Joe Lantana has seen better days.

Once upon a time Joe was inside and he was happy. He had lots of green leaves and was growing so big that Dan would knock into the branches every time he walked by him. (Often this would prompt me to yell, "Careful! You hit Joe!" and Dan said he felt like he was the victor in a long-fought fight when Joe was finally moved outside.)

Joe is not doing so well now. (Dan is fine.) After enduring heavy wind and rain, I had to take my pruning shears out (holla atcha Felco pruners) and trim many of his newest, most brittle (and now broken) shoots. The next day, after a full day of sun, more branches were lost due to Joe's drying out.

I knew it was going to be an adjustment but I never thought it would be this hard. I look out the window every day at him and just hope that I made the right decision and didn't push him out of the house before he was ready. I have a healthy Geranium who I'm supposed to put out there next and I'm just not sure I'm ready after this experience.

Umm, did I just give a shoutout to my pruners?

There's hope yet...

Stress ball this!

My brain is frozen. This happens.

Dan and I liken it to what happens to a computer when too many programs are running. I lock up. Nothing works. Not even restarting.

Yesterday I had a conversation with my sister in which she asked me if I was interested in attending my niece's gymnastics recital. The day before I had spoken the words, "I wish I could see Molly's gymnastics recital," but when faced with the question, I froze, leaving my sister to think that I really did not want to go as evidenced by my silence. I had to explain to her that in that 30 second pause, my brain spat out 20 different thoughts causing a traffic jam of sorts which had nothing to do with the one question she had asked. I don't think she believed me but I ended up attending the recital anyway.

That is how I feel today. I have too much to do and so, I am doing nothing. I do bits of things. Pieces of others. But no task to fruition. No job to completeness. It is beyond frustrating.

I had hoped to write something on this blog today that had more to do with specific events and thoughts---ie., real writing---but I just cannot get out of my own way in order to stick to one thought long enough to expand upon it.

I am a head of misplaced pieces from different puzzles. Pieces from puzzles of conflict or questions---some practical, some long-term, some emotional, some cerebral---all hoping to find a place of sense and order.

I'm trying to sort it all out, to map it as items on a to-do list but it can't take that form yet. That would at least be productive, but that would also be asking too much.

I think I have to buy a new car. I need a new catalytic converter (so the conversion of my catalytic continues as normal, I assume) and since the job was estimated to cost around $2000 for my 1999 Subaru Outback (and 25 dealerships in NH closed recently) it only makes sense to be in the car market. Except, I don't want to buy a new car. We're still paying for Dan's car (mine, for all its headaches is, at least, completely mine) and I don't want to have two car payments.

Plus, I'm pretty sure Suze Orman would reject us on the "Can you afford it?" segment of her show.

I've been avoiding Suze for a while now---ever since we decided to go to London for four weeks this summer. This trip is less than a month away and other than buying the plane tickets and securing a place to stay, I have done no planning. I should probably do that.

But we're still not where we want to be in our saving-for-London piggy bank and this stresses me out. We should be able to get there before we go, but we might not. And shouldn't I be using this savings for a down payment for a car anyway? Or do I pay off a credit card first? Or do I just let it all go for the next two months and just enjoy the London trip because who the hell gets to go London for four weeks and why can't I just enjoy the excitement of it rather than getting all bogged down by worry?

I'm hungry.

I was supposed to make chili for a week of cheap eating and I didn't do it. I also haven't exercised yet or showered and I have to leave in two hours to get Molly off the bus.

I'm going to have a new niece any day now. My sister, Katie, is due on June 23 and I'm supposed to try to hop a quick plane to Memphis to be there for the delivery or at least shortly thereafter. It's hard to plan a trip around a baby's arrival. (Babies are very inconsiderate that way.) Plus, how can I afford a trip to Memphis when we haven't met our goal for London and my catalytic converter has shit the bed and I didn't even make the chili. How?

I wonder what I'll have for lunch. Leftover tofu stir-fry?

