Yeah. Go ahead. TOS me.

Anyway. I'm disgruntled, disturbed and all those other dis-words...There's this giant spider messing with my head (I swear what ever bug he's eating we need to figure out how to synthesize into fuel for NASCAR racers.) every time I look up - he is hauling his little arachnid hindparts across the top of my printer....And I aint taking a chance on smacking the printer. With my luck I'd break it, and the spider would land on some flaccid exposed fleshy part of me and bite the crap outta me. Ah yes.

I am really beginning to miss the old Tamster. The pre interesting banshee who frequented her buds pages when she should have been amortizing something....now it seems I am working phrenetically at work for no clear goal...18 months with no pay increase and no pay increase in sight. This week my copeep is on vacation so I cover three desks instead of two...and there is no time.

My saturdays it seems are also at least partially a thing of the past. You see - if I profess any shred of Christianity then I should be doing SOMETHING with my time that blesses others...and it has been determined by the HOH that we should join forces with some other church types and get involved helping families in the neighborhood around church - yard work, house work etc....and while its a good idea - I wonder who will come around and help me now that I shoulder the cooking again (on top of laundry - spawn taxi service and most of the homework detail) and cooking entails actually cutting, slicing and sautee-ing non of this open a box and nuke something till it sizzles around here.

My life is becoming a blur...a nauseating jet propelled blur and I tire of it. Being the control freak I am - I feel the need to lock some things down...perhaps four blog sites is two too many.

So for those of you who also know me on myspace....feel free to comment there but I won't be doing much active posting. And multiply...and 360 - I must streamline or I won't be able to read anyone. Tam needs a system so she can come visit, you know? Actually, Tam just needs her fam to get the hell outta her face so she can breathe. And Tam needs her freakin' lunch hour. Perhaps we need to take Tam out and hose her down....what do you think?

The picture above was taken at the pier at Grand Haven MI. They're ducks....really. (tam runs off the page screaming oh duck oh duck oh duck.

Ok - no fancy stuff - no happy prose, no abysmal poetic dirges - I'm halfway between tears and a coma here and I think I've spun a hole to China.

As you may know my husband's dad passed away on Saturday - only a few hours before Dave was planning to be at his side. While we grieve deeply - he personally was ready to go - a man of wisdom and planning - he left nothing undone. He was and will continue to bless his family.

That being said, it was determined to get that family out to MI for the memorial service on Saturday - including me and my spawn. The big spawn had a butt load of homework as did the little spawn on Sunday - so I spent my afternoon helping my babies with a fork in one hand and my other hand on the PC printing stuff for a science project and a book report. Then at around nine in the evening when the old rats in my cranium quit gnawing on the gray matter - my dear loving hubby hits me with - yes, you are coming out here on Wednesday morning. (I'll refrain from expletives as my heart goes out to the guy right now...)

For those of you who 'do the math' - the Boehms have obligations tonight - none of which include celebrating my birthday (ahem - again - no expletives, I defer to the circumstances) which means we had last night to get our respective suitcases full of crap packed - oh and lets add "Honey can you find the pic of Lou in the sombrero and Lou holding the baby and Lou working on the roof?" Sighs. Somewhere in the four hours last night I located and scanned and printed a dozen family pics (going through six photo albums) typed another essay, made dinner and found the gray suit with the cuffed pants and the belt and the shirt, and the pet trimmers for the beard...his beard not mine, made sure everyone had sox...and I polished my nails.

People. I'm stressed. I love my fam. I want to be a blessing. But I am fully saturated and I still have to get on a plane tomorrow. My latent OCD is on full tilt. I am not sure if I should laugh, cry, scream or just stare bug eyed out my window. How many can I do at once?

So I won't promise any blogging till I return on sunday. If my page gets a bit silent - don't worry. I'm not going away for good. I just don't think I will have spare time while with the fam to blog...so the ranting will have to wait a few days....

Peace. Keep us in your prayers.

I love you.

spinning liquid threads

furtive verses through my head

this is what the night brings

silken whispered vision

damnable decisions

this is what the night brings

She sneaks in through my window

Sunless spirit fills my room

Cryptic images disturbing

Gossamer graveclothes for my tomb

Silent songs unmeant for singing

This is what the night brings

Skitters in on feline feet

Prowling my intimate thought

Scares to life the dangerous things

That hell and my bad seed hath wrought

Death follows me on flitting wings

This is what the night brings

And you wonder why

Can't close my eyes

Against this lesser light that stings

I'm mortified

By the hell inside

The shadow that the night brings

041007

TL Boehm

a little bit late....

It was your option to vote down wretched poetry posts. You didn't. Now you must suffer.

Tomorrow is Thursday and you know what that means. A free evening. Reruns of Supernatural...so I am left with either taxes or blog hopping. Guess which one I'm choosing. Guess.

Todd - your memorial....I'm still cogitating....I loved that idea BTW....

so explain to me will you the validity of Cletus Crackhead barreling up into my trunk at 75 in a 65 only to do a kissmeass pass on the RIGHT at an exit and then a suicide run to the far left - WTH? I almost had me some trucker stew for breakfast. Yes - all that gear shifting and fitting 80 thousand pounds where no rig should go all to be ONE CAR ahead of me at the light. Oh Tam is ever so pissed. When he turned in to a local place of prior employment (I worked in truck repair shops for about ten years or so...) that is on my way to spawn drop off in the am...man I felt like I was driving a giant ford MAGNET....can you imagine? Tam the ever prim and proper hurtling her aging hindparts across traffic to stalk and maim some assinine road lobotomized scum sucker of a truck driver? Yeah. We all have our breaking points. Being passed on the right going ten over the limit in rush hour traffic by something bigger and stupider than me? Consider me broken.

