It's That Time Again!!!

I have some GREAT excuses for why I've not been blogging:

1. I'm teaching three subjects (by my choice -- what was I thinking!?!?!?) and never have time to blog.

2. I have nothing to say.

3. It's getting close to Rogue Time again.

4. I've become a Facebook Whore.

Okay -- two of those are true....

But being a ho is still illegal -- so let's go with Rogue 2010....

Breathing

Surely it isn’t possible to have mistaken
heroin for oxygen?
Someone as intelligent as I
Could not be trapped by
Such an obvious slight
-of-hand…Breathe in, breathe in,

::sigh::

Of course! It is not possible to have mistaken
heroin for oxygen.
These ideas and dreams that have sprung to life
-this absence of strife
-this abundance of goodness…
A deadly addiction!?!?
Don’t be asinine. Breathe in, breathe in.

::sigh::

Surely it is not possible that I have mistaken
heroin for oxygen.
The skin I’m in
is healthy; wallet still wealthy
If this were drugs of a
dangerous faire,
(As opposed to simply normal air),
wouldn’t I cease to even care
about the state or fate of either?
Breathe in, breathe in

::sigh::

This cannot be!! It is impossible to have mistaken
Heroin for oxygen!
…but I’m getting no satisfaction from the air
As it tears through my veins…
…and I’m in constant anticipation
Of my next inhalation…
-which never seems to have the depth
of my previous breath.
Breathe in, breathe in

::sigh::

Surely….it isn’t possible….

::sigh::

Have I mistaken
heroin for oxygen?

One Night in Bangkok - er, make that Copenhagen

One night in Bangkok and the girls...

wait -- wrong country.

Wonderful, wonderful, Copenhagen...

I have just returned from Sweden and Denmark! The primary purpose was to attend my friends, Steven and Kajsa's wedding. --Which was fabulous!

But as usual, there was a secondary purpose -- HAVE FUN!!!!

First stop was Tivoli Gardens - the second oldest amusement park in the world. As I was strolling ('cause that's what you do whilst in Denmark - stroll), I was suddenly confronted by a little boy with HUGE Bambi eyes crying, "Pappa! Pappa!" Everyone else around was either ignoring or overreacting, so I knelt down, took his hands and started talking to him. Within a minute "Pappa" came around the corner (he was waiting on the wrong side of the ride for his son to exit). Bambi wouldn't let go of my hand. Hot Pappa thanked me, and asked me if I'd like to join them for a bite. Yes, yes, I was hoping Hot Pappa wanted me to bite him, or vice-versa...
-no such luck
-alas, Hot Pappa was actually Hot Widower Pappa -- of six months. Over the course of the next hour (eating and strolling), I realized that he was unavailable.
Not like that's new for me, eh? I am constantly attracted to unavailable men...

I bid Hot Pappa and Bambi, "Farvel" (goodbye).

I happened to be in Copenhagen during the Jazz Festival, so there was amazing music to be heard everywhere. As I headed (dejectedly) towards my hotel, my ears were enticed by the music coming from a corner bar. "Why not?" I propositioned myself. Hey -- no one else was, so I might as well pick myself up. I pulled up my big-girl-panties (figuratively, of course), headed in and took a seat.
The waiter mistook me for a local (happened more than once), and asked for my order in Danish. "Oh, I'm sorry, I'm American, and only speak English."
"An American!" erupted the table behind me.
Preparing to bolt, and murmuring apologies, I began to rise -- until The Travelers (their name for themselves) explained that they had been collecting countries (!!!), and had yet to find an American for their group.
I became their American. We stayed there for a few hours, until the waiter told us we should head on down to an Irish Pub a few blocks away.
Irish pub + The Travelers + alcohol = Irish Drinking Songs gone wild.

One clothing change (hey, I was still in amusement park attire) and freshenup later, and we found ourselves with steins and voices raised.

I don't remember HIM walking in -- or HIM joining our group. But suddenly, I was aware of HIM. This hot guy sitting next to me, singing Irish songs, accidentally (not) bumping me, and talking to me:
"Excuse me, but - did you know - your eyes -- your eyes are the color of the Italian sky?"

