Easily Influenced

Monday, July 31, 2006

I am still filtering the events of the weekend. I can't recall when I laughed so hard - and met SO many wonderful people. Like People I will remain friends with for years and years!

But as to the debauchery I referenced earlier?

Here is something I found on my camera.

Apparently after 5 or 6 Mai Tai's, I can be persuaded to not only smoke....but do a series of Sun Salutations at quarter to 4 in the morning. So, take that Bitches who were talking smack about MommyBloggers. I didn't see any of your punk asses out there by the pool...

Out with a Bang

Sunday, July 30, 2006

Tammie and I are sitting here eating our Br-unc-inner. Yep. In East Coast Time it's 6 p.m. and I have just gotten my over-enthusiastic-party ass out of bed.

Let's just say that the level of wild debauchery witnessed last night can only truly have been SEEN to be believed.

We brought the sun up in the morning.

I am not going to tell tales....but, I'll leave you with this.

At one point I said:

"Dude. Back it up off from Sasquatch."


Do I know the Way to San Jose? Shit, yeah.

Saturday, July 29, 2006

This is what happens when I am let out of the house.

I get Tattooed. I drink - alot. and apparently, I can be persuded by Troll Baby and Roo to smoke like a chimney. And stay up until 3 a.m.

Evening One...A Success

Friday, July 28, 2006

How to tell if Evening One of BlogHer was a success...

You wake up and see this on the chair next to your bed.
Take alot of Advil and keep moving...

It's Favorites Week Here at Baleful Regards

Wednesday, July 26, 2006

I fly to BlogHer tomorrow - I am wildly WILDLY excited. I will be the one hugging random strangers in the airport. And flashing my boobs. Well, that's after the drinking... So here is an old favorite. I'm clearing my brain ( and digital camera)for the Tales of BlogHer "06"


Inspired by Fancypants’ (possessive used correctly) showing of her bathroom, I decided to give a virtual tour of the Inner Sanctum. Well, that isn’t true. Right now, I got Nothing, so you can all pretend that you have been invited to my house, and had far too much sangria or a really bad lemon drop martini*, or a worse caramel apple martini* and now you need to use the bathroom. Let me save you the trouble of opening the medicine cabinet, peeking behind the shower or under the sink. We’re all about transparency in my home.

First, the view from the Throne. My never-ending battle with the ends of the heating element are a lost cause. I put them on, they fall off. And rust. No one has died from lockjaw yet, but we remain hopeful.

Next, an example of my husbands fine carpentry skills. Terrance has some very admirable qualities. The man can write a federal grant like nobody’s business, and his knowledge of the cigar industry is a miracle to behold. However, I am indeed fortunate to have chosen him AFTER the industrial revolution, as we would clearly be the family in the home made of what ever was lying around. He has no mechanical or crafty skills. Note the caulking technique, with the carefully matched palette:

What’s behind that curtain, you ask – AH HA! Someone in this house is a product whore! Someone in this house likes to use a different shampoo every day. Someone in this house likes lots of shower gels. Yep. It’s me. Note how Terrance has attempted to Paint over the mold that grows on this sill. It shall not be overcome.

Ah yes, the back of the toilet. My favorite? The Fingertip Rope Caulk. More bath products. Band-Aids for imaginary boo-boo’s. The infamous “pick up your hair from the sink” lint remover, all in a basket that was part of the table pieces from my wedding…ten years ago. And my Husbands Neti Pot. Look it up. I can’t bear to talk about it.

My corner of the sink. I likey the products – Did I mention?. The formerly virgin hair clipper before I rudely defiled its purity by using it on my delicate bits.

Dear God! What is that? It is Under the sink. Jesus Christ! Are those additional shampoos shower gels and hair products? Yeah, Yeah – Suck it – I know. I am also a trifle obsessed with running out of feminine products during that time o’ the month, so I tend to Overbuy – hence the 2 packages of Always napkins. I will also be ready if we have any major head wounds, as you can use a sanitary napkin as a handy compress. See also Terrance’s box of Black male hair products…..Featuring Knotty Boy Dread Wax. If any of you whitey’s out there want to dread your hair – this stuff will do the trick. It has inter-racial endorsement in our home.

