It’s a Full Moon! And I Just Got My Period…On My Birthday…at Harbin Hot Springs…:o/

5-3-15: 7a.m

My eyes crack open on this glorious Sunday before my birthday!  I rise out of bed, full of pep and zeal and ready to begin the events I have planned for myself - on this most auspicious of occasions….my birthday.  I don’t know what it is about my birthday, but it has always been that day where it has felt OK for me to feel special….all.day.long.  So I make sure I always take full advantage of this.

This year, I have planned an over-nighter up to Harbin Hot Springs.  For those of you who have never been there, I can hardly describe it, except to say “Clothing Optional.”  It is also incredibly beautiful, nestled deep in the woods of Lake County, just north of the Napa Valley.  I have been to Harbin at least a handful of times, sometimes alone, sometimes with a partner.  Today I am flying fly solo and will be spending the night there and enjoying the full moon experience at precisely 8:42 pm tonight, PST.   

As I rise from the toilet and look back to flush, my eye catches the side of the toilet bowl – Oh FFS, Jeebus, you CANNOT be for real!  On my BIRTHDAY??? At the NUDIE SPA?????  BUT THIS IS ALL WRONG!!! i insist. To nobody.

Now for those of you who are sitting back wondering how it is that I couldn’t have known that my period was to come precisely on the day that I scheduled myself to go to the clothing-optional hot springs, I have two words for you: 47. 

And I know there are worse things than to be on your period at the nudie spa, but all I can think about is that I am going to have to deal with this conspicuous STRING hanging out of my nether regions, and that is not how I want to present!  Especially being a single, available woman, and before you start getting all grossed out about the potential for catching a date at the nudie spa, I say this: it could happen.  And really, Harbin has gotten a bad reputation in the past for being full of sleazies, but it’s not, i mean, i go there, right?!  And besides, the gays and the furrinurs (that's pronounced "foreigners" for those of you who don't speak 'Murican) seem to have taken the place over anyway, so whatever reputation it earned in the past seems to have faded like yesterday's laundry hung out to dry too long.

Anyway.  Whatever.  As I start to rifle through my options, (there are two), I ponder again whether a real Deva® Cup might hold more than the cheapie disposable option I purchased - let’s call it the Don’t-a® , which is super-rigid and is really only reliable after day #3.  I dunno, I just never thought that i(t) was worth the $35 price tag.  I still don’t, throw in a couple of Don’t-as, and make a run to the Walgreen’s for a box of tampons.  

2 p.m.

I arrive at Harbin, unpack my things and get myself situated on the front deck.  I know that before I settle in and get good and nude, I need to deal with my woman-thing.  On the drive up, I have decided that my period has not yet begun in earnest and so perhaps for this first day I WOULD be ok with the knock-off cup.  I look through my toiletries bag, once, twice, three times and DAMMIT no Donta’s!  Apparently I left them unpacked somewhere in the bathroom.  I grab a tampon and head for the bathroom.  

Yep.  I embody CONSPICUOUS on the walk from the bathroom to the deck, now in full-nude.  And I am trying to be comfortable with the whole string-out-of-the-nether-regions situation, but I am just not!  I feel like i am being watched left and right, even as i know that there are precisely zero fucks being given about me and my "situation" at this particular moment.

It's not until 2 or so hours later that suddenly, out of nowhere I realize – wait – that tampon isn’t going anywhere!  It finally dawns on me how my body works and that I can actually push the string “out of view” so to speak, without fear that the tampon will vanish inside my body!  EUREKA!  I'm back in the game again.

8:00 p.m.

I am half-way passed out on my bed and willing myself to get ready for the Full Moon ceremony happening at the warm pool just outside my window. 

8:30 p.m.

I hear chanting.  I cannot move. It's like i have sleep paralysis.  But i am not asleep.

9:00 p.m.

The chanting has stopped and I force myself to go outside and LOOK at the full moon, not full anymore since it is now 9 p.m.  I stumble out of my room and look down at a bunch of full-moon revelers.  I must look awkward, fully clothed, and bumbling out to catch a glance of the moon.  Which I do, and then turn right back around and go back upstairs.  And pass out. 

5-4-15 8 a.m. (my birthday)

I wake up and realize that I am not going to make the 8 a.m. yoga class.   I make my way to the café for a cup of coffee and perhaps a tasty treat for my birthday!  The guy in front of me asks about what’s inside that delicious-looking croissant...rasberry!  But apparently nobody has informed him that its my birthday and he takes it for himself.  He doesn't even smile at me as he walks by with his score.  Asshole. 