Pull my hair, throw me on the floor-what happens in Copenhagen stays in Copen-

"Sorry? Are you talking to me?"

He repeated the analogy -- and by then I was a puddle of goo.

I was trying to get control of the goo, drag McHottie out of there by his hair, when I heard this soft voice in my other ear:

"Hello."

"Oh, APj - I want you to meet my wife. How would you like to come home with us?"

"Oh.....Oh my. Ummmm....thanks......but.....um......no thanks. I kinda like veggies...not so crazy about....the....fruit"

Yup - I left. Alone. What happens in Copenhagen -- happened without me.

Just another reason why....

Approximately 10 (or so) years ago, a baby Great Horned Owl fell from a nest on my property. We (the neighbors, my ex, and I) were unable to get her back in the nest - Mom and Dad were going nuts, and we were frantic trying to figure out a plan. We called "the bird lady" up in the foothills, who came down and took our baby home to nurse back to health. A few months later, she brought her back to release.



And she stayed. Over the years, she and her mate have resided here. Oh sure, sometimes months would go by without me seeing them, or talking to them.
Yes -- I said talking -- and no, I'm not crazy.








My city (and some of my country) friends thought I was nuts when I told them that my owls talked to me. When I would arrive home late, they would call to me -- her voice pitched a bit higher than her mates. I would answer back, and they would hoot once more.

This year -- they had babies. Three babies. And yes....the babies talk to me. Well, screech actually (as they don't hoot yet). I can walk right up to the tree, and they all stay. The other night, I was out talking to one of the babies, and the other two flew over to join baby huey (that's what I call the roundest one --the one that the stupid bluejays pick on the most).

I think I'm a good apple

This came in my email this morning:

Apples and Wine

Women are like apples on trees. The best ones are at the top of the tree. Most men don't want to reach for the good ones because they are afraid of falling and getting hurt. Instead, they sometimes take the apples from the ground that aren't as good, but easy. The apples at the top think something is wrong with them, when in reality, they're amazing. They just have to wait for the right man to come along, the one who is brave enough to climb all the way to the top of the tree.

Now men...
-Men are like a fine wine. They begin as grapes, and it's up to women to stomp the shit out of them until they turn into something acceptable to have dinner with.

Freeflying or Falling

I stand, toes dangling over the edge
feel air race up my thighs, close my eyes,
Damn –
I swear I hear the Wind beckon me, “Fly!”

“Ahhh...Wind,” I reply,
“Freefall is relatively painless
But that last foot? Done wrong can leave you brainless.”

But it’s safe here on the edge;
and with eyes closed and arms spread wide
it almost feels like a skydive
Wind beckons again, “Fly!”
So I lean into it
but damn

- I still remember
that painful last foot. Should have been fatal
though it wasn’t. Snapped a femur and filled a lung
but I guess I wasn’t done.
Brushed myself off, and raced to back to the edge.

Have I told you?
It’s safe here on the edge,
And with eyes closed and arms spread wide,
It almost feels like a skydive…
Wind beckons, “Come on, damn it! Fly!”
So I lean into it
but damn


- I still remember
that painful last foot.
It certainly felt fatal
but it wasn’t.
Shattered my confidence, splattered
my heart on the floor of the shower,
leaving me feeling power-
less
but nonetheless,
brushed myself off, and raced back to the edge.

Don’t you understand?
It’s so damn safe here on the edge,
Eyes clamped shut and fists raised wide
It almost feels like a skydive
Wind beckons, “You have got to fly!
Just let go and try,
And besides
You know what they say about the third time…”

So I lean into it,
but damn-

-how do a I know which three
it will be:
a strike or a charm?
Happiness or harm?

So, do you see now?
Do you see why I perch here on the edge?

Because it’s safe.

And it almost feels like a skydive.


If only the Wind would stop beckoning me, “Fly!”

A Few of My Favorite Smells

Somehow, it all fits. I am nasally-oriented.

When I was three, I put a string of glass beads (Christmas decorations) up my nose. Just because they were pretty.