The piece de resistance: The medicine cabinet. Yes, there are two bottles of Advil in the cabinet. And one in my purse. What if we got snowed in and I needed Advil? Or was stuffy? Terrance is pretty sure that we will be busted as a meth lab soon, due the amount of Sudafed and Sudafed based products I buy and consume. All praise the AstroGlide! Thank you Gay men everywhere for bringing this product to the market! Hurrah for Burt’s Bees! And Pro-Activ… and the CO Bigelow mouthwash that could hill the avian flu if taken straight.

Finally, as you sit upon the throne, you glance to your right. Is that a Jack-O Lantern sticker you see? Yes. I could blame Emily, but no. I put that there before she was born. I like to see who notices. And finally, a piece of advice from Terrance…Don’t try to burn a candle in a heat conducting container on your bathroom counter.

So, do you still want to come over after I have revealed the inner sanctum? Do you dare?

*Shoutout to De-De for drinking my henious concoctions

I heart my in-laws

Tuesday, July 25, 2006

Yes, I am still in Detroit. I have snuck away to a Borders to get internet access, cause there is no wireless in my in-laws house and the dial up is Keeeeeeellllling me.

And while I am hiding away from humanity, I reflect on how much I love the women who are my collective in-laws.

For while I married into the family...I am now one of them. It does not matter if I ever divorce Terrance. I am still one of the family. In fact, my mother in law gave me a lengthy talk about how regardless of my marital status to her son, I am her daughter. I am welcome in her home. If I ever leave and re-marry - the new spouse is welcome in her home.

And it's true. I know this because I watch her three ex-husbands visit her and her husband. I have met all the children from all the marriages. I see ex-boyfriends and girlfriends come and have dinner.

So while this family exhausts introvert me, I am conforted by the knowledge that I am one of them. I will never be alone, for the women will be there behind me - no matter what.

Zen in a Double Wide Trailer

Sunday, July 23, 2006

This is a re-print from an earlier Post. I have an "event" today...so Tempers are running high here. Enjoy....I may be drinking by this evening.


Today I took my daughter to a birthday party - the first of her public school experience.

I had called several days ago to chat with the mom and flesh out what may be appropriate gifts, as well as what constitutes acceptable parental birthday decorum. My daughter is in class with the little boy - and he has a twin sister, so I needed to get 2 gifts.

Since I do not know these children - or any, that my daughter now attends school with, I find it hard to judge what the likes and dislikes of the group may be. In her former school, I KNEW the parents, I KNEW the children, I KNEW the birthday protocol. This is a brave new world.

School stuff is a touchy subject for me. I have over extended myself to make sure that Emily has the nicest clothes, the best toys - a sense of plenty that I never had as a child. I never had the right clothes, or things and knew it every day of my school life. My husband has called me a snob during some of the less proud moments when I cried because I didn't want to buy a coat at Walmart, or when he tried to get boots that weren't LL Bean. I know, I know, I know. I am not overly proud of this trait in myself. It has cost me more money that I can even bear to describe. It has caused fights between my husband and myself. And....yet...I...Can't...stop......

There is a rather infamous moment when a girlfriend was in the Hannah Andersson store and was buying Emily a gift, but didn't know her size. They called into the Main Store - who told her over the phone what sizes Emily was now wearing. We are greeted by name at the Gymboree store. Shameful.

So, I went and bought these children Playmobil. Playmobil has been a godsend for Emily. She loves her Playmobil to distraction - almost as much as Bitty Baby and American Girl. The Pirate Playmobil set for the boy and the Unicorn Fairy Playmobil set for the girl. Emily practically swallowed her tongue when she saw these in the bag. She has neither of these sets. So we wrapped them in fancy ribbon and paper (presentation is half the battle!) and off we went at the appointed time to the place.

When I initially called the mother, I made some assumptions from the phone call.

A. The woman's name is Candy.

B. I was told to look for the doublewide trailer, behind the fire dept.

C. The kids have never seen Playmobil and have no idea what it is. Nor does the mother.

I'll give you a moment to put this picture together in your mind.

