There are those redemptive moments when the daily vortex slows to a gentle eddy allowing one to drag oneself up onto a quiet beach and contemplate the beauty of the rushing river before being sucked back down the rapids - pummeled by the rocks of reality as we know it.

Eric chose a fete at a local Archery shop - allowing us the freedom provided to the clan of Chuck E Cheese refugees. A gold star moment in itself even more magnified by the simple fact that four boys accepted the invitation for this evening. And Eric - ever the wallflower even shot the velociraptor in the eye; bursting the green balloon brain and saving his friend from possible status as 'dino dessert'. Even the boy who's eye Eric blackened with his head recently was in attendance. Yes, there is a God and He smiled on the fam this evening.

I sit here steeped in 'schedulers remorse'. As with many random ideas emanating from my dimly lit cortex I assumed changing my blogging time would benefit me and my darling bipedal males but suffice it to say Tamster is even more angst filled and twitchy. Sure the pot of beans I prepared while comatose were tasty - but the book remains unread, the exercise tape still lies entombed in a coating of desert dust and my brain quivers with interrupted thoughts and tender ideas parched in the heat of a day in the life. I really do my best work in the morning before I am repeatedly slapped by the mundane, the profane, and the terminally insane. (all of which reside between my ears I suppose) And of course there are the clamoring suckers of my life force to consider - those heathens I birthed and that dreaded question....'can I go on line?' *sighs* I already caught them in their huddle earlier -planning the moments of my day like a microwaved meal...tough. Rubbery. Unpalatable. But perhaps mercifully quick....

I had another thought but the time flies and my lids droop along with my chin and my uh....navel....I'll save it for tomorrow; but before I go I promised a shout out to a fellow blogger from whom I inadvertantly lifted the phrase 'brain droppings' yesterday. It did seem familiar when I used it....I thought it might be the title of a book....well I was close. Alex :P is quite the blogger. Go shout out to him. And be nice....Peace.

So you were totally unaware of *Alfred E Newman's dorky twin sister? They sold her to a family in Kansas in the 60's but we've unearthed in Tam's vault of horrors a rare picture...Tammy Circa 75. (Check the do' and you wonder why I seek blogtherapy about my Momzilla. She did that to me.)

This morning I awakened at dawn...the morning light sifting soft and mauve through lace curtains - familiar scents drifting through the air as the gentle whir of machinery heralded virtual life springing from my PC....that punguent aroma....could it be...CAT POOP UNDER MY COMPUTER CHAIR....

And so my friends the gentle poetic soul runs SCREAMING from my psyche and I am left with toxic fallout. The poetic thread:

She glides across the ice

Circling sparkles

Skates shush across the floor

Shimmering spray

Lights that play

Lithe dancer aloft she spins and soars

Gentle hips swing in the crystalline breeze

Pirohuettes descend

Tattooing lines

Etching ice pristine

Canvas clean

Sacred movement

Soul designs

This life is a fragile dancer

Clad in fluttering sunset hue

The rushing blood of a sweet romancer

A flood of colors in twilight blue

Becomes this:

It’s a damn good day for a razorblade
A good day for a loaded gun

Loose the lies, the smoke the masquerade

Truth is I’ve come undone

Crawlin’ in on my belly again

Rollin’ over for anyone

Bracin’ myself for the kicks you send

Loose the knot in the web I’ve spun

Fall in to my fatal destiny

This accidental life that’s me

The ladder snaps before I’ve begun

From the weight of a loaded gun

Do you see what I'm up against? This monster in my head? So I'm thinkin' its time to switch from coffee to beer, put on the PINK CD and dance my butt off because I cannot face another moment of tears and torment. I do my best. I cry in the shower. I cry on the way to work when I'm alone in the car...I go to bed and I scream into my pillow....and then I get up and I do what must be done because I am a member of the human race. I don't blame God...but why? Why did I grow up to become Alfred E Newman's ugly sister - when in my heart I wanted a song...a gentle voice....and beauty that blessed the beholder. I will never understand and most days I put my muse on ignore but sometimes....sometimes....I wish....clicking heels together.....

Peace.

*Alfred E Newman is the red haired freckled cartoon face on the Mad Magazines....

Ah my child - its a good thing he isn't a blogger. The small and irritating spawn is at work with me because he has a half day....oh the joy of public education. Good thing I read the sign out front or he'd be at school....waiting with his bro' to whom we gave a mobile phone so we could call and say things like "do not walk from your school to your brother's school to pick up your psychotic irritating small bro - because he will not be there....does the big twitterpated teen listen to his messages? no. I finally get him to answer said phone and he is at eric's school wondering why the building is dark and there are no sticky people waitig outside...HAVE THEY LOST THEIR MINDS...Oh I need a beer and a hot tub...and Bjorn with some tequila and limes.