Shortly thereafter, I informed my brother, Satan, that I could fit three pussywillows up my nose. He dared me to try for four.
Yup -- I could.

Middle School found me hating boogers -- mainly because they made it so hard to breathe. In the midst of a horrible cold, I thought that if I kept blowing my nose, the snot would not stay. Blow, blow, blow.
bam! The busted artery story.

It's still all about my nose...

I love smells......

1. Orange blossoms
2. Vanilla
3. Lavender
4. Chocolate
5. Clean Sheets
6. Eucalyptus Tree
7. Grass (as in lawn)
8. Ginger
9. Gasoline (I don't get this either....I maybe be a secret huffer or something)
10. Man

Well....I may need to work on the order here....

I must have pissed of an Ent. Seriously. I don't know how. I don't know when -- but at sometime I must have.

I love trees. Some of you read this Ode to the Leaf. My love of leaves is obvious -- as (should be) my love of where they come from.

And yet -- they're out to get me. THIS IS NOT PARANOIA.

Remember this incident? How many 100 ft Acacia trees are there in San Francisco? But the one with wobbly footing decides to crush my car....

And then this morning.....I walk out to the garage this morning.
::crap::
I forgot to put the car in the garage! It'll be covered in dewy stuff and all....I might need to wash it--
::vvrrrooommmm:: (that's the noise the garage door makes)
::crap::
Wow! Those leaves and that branch sure look low -- they're almost
::crap::
I think the tree fell on my car. Again.



So.....I walk around to the other side.....


::sigh of relief:::







It seems to have missed the car. But I've got to go to work!!! Can I get the car out of the driveway? Pull forward. Turn. Back up, turn wheel tight. ::crap:: is that a scrapy noise? Pull forward, turn again. Back up, s-l-o-w-l-y, turning wheel t-i-g-h-t-l-y. ::crap:: Don't fall into the drainage hole on the left side.
::sigh:: I think I'm clear.





HOLY COW!!! I made it around that!?!?!?!?


Damn.....I'm good.





Anybody up for a chainsaw party?

A Teaching Moment

In addition to teaching 7th grade Language Arts, I also teach a Reading Intervention class - targeted at students who are reading 2+ years below their reading level. Most of these students have struggled with reading since 1st grade, and reading has never been something they enjoyed.
I try to change that.
I show them strategies to use while they are reading that help them retain the information. And we try to have fun.
This is one of my favorites
At the end of each chapter, I ask the students to write down 2-3 favorite lines from the chapter. They might like the figurative language - they might have a personal connection - whatever.
**I DO NOT TELL THEM WHY WE ARE COLLECTING THEM**

When we finish the novel, they cut out their sentences, select a few, and put them in a different sequence to create:

FOUND POETRY
Here is my example from the novel, "The Music of Dolphins," by Karen Hesse.
Note: This novel is written at a 5th grade level, but is 7-8th grade interest. It is written in a journal form, and reminds me a lot of "Flowers for Algernon."

I watch the red sun set into a choppy sea
I am on this beach of grass with no ocean, with no quiet, with no clean air to breathe.
Waves whisper onto the beach, sucking at my heels and my toes.
I must get back to the sea.
In the sea there are no locks or switches, no doors or walls.
I can leave my human thought on the beach
I swim out to them on the murmuring sea
-like the wings of the ray flying through the slow green water
What we are doing will not fade like a sunset.

Bambi - The Book, not the Disney Movie

This is my favorite chapter from the novel, Bambi. No Bambi, no Thumper, no Faline, no Karus. In fact, the characters don't even have names! But this chapter affected me then, as it still does today. I recently read this chapter to my students, who loved it (of course). I then thought I should share it with you. So, naturally, I had to make a little video to go with my reading...





Since reading this book (I believe I was around 10), I have never looked at leaves as "plain." I don't crunch them when I walk, I don't jump in them, and sometimes...sometimes I tell them they're beautiful....

Who's Your Mama?

So...sometime in March, I got a call from my friend Kate. "APJ, I've got a show for you."
these can sometimes be dangerous words...especially from Kate.

"What kinda show?"