Have you fixed it in your mind? Yeah, I did too.

So, off we go to find the doublewide trailer at 11 a.m. in the pouring rain. When I find it, it is all that I expect, and so…much…more.

There is a bathtub Mary in the front yard!
There are several less than functional vehicles parked to the side!
There is some sort of shed, which looks to be a serious fire/health hazard!
Half the Home is covered in Tyvek wrapping, the other half is painted!
There is an entrance, which is apparently NOT the entrance, but a crafty ruse to trick visitors.

We walk into the house in. I quickly take in the interior - which looks exactly like I assumed it would. There are different shag carpets from the early 70's – pieced together to make one carpet. There is a great deal of sheet rock that is being used as wall -- sans paper or paint. There is the floating praying hands portrait. There are Nascar pictures. The only thing I didn't get to look for was the "Screaming eagles of freedom" collectible plates, however I do believe that they were in the house.
Now, don't get me wrong. I was born in West Virginia. These are my people. My 30+ first cousins were lucky to graduate from High school, and most had their first babies at the median age of 16. I am, if truth be told, one genetic leap away from hillbilly. And not even a giant step. My hillbilly senses were a-tingling.

My hesitation wafted off of me like bad cologne. My smile was wide and frozen. Leave my child here?
I sized Emily up, and she said, "I think you should go Mama."
"Are you sure?” I reply - half wanting to stay and imprint this scene on my mind the way an anthropologist would, half wanting to get the hell out of there as fast as I could!
“Go, Mama. I’ll see you after the party.” Emily hugs me, and turns me around towards the door. I have been dismissed.

I leave. I get to my car. I begin to turn around in the v.e.r.y narrow driveway. I am almost all the way around when my front tire slips off the pavement and hits the mud that is the front yard.

My car slips farther down onto the mud. Sliding, Sliding, Sliding
All 4 wheels are now on the mud.
You have got to be shitting me.

A sheer wave of unadulterated panic slides over me. I try to reverse and the sound that my tires make is not a good one. Squelchy, wet and muffled. I go forward, and inch further out on the mud to get a more solid spot. Then reverse again. Minutes pass. I am not going anywhere. I try to call my husband - because he will surely get me out of this mess with his 1987 Jaguar? It would be like the blind leading the blind. I am in full-blown panic mode now. Seriously. If I could flee and leave my car there, never to be seen again, I think I would have done so. If you have ever had a real panic attack, you know of what I speak. All systems are screaming – RUN RUN RUN RUN!!!!

I go forward and backward. I call my husband. I get no fucking signal. I resist the urge to fling my phone and watch it sink into the mud. If I get out, I'll have to do it in bare feet, since my Birkenstocks will be no good in this mess. MOTHER FUCKER!!!! I try to call again and get a signal, but no answer. Just the voice mail. I practically scream, "Where are you!! I am stuck in this fucking front mud yard since these people have torn up their yard and I can't get out and where are you!!!" and hang up.

Terrance calls right back. "Hey babe - what's up?" He sounds casual and relaxed.
“What’s up? WHATS UP?? I am stuck in some metaphor for my fucking life. In the mud filled front lawn of a god damn double wide trailer.” I am panting, on the verge of hysteria.

"I'll be there in just a few minutes"

I put the car in park and sit. Breathe, Dawn, Breathe.

A small hand knocks on my window. I jump. The birthday boy is standing outside in the rain. I roll my window down.

"You're stuck in the mud." he says.
"Yeah, I know." (Inner voice: Don’t scream at the kid, Dawn, don’t scream at the kid- keep calm)
"My dad can pull you out - he's got a four wheel drive"
"Ok, I called my husband too." I say this in a feeble voice.
"I got stuck right over there when I was driving my four wheeler - see the hole?" – he points.
"Oh yeah, Emily says you like her hair", I say
He smiles shyly, "It's fluffy", he says

And then the nicest man I have ever seen drives a 1983 GMC truck down, hooks a chain to the back end and pulls me out of the mud. This guy even looks like he could have been one of my cousins. Mud flies, engines groan, my car is slowly pulled from the pit that I have dug with my tires.