10:00 a.m.

My mind drifts to- and- fro- as I lay on the deck and let my body finally relax.  I try hard to stay in the moment, but I know that the clock has started ticking on my departure time, so it’s difficult.  I’m thinking about what I need to do in order to be ready to go, then I think about dinner plans (do I have food in the house?), then I think about that time at Ecstatic Dance when I was so awkward with this guy who I think is super-cute (I laugh about this out-loud, folks next to me must think I’m cray).  Back and forth, to and fro my mind wanders, and I realize I need to pee and get up and head to the bathroom, and walk straight into…the dude who I am crushing on at Ecstatic Dance.  My face lights up, and he doesn’t know why.  And he is naked, and I am naked.  And I say “Hi There!” as we get closer, thinking what the fuck do I do, do I go in for a hug?  And this little voice inside me says “Lean in!”  And I say back to this little voice, “Wait, what?  I thought we weren’t supposed to lean in!” And it says “Lean in!” again, so I lean in, and he catches me with his hands on my shoulders and I turn to the side and he plants a kiss on me. 

A kiss from the dude who I am crushing on at Ecstatic dance in the nude at Harbin Hot Springs on my 47th birthday.  

I was self-conscious for the remaining part of my stay but it was all worth it. 

Happy Birthday to me.

“He Loves Me! He Really Loves Me!” Oh, wait…he just wants money. Texts from the Sun – 040315

I had just sent Tre off with his father after a week-long spring break.  Tre’s spring break, not mine.  But that didn’t keep him from reminding me “But its spring break, mom!” if it looked like I was getting too involved in my work.

It was a lovely week playing with the child.  It was also a long week, so when I got this text from Tre about 20 minutes after sending him off, I was over.the.moon:

“Hey ma!”

Awwwwww!  How sweet is THAT, I thought to myself.  Here he has only been away from his mother not 20 minutes and he is reaching out to touch me.  My grin is a mile wide!  So I respond:

“Hey Tre!”

I start imagining what he is going to text next.  Like maybe he will he say:

“Just wanted to let you know how much I love you!”  Or:

“Thanks for such a great spring break!” Or even:

“You are the best mom ever!!!”

My fantasy is interrupted by a beep on my phone, indicating a text message has been received.  I can hardly wait to FINALLY have my “World’s Greatest Mom” award endorsed by none other than the Sun himself:

“Can I spend forty five [of my allowance] to buy something big?”

My heart sinks, deep, deep down.  But I recover quickly.  I show I am bigger than all of that. I even smilee.

“Sure. :o)” 

I mean, he really doesn’t have to check with me….it’s his money.  But he does, though.  It’s cute.

“Thanks!  :D”

Awww….he’s smiling…look at that!  He’s such a happy boy.  

#thisisisis

What happens today when you google “Isis?”  All sorts of horrifying words and images are presented about a group of so-called *Islamic* extremists who are doing VERY BAD THINGS to other people in the name of so-called religion. 

I.S.I.S. is an abbreviation for Islamic State of Iraq and Syria. But even the president of the United States refuses to call it that – President Obama calls the group I.S.I.L., replacing “Syria” with “Levant,” a term used to describe that area of land which encompasses Syria, and also includes the countries/regions of Jordan, Israel, Lebanon and Palestine.  Because clearly, Mr. President knows that this group is NOT Isis. THIS is Isis.  

Let’s take a little dip back into our not-so-recent history when another sacred, ancient symbol was bastardized in the name of killing a whole LOT of people.  A time when a megalomaniacal leader managed to brainwash an entire civilization into compliance.   I am, of course, talking about the Svastika.

When I pointed to the Svastika and asked the Sun to tell me what it meant, he looked at me as if I was cray and said. “That? That stands for good luck, mom.”

“Yes!  Yes!”  I exclaim, “it DOES!”  And then I thought…where in the H.E. double hockey-sticks did he learn THAT from?

Me: Tre, where in the H.E. – double-hockey sticks did you learn THAT from?

Tre: From “The Legend of Zelda,” mom.

video games.  butofcourse. 