"Well, Gilmour Floyd is doing a show at the Tower Theatre on April 11th. They're going to be recreating scenes from the Pink Floyd movie. And...and...and....well.....would you play "The Mom"?

Granted, I think I was in college the last time I saw the movie -- but I remember her as being...kinda scary.
"Sure, Kate! Sounds fun! What will I have to do?"

"Great, APJ! Don't worry. Becky will do everything.
Step #1. Becky got rid of my hair -- put it all in pincurls on top of my head. Ouch...but only a little.

Note: I thought this would be worth the pain -- that I would have beautiful curly locks the next morning. Nope -- frizzy and kinky....
- um -
Not "that" kind of kinky...




Step #2. Put do-rag on head, and loadup on the blue eye-doo.

Note: I don't know why Becky is making this face -- SHE did my face. Oh...maybe she's realizing I don't have my hair on yet.





Step #3 Hair and Costume time. 'nuff said.









Step #4. Go find my cute son. Who seems to be...quite fond of...my bodacious ta-tas.
Ermm.....obviously, breastfeeding him for five years may have been a mistake.









Step #5. Pose with everybody else. Everybody else who was able to get ready in, like five minutes. Me? 90 minutes. But, personally? I think I look FAB - U - LOUS!!

I like dreaming....

Some of you remember my friend, Steve from this exchange. He and his much-better-half now reside in Sweden, and are planning their nuptials for this summer.
-yes, yes, they do everything backwards: child, move followed by a wedding, instead of wedding, move, and then child. A beautiful child, Anja, by the way, whom, you may recall, knows her Auntie Jayne quite well

I plan on traveling to Sweden this summer, and the trip has been on my mind, and, obviously, in my dreams, as can be seen in this email I thought I'd share with ya'll....

Dearest Steve and Kajsa,

So, I had this great dream. I'm at your wedding/moving party

- Yes, yes, you're moving
-What? I don't know!!?!?!? You just are--
--hey that's not important- remember, it's MY dream


I'm sitting at the end of the table with Anja on my left, when these two hot guys jostle each other for the seat on my right.
and here's the cool thing-

I knew they were both hot for me.

Yup. In my dreamworld, I am not sextarded.

::dances around the room::
uh-huh, uh-huh,

love, the sofrickinghot APj

ps #1 name was Michael, so he's out. Didn't catch #2's name, but he had a chest like a sailor. Perhaps he's with the.... SWEDISH NAVY!?!?

APj Smackdown

Sometimes I forget that I'm a 48 year-old woman.
Not necessarily a BAD thing -- for example, if I were on a date with a hot 32 year-old, and he made me forget that I was 48 -- GOOD THING.
Brawling with thugs? Not a GOOD THING.


We had finished striking all the Rogue sets and lights, and were heading for Rogue Storage. I saw something fly through the air and hit the brickwall of a store. My sister thought it was a skateboard, kicked by one of the two teenagers walking on the sidewalk.
It. was. not. a. skateboard.
It. was. a. puppy.

I made a face, and that is probably where the incident would have ended.

-except-

One of the teens squared up on the cowering puppy, kicked and started swinging.

And APj metamorphosed into The Hulk.

Brakes and tires squealing, I threw my seatbelt off, and leaped from the car,
"Motherf#c!ker! Touch that dog one more time, and I'll kick the sh!t out of you!"

He stopped swinging at the dog -
GOOD THING.
And started walking towards me
BAD THING
saying, "You dint see nothin' b!t#h! You dint see nothin' "

By this time, he and his friend are right in front of me -- and I'm realizing that he is at least 4 inches taller than me --
--but hey -- I'm a whole hell-of-a-lot crazier than him -- so I walk right up to him, jab him in the chest and retort, "Yeah? I saw the whole thing, a##ho!e! You don't --"

At this point, he and his ugly thug friend started backing away, with a "whatcha gonna do, b!tch? whatcha gonna do?"

"What am I gonna do?" I pulled out my cellphone, "This, A##ho!e!" and dialed 9-1-1.

Yes, yes, I know - I should have taken a picture with my cellphone. Damn adrenaline. And yes, yes, I realize (in hindsight), that this was not the smartest move I've ever made.