"I'm really sorry for tearing up your yard", I say to him.
"No problem - want to come in the house?" Birthday father says.
"No, my husband just pulled up - I'll go let him know I'm ok - Thanks again"

Like Buddha himself coming down from Nirvana to re-teach me the lesson of judging others, I drive home, chastised.

I swear, everything is better in the Big Martini Glass

Friday, July 21, 2006

Thank god she's Feral...and thank god I'm drinking. Only the best for my bitches, I say, as I test out the maple martini recipe. Cause, it has to be Just so, for it's BlogHer debut. I opened the supah-good rum courtesy of my favorite Guatemalan ( who brought it to me on her donkey, wrapped in her serape) and am now enjoying the maple goodness.

I am packing tonight for both BlogHer and the journey into the Chocolate City of Detroit. I can't help but feel really white when ever I venture into Detroit. The spouse wants to start driving at some god-fucking-forsaken hour in the morning - you know - to beat the mad rush of Canadians to Detroit. Cause they are flooding the borders. As if.

Peace out.


Thursday, July 20, 2006

I have more acupuncture tomorrow. Yippeee!

I have conquered the wasp's nest. The one I didn't see when I was hacking at the overgrown shrubbery. The one that rose up in a cloud of anger and stung the shit out of me two weeks ago. Yeah. The bites that still are slightly swollen on my hand? Those are the fuckers. I had to set Buddah aside and spray the holy living shit out of their nest at dusk yesterday. I think I emptied an entire can - of Raid and whoop ass - on this nest. The sight of their poor posioned bodies made me feel bad for approximately 3.8 seconds...until I pointed to my hand and said "You'll never sting me again, mother fuckers. You fucked with the wrong gardener..."

I started to take pictures, and then got the sense that this was TOO much mocking to lay upon the wasps.

Went to the market again today. I am a fresh produce whore. Sigh. I have some pictures of heirloom tomatos, but no time to upload them tonight. A Rainy day perhaps?

So look here, and let us all hope that my sense of inner calm returns, and I will not have to visit the wrath of Dawn upon any small buzzing creatures in the near future...

Needle Work

Wednesday, July 19, 2006

Yesterday, I saw my new acupuncturist. She planned ahead and asked a massage therapist friend of hers to stay and translate for the two of us.

The beautiful thing about non-western medicine is the willingness to listen to your entire symptom in context of your life history. It isn't just about your headache - or in my case, the emotional rollercoaster I have been riding. It is about everything. When I told the Acupuncturist about the tingles I get which tell me that one person is thinking about me, she did not look at me like I was crazy. She did not roll her eyes. She asked : "Is this person living or dead?"

I could have jumped up and kissed her. I asked the massage therapist translator if I sounded crazy and she said "No, not at all. This is very important."

After my history had been gathered, we said goodbye to the translator and I entered the acupunture room. I was then given a very stern talking to by my new acupunturist. I was letting my energy scatter. This was leaving me vulnerable. I was thinking about things outside my realm of control and attention. This was draining me and causing my imbalance. She emphatically pointed in front of her "You must concentrate on You! Your Daughter, Your husband. Not think over here..."

I started to laugh and cry. Yes, I understood. Yes. It was true.

"Good! You'll get better!", she smiled and clapped her hands.

I got up on the table. I lay down. She got to work, positioning me on the table.

She started with needles in my scalp. Many of them. Upon their entry, I could feel the chi activate - a slight painful twitch and then the release. I immediately knew that She was good. Then my neck, and onto my belly and ribs. Next came my legs. Having my legs done was newest to me. The connection was instantaneous. When the needles were tapped in, I felt the energy move. There was a slight resistance at first, then the rush. My feet and wrists were done last.

She finished and touched my legs. "Relax", she said firmly and turned on traditional Chinese flute music. I lay there, in this very austere office. I could feel the movement of my energy activating - my head began to clear. I lay there with my eyes open.

She would come back in and manipulate the needles to keep the chi moving. I worked on centering myself in my body, connecting with myself and feeling rather than daydreaming. That is, as she observed, an issue. I leave my present state behind and live somewhere outside myself. I need to be Here, Now. Mindfulness.

