after party with us but no one wanted to ride that ride. they all thought we were crazy.

Turns out, they were right.

We went to this terrific martini bar which is undoubtedly the most smoke-filled bar I've been to, but also where a TERRIFIC, throaty singer was owning every song she put her microphone and cigarette to. I was pulled away by an older guy who really, seriously wanted to be my friend (w/ his hand on my ass), but he had such a soft head of hair, I found it easy to rest my head upon it.

him: you don't need to be leaning against that wall. you need to be leanin' against me!

now who could resist THAT?

but when his "I just wanna be your lov-ah-lov-ah-lov-ah-boy" routine got redundant, I made the face (all you girls know the one) and Minka and Reg bailed me out. WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!

then we sat our carcasses on a back room couch (velvet, and well worn, thank you very much) and made each other giggle through another hour or so before they really did throw us out at 3am. THREE A.M. holy frelling cow! I haven't been out that late having a good time since going to the Bowen wedding in NYC --



Ain't we purdy??

the next day, which wasn't far away as I landed safely back home at precisely 4:04 am, mr. zippy awoke me at 8:30 to lovin' touchin' squeezin' surprising sex.

there are three kinds of sex:

HOT SEX -- that's any and all on the sprectrum of hot. hot is hot. even if it's hotter than hot, smokin' hot, and hottest of them all kinda hot. right?

then there's

NORMAL SEX -- servicable, but nothing special. gets the job done, one way or another. comes in handy when you're both tired but horny.

and then there's

SURPRISING SEX -- the kind of sex that feels so good you're in absolutely no hurry to cum. that's damn good sex. no one's in a hurry, or on an agenda, you're just makin' out with the one you love and it's nobody's bidness but your own.

Turns out, Surprising Sex is instigated by staying out all night and not calling your beloved because it's gotten so late you don't want to wake him, so when he gets up to pee at 3am and you still aren't home, he's worried. and by the time you do get home, he's not quite asleep but awake just enough to feel your presence so that when he DOES wake up, he's so happy you aren't in a hospital or in a coma or in a coffin and he's such an amazing person his reaction is not to yell, not to pout, but to take you in his arms and make you feel like you're brand new all over again.

that's a beautiful thing.