Molly finishes first grade this week. Then I watch her at least a few full days a week until we leave. Did I mention I'm supposed to be planning a last-minute trip to Memphis? I also have a party on Saturday to attend and then a there-and-back trip to RI on Sunday to celebrate Father's day. (We should drive Dan's car, I think.) I have Molly four days next week and then we have a wedding down in Connecticut over the weekend. Are we staying in Connecticut overnight? Memphis? Chili? Tofu?

Who will water my plants while I'm gone? I recently moved a potted plant outside (a Lantana which Dan refers to as "Joe Lantana") and he doesn't seem to be fairing well in the wind and rain. Poor Joe.

I'm looking at a stack of bills that need sorting. They're paid, the paperwork just needs organizing. I hope the internet works the same in London as that's how we're planning to pay our bills for the month. I should probably check on that. My cell phone---I should probably check on that, too. I wonder how we'll get to the airport. Maybe whoever takes me to the airport (sister Becky?) can water my plants.

Mmm, the chili I haven't made yet sounds good. The tofu stir-fry sitting in my refrigerator, however, does not.

It's sunny out. Maybe Joe will perk up. I should go for a walk in the sun. But the bills still need sorting and the thoughts still need writing and the chili still needs making and the catalytic still need converting and the questions still need asking and the to-do items still need listing and the body still needs bathing and the belly still needs eating.

But the face needs sun.

Dan drives a convertible.

His catalytic converter is a real winner.

Eureka!

Happy Blogiversary!

Today is my one-month blogiversary. As an occupation commitmentphobe, I didn’t think I’d last this long. It’s easy to write (well, some days it’s easy to write) but it’s something completely different to show people my writing even when it’s a stubby little paragraph. Generally when I write something, I only have a short window of time before I find myself completely hating it. It makes sticking with a piece hard, but that’s the “job” part of things (and the most difficult part for me). But with this blog, I don’t have the option of abandoning something and pretending I never wrote it. If I hate something the next day, it’s already out there. If I’m murky on an issue of grammar (as I often am) I have to let it go and risk exposing my ignorance. (I nearly published the word segue as segueway until Dan caught it…and it’s a big step, my admitting that here.)

There is no gestational period in the world of blogging. This is an exercise in keeping up. If I spend too long on something, if I think too hard, I’ll miss the window of opportunity to write about it. With the exception of general opinion pieces, I want this thing to be in real time. I have a hard time living in real time. I always seem to be a bit behind or thinking too far into the future. This thing has the ability to keep me in the here and now if I do it right.

Still, I’m not totally sure what “right” is. The beauty (and the nightmare for a perfectionist like me) is that this is a work in progress. I can’t know what I want this to be. It has to become. And the nature of blogging, at least in part, is that it becomes what it will be in front of and as a result of readers. This makes me sooo uncomfortable but it’s why I’m doing this blog in addition to my other “real” writing.

Shoot, this is what keeps me hooked to this gig; while writing now I’m realizing that maybe this is what I’m learning from the whole process as it relates to my other writing. I thought I was supposed to be keeping the muscles warm and getting comfortable with showing my stuff. This is certainly part of it. But maybe I could use this same attitude of letting things “become” with some of my other work. I get so frustrated when my writing doesn’t turn out as I want it to right away, but maybe I need to give it the same space to become what it actually is before judging it.

I remember my 11th grade English teacher instructing us to “Know where you’re going and deliver the goods” when it came to our papers. Maybe that’s good advice for a five-paragraph essay (maybe not) but it’s a bit restrictive for the “creative process.” Some of the best part of writing (and, um, life) is not knowing where you’re going.

When I started this post it was “supposed” to be a piece done in bullets of random thought. (It’s post-sleepova and I didn’t think I had the brain power for much more than that…) But to my surprise, thought happened here. Writing happened here. And what was “supposed” to be, became what it is.

Hopefully that happens to this blog. Shoot, hopefully that happens to me.

Okay, I suck.

My sister Cherie used to dress me up as Axl Rose and make me sing this song. Watching this video, I can see the resemblance.

I knew I was going to have to slow down (and that I couldn't post videos forever) but this is really just ridiculous. There are comments to which I haven't responded, new readers I haven't welcomed (Welcome.) and trivial life events I haven't reported in painstaking detail. Really? Three weeks in and I'm on vacation?