At the end of the session, she told me that I would come back on Friday and see her again. She would do my front and then my back with the needles. She took me into her office and showed me the traditional medicine I would be taking. She went over the instructions with me to make sure I understood. Yes, One of these pills every day after breakfast for 10 days.

Now, remember that this is a true Chinese herbalist. As in, trained in China. She is not handing me a bottle of pills. She hands me a box:

She is very clear. I am to take One pill a day, after breakfast. She feels that this formula is Exactly what I need to detoxify my liver, and rebalance my chi.

I appreciate beautiful things. These pills are beautiful. Look:

They are a round white wax ball, with a gold stamped seal on them. I am to squeeze the pill to open it, revealing the medicine inside.

I am to unwrap the cellophane around the gold ball, and then take the medicine.

Yes, This is a HUGE pill. Emily watched me try to throw it back and said "Wow, Mom - you looked like you were going to throw up there for a minute!" Which was true. I prevailed, however, and swallowed it down. I can't wait to go back on Friday.

Many of you have asked questions about Chi. I will, in my VERY limited understanding, do my level best to explain what I have experienced in Acupuncture and Yoga.

Your Chi is your life energy. Your body has meridians through which the chi flows - when all is well. However, your chi can become unbalanced for a variety of reasons. At times, I can feel the chi while I do Yoga. There are days when I can hold poses easily...and the next day? I fall over while trying to do Tree pose. It is, as best I can describe it, a flow, an energy - a harmony.

Acupunture inserts very thin needles at specific points on the body to activate the chi. These points work in conjunction with other points, this is why a spot on your foot may be connected to a spot on your neck. (I used accupressure massage during labor - and my spots were on my foot and a point in my hand)

Acupunture seeks to rebalance the chi, so the body can take care of itself. After a session, I feel really relaxed. I sleep wonderfully. I described it as feeling like I'd taken an Ativan for anxiety, but without the fuzzy after effects.

BlogMe? No, Blog YOU....

Tuesday, July 18, 2006


I am pleased and honored to be interviewing my roommate at BlogHer - the lovely and talented Tammie, author of Soul Gardening. Tammie has always impressed with her insightful and personal writing style. I felt connected to her from the very first time I visited her blog.

If you are not familiar with Tammie's blog - visit. She might even make you a kick ass mix CD someday, if you are very, very lucky.

When did you start blogging and why?

I started blogging a little over a year ago as a way to stretch my creativity. I write corporate marketing for a living, but it's so boring and bland, I needed an outlet. It quickly became a way to meet other people and work through some emotional issues and now it's such a part of my life, I can't imagine not having it.

Why did you choose to share that piece of yourself in a photograph?

I like my smile. It's a little crooked and imperfect, like me. And it's the first thing I notice about other people.

What don’t you write about? Anything considered a no-no in your book?

I share a great deal of my personal life on my blog. I think it's important because writing online for me has been a way to work through some things. But I would never write intimately about my relationship with my husband or any disagreements I might have with him if that were ever the case. It wouldn't be fair to rally support for my side from my readers when he didn't have an opportunity to present his case.

How do you feel about meeting bloggers in real life? Are you nervous? Will you have great expectations? What do you home to take away from the BlogHer experience?

I'm naturally a shy person, but blogging has really forced me to come out of my shell. I've actually had an opportunity to meet several of my favorite online writers in person already and each experience has been extraordinary. Although I'll always be a bit nervous meeting new people I am looking forward to meeting so many of the women whose words I read every day and many more whom I haven't discovered yet. I hope to take home a new and deeper appreciation for the bloggers I already know and a whole bunch of new urls to check out on my return.
And of course I'm totally jazzed about hanging out with my roomate for three days :o)

So soon we’re going to meet each other at BlogHer. Important question. How do you party?

I'm kind of a low key partier. I would prefer a small group in which I can talk, ask questions, hear answers and get to know people than a big, loud party. But I do like to throw back a few and I'm ready to hang, even though I'll be on west coast time.

Are you and your blogging persona the same person?

I like to think that I represent myself truly through my writing. Of course meeting anyone in person is not the same as reading their words, but I hope that anyone who meets me will find that I'm basically the same in all the important ways.