But I'd do it again. Yup. I'm crazy that way.

2009 Rogue

We Rogued hard, and put 'em away wet.
-or something like that.

Here's a few pictures that I stole (mostly from Lecram) to share with you.

I'll be writing more about my Mann-I-Can over the weekend.

Practicing My Rogue Show!

Dear Bloggers,
I would like to introduce you to my partner in my new Rogue Show: this is DJ. DJ is helping me create my Man-I-Can for my show. The first week at my house, he hung around nekkid. Nekkid, because I don't have any man clothes at my house anymore!
I can hear you! You're thinking, "Is he anatomically correct?" The short answer is - No. No, but -
Um....he doesn't "dent in" like Ken (the Barbie Ken) did -
-Can I just say I think Ken messed me up for years?
- But there's no......umm......parts. More like a .....codpiece. Interesting.
He kinda freaked me out the first night. Okay, he really freaked me out - I kept forgetting he was there, and I'd come around the counter, and, "Oh shit! There's a nekkid man in my dining ro - oh, it's only my mannequin."
This happened three or four times that evening, before I finally crawled into bed,with my brain musing, "wouldn't it be funny if he was standing somewhere else when you woke up?"

I replied, "NO, Brain!!!!! No, that wouldn't be funny!!!!!"

But once the thought was planted, it grew at warp speed in APj's fertile nightmare brain. "Oh, I know: what if you get up to go to the bathroom and he's at the end of the hall.....and when you come out of the bathroom his arms have switched positions.....and then when you roll over in bed you can see him in the doorway....and then, and then, and then."
Shit.
I had to get out of bed, go to the kitchen, take his arms off and place them on the counter.

"Well, "warned my brain, "he can still hurt you."

"No he can't," I retorted, "he doesn't even have a peni"

"That doesn't matter!" my brain replied, "he can headbutt you to death!"

"Fine!" I whispered through clenched teeth, "I'll just remove his torso, and place it over here on the table! How's that, brain? Can we go to sleep yet?"

"No."

"No? Why?"

"Because, because his lower half could still walk into the bedroom and att-"

"HE DOESN'T HAVE A PENI-"

"SO!!!!! He could strangle you with his plastic thighs! And he'd be so pissed you took him apart-"

"Fine! I've got this!" I reply, as I turn his lower half so that it's facing the counter, "everyone knows a mannequin can't back up."

"They can't?" questions Brain.

"No," I responded confidently, "I saw it on Dr. Who."

DJ and I are working on our show, which opens in (crap!) 10 days. He keeps losing his hand, or trying to upstage me. I'll try to post more stories and pictures over the next few days.

So it is written, so let it be done....

Crap. I guess I'd better finish the last few bits.....

Today, I am celebrating saying, "Yes"

DA COUNT!
I have a hard time saying, "No."
Some of my friends would disagree with that statement, but it's true. If you ask me, I'll probably say yes.
Please note: ask. Not beat around a bush, not accidentally imply, just ask.

::sigh:: I think I'm going off on a tangent - a tangent I don't want to deal with right now.

Because today, I'm counting...and celebrating..... "Yes."

"APj, would you like some coffee?"
"Yes."




"Apj, would you put a tiara on your head, a feather boa around your neck, and a cardboard box 'car' around you and race it around the gym for the rally?"
"Yes"







"APj, would you please help me with my taxes?"
"Yes."




"APj, would you put this air-filled Sumowrestler costume on and wrestle one of the wrestlers that won the City championship?"
"Yes."














See? Just ask me.....


"Apj, can I pull your hair?"

Tag. It's not a game for children...

So, I got tagged over on my Facebook. Actually, I got tackled - like four people at once. Ouch. Not wanting to be a spoil-sport, I played. Once you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. I did it, but thought I'd put it up here too!