So I'm drivin along prying my canines out of the steering wheel and explaining to the bipedal passengers in my back seat that although my language was inappropriate for them it was vital to my remaining coherent - who do we happen to see strolling down the walk but Cruella DeVilles understudy side by side with the female equivalent of Sideshow Bob....praise God all I have to worry about is whether or not Fred's boxers don't show over his khakis...Good Lord. All of this of course set to "Cupid's Chokehold" sampling Supertramp's Girlfriend....take a look at my girl friend...she's the only one I got. Not much of a girl friend. Never seem to get a lot.

And some of my fam questions my sanity.....

Anyway. I am hopeful that the plethora of paper produced by my pending possibilities of publication is finished for the moment. I've edited. I've synopsized. I've excreted a bio. I've made a list of 'focus words....' yeah. I plan to pause for a day before delving into project number two...then there's three and four to consider. But right now, Tam's tired. I miss my blogfriends. I miss watching Ugly Betty. I miss staring blankly out the window at the blue day...I miss the real Supertramp. I miss those days when music was original and not redone sampled, drumtracked fluff....I miss having only one chin....

Peace.

Perhaps we seek the cataclysmic moments - the bone jarring, gear grinding, butt clenching seismic activity to hurtle our comatose bodies and brains into action. Yet real change is often subtle. Quiet. Reverent. Like the lifting of a veil. Like a sunrise.

I refrain from details when ranting about my day job. Yes, I used to blab incessently - dropping names and events like sand pouring from your beach blanket. A quick shake and an expletive. Hoping the cold water of anger would remove the tiny stones from orifices where no stones should lodge. (in the vulgate - jobs are often multiple tiny pains in our hindparts) But I no longer foray into bossblasting - out of respect for those who provide pay so that I may put food in my family's mouths.

But for the moment. I go there. To that job which as of late has been more of a daily scourging. I was so blind from the effort of setting my teeth together - I never saw the subtle change. A single sentence during a serious business transaction - which if gone awry - would temporarily tank the company..."Your boss says you're the bomb...." Imagine that. And the colors are returning to my sky gently....

I admittedly have patience issues - and in the wasteland of the novelwannabe - a hair trigger mindset is counterproductive. I'm on a sharp learning curve. So I developed a plan for that too. I submitted a second project. And this weekend. Tam's vault of poetic horrors gets a visit, a dust off and a few tosses into the pool of publication wishing wells. Eventually - responses will come...

Thank you for your kind words. All of you. I will pay some visits this weekend - some of you - I am seriously going through withdrawal because i have not had time or mental accuity to read you - and I hate to skim a friend...But I'll be checking in.

(taps on glass.....its getting better....sneaking off the page whistling a Beatles tune....)

But before I go - a poem from yesterday.

Validation is gunsmoke

Wafting round my head

Wispy tendrils encircling songbird throats

Silence cries no aria

Shattered shotgun shell dreams

Drop staccato from the skies

Tears welling in eyes long blind

To the possibility of pardon

Condemnation a crown for the common man

Final wishes kiss the wind

Let me abdicate this throne

Of my demise

Tenuous thoughts trip skittering

Timid fingers mirror the mind

Insanity for the defendant

Criminal intent the stroke of passion

Caught in gall, on vellum, from pain

Resurrection offers only

Repetitive fire

TL Boehm

020107

PS - this poem has absolutely nothing to do with suicide....and everything to do with lamenting over dreams.

Ok so how come Fiona is the only female ogre on the map? What all of us ogrefied chicas got only one green and corpulent role model who sounds like Cameron Diaz to follow. Lemme tell you I do not EVER resemble Cameron Diaz...by any stretch of ones twisted and plaque filled imagination.

Yeah I'm beyond banshee today - I am the ogress according to my ever so loving and gentle family. DO they ask WHY I want to eat small bunnies and scratch myself? No - they just name call and throw their ever enlarging shoes and socks in my general direction. They leave papers on the table and weeds in the yard  and I won't even go into what I find in the bathroom left for me...chingao but its nasty.

Today my coworker is on vacation - we have a Department of Labor Telehearing - Only God knows if we are prepared (see once apon a time I had a big boss and a slightly smaller boss and the big boss let the little boss go so the little boss is being a vindictive mutha and suing even though he stole stuff and so it goes) and every time my coworker is gone the big boss asks me for stuff that he should and could ask her for - I truly dread my job - and besides. Some stirrings are happening. Some ancient novel like stirrings are bubbling and brewing in my jiggly brain. Some scenes....some dialogue. Yes. And its a day from hell because I will have no time to get into anything. (Tam curses under her breath...adjusts her yak skin shawl...pounds her club on the ground.) But I am supposed to be the loving and giving princess of the abode. Hey when you live under a bridge - you don't get many princesses coming around.

So I am off to hell with plexiglass - that's the problem with writing anything longer than three pages. My brain wants to continue and life does not allow the time....so the subconcious tries to minimize the angst by saying sh*t like 'who'd read it anyway....uh....

I'm not a tease. I don't post my novel here because - well my target will be teens, not adults. See I reeallly want to publish - so I picked a genre and a market that I am hoping will be easier to break into. Not that I am JK Rowling - but teen fiction is more open than adult fiction. SO.

I welcome back Da Monk to the page - he has been MIA since what, March? Good to see you again. Peace and nacho cheese! I also welcome Raenie to the page. I hope as always that you smile when you visit...

Peace (Tam shuffles off page picking stickers from her scaly ogre feet...)