If you had a super power, what would it be?

The ability to breathe underwater. It's kind of a selfish superpower because I don't think I could help mankind in any way - look at Aquaman he's really very ineffectual all things considered - but it would still be awesome to not have to deal with SCUBA gear all the time.

Chi Overflowing

Sunday, July 16, 2006

I went seeking a new acupunturist last week.

Perhaps we all don't understand the significance of this statement.

Dawn, the woman who went for three years without a haircut when my stylist left. Dawn, the woman who has her therapist agreeing to treat her over the phone from Canada since I don't want to bond to a new one. I don't take to the "change" so well. I am, what I would call in Early Childhood Lingo - "slow to warm".

But I needed this. I can feel the chi backing up in my body. I can feel the malaise lingering over my head. For the first time in my life, I have nothing to do and it is beginning to make me a little crazy. (All right - keep your "But you're already crazy, Dawn" comments to a dull roar.)

Here is the kicker. I have time now. Lots of time. Sadly, I don't have an income to match the time. This presents a conundrum. When I wander in those lovely marches and shops along Rue Saint Laurent, I want to BUY things. I want to spend as freely as I did when I was bringing in a healthy salary. And the shoes, the shoes...they call out for me.

I know, a whole host of you are playing me the violins right now. Poor Dawn. Living on one income.... Remember, I have ALWAYS worked. Always. I have ALWAYS kept my own checking account. I have never had to clear my purchases with Terrance, or anyone else for that matter. It feels weird to think about money. I thought about finding a part time job for right now, but I am legally barred from being employed. It says so on my immigration documents.

So, I figured with what little money I have left in my checking account, I am spending it on me. I decided to find an acupunturist and just go. Maybe every two weeks instead of every week...or even once a month. All I know is that I am starting to feel low grade bad...and when I feel bad, shit starts going downhill.

There is a local acupunturist in the section of town that I live in. Her office is near the bakery. I figured that this was Karma encouraging me to keep this up.

Last week, I walked into her office.

Now, understand that this is a Chinese born and educated acupunturist/Chinese herbalist. Her office does not look like my former acupunturist in New Hampshire. She has a very straight forward office. No fountains. No flowers. But the smell? The same. I think that most acupunturists who are also herbalists - their offices smell a certain way. Like all the herbs combining into one earthy smell. I began to relax as I climbed the steps toward the smell.

She was on the phone and I waved at her. She motioned for me to wait a moment. After she finished her call, she welcomed me in. She asked if I spoke French. No. Did she speak English? No.

That did not stop me in the least. I gestured and spoke slowly, she took my pulse and in very halting english/french we communicated what I was asking. I decided that I wanted this kind woman to treat me. She looked me straight in the eyes and watched me and then took my pulse. "You tired?", she asked. Yes. I am tired. "You cry sometimes?" Yes. I do. My liver, I pointed. Chi overflowing. She nodded. I opened my mouth and pointed to my tongue. She nodded and smiled at me.

My appointment is Tuesday at 10:30. I am deeply looking forward to it.

Terrance's first question was "How much will it cost?"

"I don't know, but I need it and it's worth it."

And that was the end of that discussion.

Vlad revealed....

Saturday, July 15, 2006

You know, I forget that we all don't immediately know where my brain is going with every post.

So here is the Vlad primer for those of you new to his appearances on the blog.

Vlad will forgive your innocence..and give you links so you can meet him in his full glory....

Intro, or how Vlad came to be here

Vlads first written piece

Vlads Triumphant return

I leave Vlad in charge while I vacation

Vlad comments on what he sees going on in my life

Vlad suspects that I am trying to move without him

Now you must bow before the greatness that is Vlad the Imapler!!

Pollination...and the Return of Vlad

Thursday, July 13, 2006

HAHAHAHA!! I am Vlad the Impaler! Yes, I am aware that there are flowers around me. The ungrateful wench thought she could leave me behind in that cesspool of a "state" I laugh at her. Does she not know of the hunting and tracking abilities of Vlad?