There really is no excuse because the whole point of a blog is to keep up, but I can say that the past week has been full of crazy and I look forward to delivering when a minute opens itself up.

Here are a few highlights from the past week and a look at what should be coming soon to a Spew near you:

1) I received the results of a comprehensive allergy panel and have found out that I can no longer eat...food.

2) Similar testing shows conclusive evidence that I am no longer in menopause. Huh.

3) I totally used that self-scanning option at Stop and Shop where you take the little gun around the store and bag your groceries as you go. (I'm thinking that with shoplifting alone I should be able to shave $20 off our weekly grocery bill.)

4) I am going to a sleepova tomorrow night with a posse of women and I can't think of a richer place to find material. (Hopefully they'll offer up their drunken permission when I ask if I can quote them.)

So I am here in spirit and taking brain notes as I go. Hopefully it will all turn into a blob of writing soon. Stay with me people, stay with me...all ***13*** of you!

I still love awards shows---especially for moments like this.

From last year's Tony Awards. If my husband doesn't surprise me with tickets to "In the Heights" soon, he's going to be "In the Spare Bedroom."

A change of plans has my mom spending the night at our apartment tonight. Last-minute cleanup involved shutting our bedroom door and changing the shower liner...not bad.

We spent the day at my niece's dance recital and now are home watching the Tony Awards. I'm pretty sure Dan and I will be doing our own kickline in bed tonight.

Coming soon: Words of substance

Do the math---we have a ways to go.

Okay, first of all, I'm not really sure if I'm allowed to post these little videos. (I have to admit that while part of me couldn't enjoy posting The Carpenters as the header for this blog more, another part of me looks at Karen Carpenter's gaunt face and is just sad. I watched that made-for-TV movie way too many times to be numb to her suffering.) Anywho, as I said, I'm not sure if I'm just allowed to post these things. Earlier today the "Wizard of Oz" clip went missing and I thought for sure somebody had alerted the internet po-po and I was on some kind of watch list (which meant readers!) but now it's back so I don't know what the story is. I thought maybe there was some sort of rights infringement issue or something but I'm just going to keep on infringing until I get a stern cyber talking-to.

But, speaking of rights---gay folk got 'em in the Granite State! Whoop! Whoop! (The second 'Whoop!' was for my brilliant segue.)

I live in a state where gay marriage is legal (or will be as of January 1, 2010) and I'm proud. It really feels good to be one of the six. I wish I could be proud of my whole country but it is what it is and I'll take it however I can get it.

That's what she said.

I'm sorry.

(As a totally inappropriate aside---with full knowledge that my two most loyal readers are Office fans---I have to confess that yesterday at an appointment with a medical professional, regarding the rigor of our work, I said, "I like it when it's harder," and then, without pausing, added, "That's what she said." Too much of The Office, too little of a filter. Thankfully, it garnered a laugh, albeit an uncomfortable one.)

Okay, back to business: I have to be honest, I'm surprised by how this feels. Every NH resident, gay or straight is a little bit more free today and I feel it in my bones. I feel that freedom. That's the part I didn't anticipate. But now that justice has prevailed (in my neck of the woods) I feel even more acutely aware of the injustice that was here yesterday and that which still exists in the 44 other states. I wanted this for myself, for my friends and family members, for strangers and for my country. But we all want this. I could throw out platitudes about how none of is free until equal rights prevail (and are federally protected) and though I believe this to be true, I feel it in a different way now. I know it's a good thing, this win. I will go to bed tonight knowing my little world is a bit more right today.

I just wish everyone could have this feeling. Six out of 50...we've only just begun.

P.S. Sisters-in-hip-pain: Having glitchy issues (a bitch of a glitch if ever a glitch there was) but sooo appreciated the input and am tryyyying to get back to you.

My ass hurts.

Okay, first of all I have to confess that it took everything in me not to title this entry “I have a newfound respect for sodomites.” (My “better judgment” told me that the word sodomite is just a tad too offensive, mostly for its homophobic implications and not so much because of the whole ass-sex thing, but clearly my “better judgment” rarely wins. My apologies.)