In the Egyptian pantheon of deities, Isis is a very important deity indeed.   Her name is interpreted to mean “throne,” which is where Isis takes her place, among the other various gods and godesses.  Conspicuously absent is her ruling partner, Osiris, who was killed by his brother Set (sibling rilvary), yet still managed to father a child with Isis, Horus, who eventually avenged his father’s death by killing Set and restoring justice.  It has been suggested that many of today's currently-practiced religions have their origins in Ancient Egypt's "Cult of Isis," including (gasp!) Christianity. 

I remember a television show when I was in my grade-school years (back in the 70's), called  "Isis," later renamed "The Secrets of Isis."  The show centered around a woman who was able to call upon the powers of Isis when she needed super-strength to fight injustice.   She would take out her amulet, spin around, calling out “Oh Mighty Isis….”  and the, essentially turn into Isis, who would then, as the "Champion of Truth and Justice" go off and be her bad-ass self, taking out ALL of the the evil-doers.  For REAL evil-doers, and not of the George W. Bush variatal of evil-doer.  The show has also been described as: 

"...Saturday morning's first live-action super-heroine, saving lives and stopping crime in a mini-skirt and go-go boots...." 

You can see a clip of  "Isis" here.

Today, what the children are getting instead are ongoing stories describing man's inhumanity to man, in gory detail, and a deep dive into the personal life of JihadiJohn,  a Kuwaiti-born, British-raised, University of Westminister-educated, later-turned I.S.I.L. militant, who is reportedly the man pictured in many of the various be-heading videos broadcast around the globe far-and-wide. A LOT of times.  Holy Moly are we sick.

Enough is enough.   I refuse to see a childhood symbol of female strength, courage and wisdom be bastardized, twisted and used to torture and kill in the name of (self) righteousness. 

Isis, IS, WAS, and always will BE a symbol of ALL that is whole-ly, good and just.    

And so – to review:  THIS is NOT Isis:

 

And neither is this:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THIS is Isis:

 …and THIS.

 

...and here is Isis nursing her baby Horus:

 ...any questions?

“Spring Cleaning 2015” - A candid conversation with My Inner Critic (I.C.)

I.C. WTF are you doing?

me: spring cleaning.

I.C. No you’re not.          

 

me: what do you mean I’m not?

I.C. You’re cleaning baseboards.

me: well, people clean baseboards during a spring cleaning. 

I.C. Since when have YOU cleaned baseboards? In the 10, going on 11 years you have resided here?

me: OK mom’s coming to visit next week.

I.C. Hmph.  It's gonna take a lot more than clean baseboards to convince your mom you're not living in filth, darlin'.

Me: lol. :o(

I.C. Anyway, you know your mother tells you, time and time again, she does not give any fucks about how filthy you live. 

Me: I know, I know she SAYS that, but you should see HER house!  I mean, my GOD, the pressure!  THE  PRESSURE!!!  it would crack even the heartiest of eggshells!!!

I.C. OK, OK calm down now, jeezus, no need getting your grannies up in a bunch. You tend to be a gripper, you know. 

Me: yeah, well, sometimes you just lay it on so goddamn THICK!  I mean, anybody would crack under the pressure!!!

I.C. no. just you. 

Me: I’m just asking you, please, just ease up teensy-weensy bit, willya?!?

I.C. le sigh….

Me: I mean you can be soooooo goddamn dramatic!  

I.C. You’re doing a good job, by the way.  You’re momma’s gonna be proud of you.  

Me: awwwwww!  thank you!  who needs a hug?

I.C. don't go there. 

"RAGE"

I call Tre at his dad's today to see how he is feeling after being sick for the last couple of weeks.  He says that he feels fine, but I sense something else in his voice.  So I ask:

“What’s up?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? C’mon, I hear something else, what is it?”

After a bit of back of forth in which he assures me that he does not want to talk about it because he “doesn’t want to” he finally lands on “rage.”

“Rage?” I repeat. 

“Minecraft.” He says. 

“Oh, you’re gaming. “ I say. 

“Mhmm.” He says. 

“And you're raging.”

“Mhhm”

“At your friends.”

“Mhhm.”

“And what are they doing? How are they responding back?” I query.

“Well, they’re just defending themselves.”

“Oh, well, right,” I say to him, in complete understanding.  “I mean, anyone would, right?”

“Mhhm” says Tre.

“I feel you.” I say.

And then I remember my own recent incidents of expressed rage directed AT the child and I say “and you’ve seen me rage, haven’t you?”

HALLOWEEN - 2010 - I can be pretty scary....

Mhhm” says Tre.

“Yep” I offer, “I feel you.”

And I did.  And I do.

Check please.