The above picture is the small one - bleary eyed and partially glued to the computer. peace

Ah my child - its a good thing he isn't a blogger. The small and irritating spawn is at work with me because he has a half day....oh the joy of public education. Good thing I read the sign out front or he'd be at school....waiting with his bro' to whom we gave a mobile phone so we could call and say things like "do not walk from your school to your brother's school to pick up your psychotic irritating small bro - because he will not be there....does the big twitterpated teen listen to his messages? no. I finally get him to answer said phone and he is at eric's school wondering why the building is dark and there are no sticky people waitig outside...HAVE THEY LOST THEIR MINDS...Oh I need a beer and a hot tub...and Bjorn with some tequila and limes.

The above picture is the small one - bleary eyed and partially glued to the computer. peace

I've made a decision. (oh god) no really. I've decided to shut down my page. Its been real and its been fun but it isn't really fun any more and why torment myself - right?

PSYCHE!

ok so. For those of you who actually like me - and now you feel a little sad - please tell me who you are so I can feel loved - and if you are still reading - I am shutting down my ALTER EGO page - GOTCHA. Or at least I hope I gotcha. Maybe I didn't - if you really know me - you knew I was faking...

So - I have this alternate poetry page http://360.yahoo.com/lyricotomy  when I set it up I did so because I thought it would be cool to post poetry only and those of you who like poetry could read over there...(actually I set it up back in April when people were losing blogs righ and left....) thing is - the last three posts I've posted....have been ignored like a poop in a park. So either I suck...(could be that I suck) or maybe because I don't comment from lyricotomy and I pretty much comment from Jus' Tammy - people forget. But for me...I guess I'd rather post stupid sh*tty poems over here on my real page because its as much of who I am as the random ranting and peeing and moaning I do. So I'm going back to one page on 360. Well ok - two pages. http://360.yahoo.com/sacred_songspace  is an open venue for poets, writers and lurkers to come and be inspired in a non threatening way.....lol....

I am seriously considering selling my summer home on multiply. I don't get many commenters or visitors and I am a creature who loves contact so why torment myself...right? So it may be next. We'll see.

anyway - I am only closing my Lyricotomy page. Jus' Tammy is going nowhere (profound statement) and I am moving all my crappy poems over here for your viewing displeasure. A few at a time so you don't choke. lol.

Peace.

Yes - the pic is me about a year or so ago...yes - I'm a bit chunky. I like food, I hate exercise, I come from white bred farm stock....its just how I am...but it does keep me from posting pics of myself all over my blog.

Today just didn't end well. I'm sitting here because my mind is racing and my heart is broken and I have no one....no one to lament to. So the cyberwasteland gets another toxic blog.

I don't know where man came up with the inane idea that woman should do all the cleaning and carry a full time job whilst the males scratch and sniff and belch - but I refuse to go down quietly. They (the TPBs) have so many plans this weekend I am not even sure if I know all the details but we have church, a concert and two barbecues - some shopping and haircuts and who knows what else...oh yes...sleepovers. So I asked for help - domestic help in the form of pushing a broom, a mop and a vacuum. And I got a throw down rant on shit on scream fest of the nastiest kind. My young spawn in a fit of rage came out into the kitchen, bleary eyed and lockjawed, put his small hands around my throat and tried to choke me because he said..."I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU MOM." Yes, I almost flattened him. You see - I grew up with that shit. I won't tolerate it now. Not even in jest and guess what, no one was laughing. So I am trying to remain calm as my husband tells me its my fault we have to get rid of the lizard because I am not patient when he comes out and its my fault because I can't just ask the boy without yelling - tell me - honestly - do "please and thank you and kissy wissy flower petal throwing work on YOUR boy?" If they do - I want the meds you are crumbling up in the spaghetti sauce cus mine don't even hear under a certain decibel. So then I hear the boy in the room again with the hateration and he comes out and tells me "if I would apologise and say please and thank you - he will give me my keys" To which I ever so politely tell him he threatened me - I have never threatened him or wanted him dead and I am leaving (mom speak for gimme the damn keys you insolent vermin from hell.) I drove around the block...watched some lightening and then came home. I have groveled and peed down my leg and the son is sleeping after telling me how he wants to cut himself and his nose bled and he is still on the "please" jag and my husband is reading some damn inspirational book in the bedroom but will any of them even put their arms out to me? HELL NO. Even after I say - all I ever wanted was a little help and for you to hug me and tell me you don't hate me. And I get choked for two pairs of shoes and a three by six area of floor. So I am done. If the husband likes to step over shit - there will be lots of it because I only have one finger I am even thinking of raising for awhile. He can tell the ungrateful demonseed to clean up - or he can etchasketch a mural in the dust that will inevitably build up - I am done. Some things are black and white - hands around my neck - even small hands - that's a crossed line. And I can't throw it into reverse. I'm done.

On a lighter note, I suppose I will sneak on and visit tomorrow, cuz writing wonderful poems ain't gonna happen. Why does it have to be like this? Why does my own child seethe with hatred - I know hatred when I see it. I saw it in my moms eyes....now his...sometimes I just wish I could get a case of Corona and a bottle a JOSE and make it all go away for a while...but inevitably I would sober up....and I'd probably puke from mixing beer and tequila...maybe blogging in the middle of the night will have to suffice.

In the picture...thats the perp with pups. He's not throttling the cowlike canine...he's holding her face up for a portrait. He's very gentle with things he loves...and people he loves...