But seriously, I got on a bike for the first time in a long time yesterday (and again today) and it was much different than I remembered it. Mainly, I don’t remember this bike seat-shaped soreness. (Yeah, I started that thought with a ‘But seriously.’)

Wounding aside, I have to admit that the whole thing was painfully humbling. Yes, when it came to remembering how to stay balanced on two wheels and pedal it was as easy as, well, riding a bike. But, the ease ended there. Back in the day if I stood on my bike it was to showoff my mad Schwinn tricks. Today, it was the only way I could get enough momentum going to get myself up every tiny hill (and was also a welcomed reprieve for the damaged tissue). Moreover, though I had intended to go out for an hour-long jaunt, I barely made it through half of that and then had to follow it up promptly with a nap. A sad day indeed.

Another element of returning to the world of bike riding which ultimately changes the entire experience is the fact that I've been driving for the last 12 years and therefore know just how easy it would be to accidentally hit a biker. (And, if I’m being honest, oftentimes I actually want to hit these bikers, particularly when they’re slowing me down or hogging the road. I mean seriously, it’s not a vehicle. If you can hitch a baby to the back, it’s not a vehicle). I get tense passing bikers on narrow roads knowing that I am mere inches away from bumping Sammy-spandex into a marsh never to be heard from again. I can’t help but be aware of that as I’m panting up some hill on my bike and I hear the sound of an engine growing ever-closer behind me. (I stopped listening to my iPod while riding for this reason.) As a kid you possess some sort of misguided faith that the drivers are looking out for you. As an adult who could teach a course entitled “How to drive with your knees and get what you want from the backseat,” I damn well know better.

I’m back on the bike per my aunt’s suggestion as a potential treatment for a bad hip. I don’t know what happened (no Olympic injury or even high school sport to point to) but sometime in the last year my hip just started hurting. It started after long walks (walks--- not even jogs or, gasp, runs) and then I found myself limping after long car rides. And then short car rides. And then after sitting on the couch. And now I can’t even sleep on my right side. I recently completed six weeks of physical therapy which accomplished exactly nothing (except, of course, costing big bucks) and have gotten very grumpy about the whole thing. So when my aunt told me that after visiting many doctors herself without success she found riding her bike (her “pony” as she calls it) to be the only thing that helped her, I figured I should give it a try.

I have always wanted to be the bike riding type---thee of the toned, tanned calf muscle. I still don’t understand how they are able to pull of spandex and helmets while still looking sporty and cool. More than that, they seem outdoorsy. I wish I could pull off outdoorsy. (The fact that I don’t even know how to change gears on my bike---or why one would even want to do this---tells me that I have a ways to go.) I had thought moving to NH would be and automatic initiation into this world of crunchy-chic, but alas, nine years of living here has done nothing for my woods cred. (Get it? Not street cred, but woods cred…)

If I can’t be the sporty type than I would certainly settle for being the girl in the pastel skirt to my knees, a ponytail that is somehow both floppy and neat hanging down my back, riding an old-fashioned bike with curved handlebars and a basket full of apples and sunflowers from the Farmers’ Market. Basically, I would like to be the girl on her bike from the J.Crew catalog. However, I can’t even begin to explain how poorly me in a skirt on a bike would work. Just me in a skirt is a risk. Throw in balance, wheels and speed and I am a Hustler centerfold in the making. That is if Hustler centerfolds have bruises up and down their legs and scabbed knees---another reason I'm not the skirted biker type. I distinctly remember a moment in my early teenage years when I looked at the long, slender legs of some Seventeen Magazine model and then down at my own and thought, “Oh, screw.” (Coincidentally, I also remember trying to start a bike riding regime after that, too.)

Just as I realized then that I would never be the model from Seventeen Magazine, I know now that I’ll never be the girl with the golden hair riding my bike or even the type who can make an orange reflective vest work. (How do they do that?) But at some point you have to give up the worrying. I won’t be blond with flawless legs and the possibility exists that I could get hit by a car, but sometimes you just gotta ride anyway.