Of course, she may be unaware that I urinated on the wheels of her mechanical horse before she left, so I could follow my scent to where ever she was fleeing. I am a crafty huntsman.

Do not look at those flowers. I, Vlad, command you to Stop looking at those accursed flowers. I will impale each of you one stake higher than the other in concentric circles so you can see you are not above the justice of Vlad. Vlad may be cruel, but he enjoys symmetry.

And what is this "Border" of which I crossed? Some young man attempted to question Vlads royal right to ride across this invisible line. Does this fool not know that I, Vlad, took on the Turks from the Danube River Valley? He foolishly asked Vlad to pull over to one side for further questioning. I happily impaled him.

Damn your eyes, miserable wench. You place me amongst Flowers? As if I was the Queen of the May. I am VLAD! VLAD THE IMPALER!

Ah, the wench is surly. She raises fearless eyes and dares to growl at Vlad. Vlad senses that there is something happening here. Vlad is not blind to the needs and desires of a woman. Does the wench wish to bear one of Vlad's heirs? For Vlad would happily oblige the wench, after he impales the man.

No, that does not seem to be it. Vlad hears something, the clicking of pills in a bottle? The womans monthly moon blood is upon her. Ah, yes. She is irritable. Vlad offers to disembowel her, but that is met with icy silence. (At times the woman scares Vlad a little, but do not tell anyone that or I will wrench your tongue from your mouth and feed it to the impaled border boy.)

Alas, the woman also tried to go back on her Wellbutrin magic pills. This was unwise. Very, Very unwise. She is paying the price.

I will plan my raids into this "city". I expect to have it conquered by the fortnight. There seems to be a new member of this worm like family, who is even more pathetic than the humans.

A feline. Yes, a small grey feline, who mews and carries on at the back door. I would like to impale her, but the smallest hellhound seems appeased by it's presence. Also, it has only a stump of a tail. The brings Vlad endless merriment.

So look at your maggot filled flowers, and fear me, for I am Vlad. And I will be planning new and horrible deaths for you. I will also perhaps dispense parenting advice at this "park". There are some small toad like creatures who are in sore need of impaling, or sharp stick poking at the very least.

"The cheese grater isn't meant for your skin"

Wednesday, July 12, 2006

Hey, you think - where did that other post go?

Well, it has moved over to Mommybloggers. If you didn't read it, go check it out now.
Ms Eden K (Fussy) was featured this past week, so it was a bizarre and timely meeting of the cosmic minds.

So for now, I leave you with this.

Me, tonight at dinner:

"If you don't stop that ninja shit, you're going to have to leave the table."

followed with

"That also includes the dancing and gyrating."

I expect to add:
"Don't fork yourself in the eye"
"Try not to drink the Hot sauce"


Sunday, July 09, 2006

I have always been a sensual person. If you believe in such things, I am a Taurus with Venus in all houses. The sensual of the sensual. Sex? Obviously, but it is more than that.

If you want to pique my interest, visually stimulate me. Send an aroma my way. Play something that catches my ears. I will wander over to touch, or taste or smell what has caught my attention.

I am the woman who will lean into a neck and decide if I will sleep with a man based on his smell. Terrance had fabulous aroma the night we met. My mother will tell you that I have always smelled my food before eating. I actually never realized that I did such a thing until I saw myself doing it on videotape.

So, it is no wonder that food and tastes have played a paramount part in my life. I can tell you where I was when the first Creme Brulee passed my lips. Or the first real dim sum that I ate, or the homemade ravioli with the aioli sauce that made me want to cry. Terrance says one of the reasons he fell in love with me was my adventurous culinary tendancies. I rarely say "No" to something new.

This is part of what is winning my heart to Montreal. It is a sensual city. Perhaps all cities are so. I don't recall this of New York or Boston, but I concede that I may not have been in the right places. Montreal is sensual in the way I imagine France to be sensual. Everything, all at once, all senses stimulated and tingling.

So today, I give you the marche we found today:

Marche Jean-Talon - in the heart of Montreal's Little Italy...On World Cup finals day...and these folks love them some soccer. And Now I will shut it and give you Dawn's Sensual Montreal....

◄Design by Pocket