::sigh:: I always hated tag - all that chasey-chasey wore me out!

wait - that's a good one - let's start there:

1. Don't make me chase you - it's just gonna make me mad when I catch you. Plus you'll have to wait while I catch my breath.
2. I am very aware of breath. If yours is bad, I'm not interested.
3. I don't like my food touching. Yes, I know that most of you know that already. But it is very random. And it is me. At least I'm not one of those OCD people who eat all of one food before they start on the next.
4. I don't mind people with food issues. It takes the attention off of my issues.
5. I have potty issues in my dreams. Often, in my dreams, my toilet is viewable to the world. Which makes want to hide.
6. Sometimes, when I'm hiding in the closet in my dreams, I find really cool rooms that I wish were real. One time I found an entire apartment. Another time I found a really cool bathroom. But it didn't have a toilet.
7. Two of my friends bought me lunch trays so I don't have to worry about my food touching. I love my friends.
8. I have a song written about me.
9. I have a song written about my horse.
10. That line about having a song to sing all over this land? That's just stupid.
11. I moved to California when I was 19 because I had a wild hair up my @#!. Getting waxed would probably have been less painful.
12. Pain is not always a bad thing.
13. I removed the stitches/staples from my hip because the toysRus doctor was too wimpy.
14. I almost shot my refrigerator one night because I thought there was a burglar in the kitchen. Ask me sometime -- it really was funny. Not at-the-moment-funny -- but later-that-week-funny.
15. People think that I am stronger than I think I am. Actually, you could put a whole lot of different adjectives there....
16. I see nothing wrong with my shallowness. Hey, it worked for Hal, didn't it?
17. Vanilla wafers and cream cheese frosting. Yum.
18. I have really hot-looking friends. Which sometimes makes me a little insecure. Until I remember that I'm shallow - not insecure.
19. It is 16 steps from my front yard to the front door.
20. I love it when my friends pick out people for me to date because I suck at picking them out for myself.
21. I probably suck at #20 because I am shallow.
22. I think there is one plant in the middle of Iowa that makes tuna and cat food. It's just different labels on the can.
23. I love that the Rogue adopted me. They have been very good to me. (Big shout-out to the #1 "Rogue Has-bean") :)
24. I am very excited about a trip I am planning for this summer.
25. I am still writing my Rogue show. ::sigh::

My Interview!

Lime graciously consented to interviewing me, and here are my responses:

1. Out of 6 interviewees there were only 2 women who volunteered, both are known Rogues. The interviewer is a Rogue wannabe. You have already penned and performed a one woman show and are working on this year's show. Pitch a show to me for next year involving you, Ms. Solitaire, and me. Umm....please see #5 below for the show.

2a. When you "go to the store" do you take a shopping list? No one appreciates an....impromptu trip to the store more than I. However, there is something to be said for....planning. I find when I write things down, or at least tell my "shopping partner" the things I really want or need, that it usually leads to....ummmm....shall we say....a more pleasant experience? Seriously, don't you just hate getting home and realizing you forgot to get the one thing you went to the store for anyway!?!?

2b. Paper or plastic? Paper!?!? Seriously, they come in paper!?!?!? Ewwww......that is just disgusting. And plastic....that is just so "ungreen." I'm thinking I'll forego paper and plastic, and stick with the real thing, thankyouverymuch.

2c. Is self checkout less of a hassle or do you feel like you should get some sort of "good customer discount" for handling things yourself?As I shared in last year's Rogue show and a previous post, there are many advantages to "self checkout." I certainly do feel that since I am doing all the....loading and arranging, not to mention pushing my own cart, I ought to get some kind of discount or upgrade. Hey! How about some kind of frequent shopper stamp or something -- you know, like after ten solo shopping trips I get a tandem one for free?

3. What do you think about when you are in free fall? Twenty+ years later, and this is still the question people want the answer to! About 30 (egads) years ago, Spider Robinson and his wife wrote a book, Stardance. The main character was a dancer - who was considered too large and heavy to be a dancer. So she started dancing in Space - freefall style. THAT'S what freefall was for me: dancing in air.

4. Give me a list of tunes we will dance to on our pole dancing/bus ride adventures?Our tunes need to cover a....variety of.....situations that may.....ahem.....arise... so I think we'll start the tour with "Sexyback" by Justin Timberlake, because we are bringing it back, damnit. I think next will be "Kiss" by Prince, 'cause it's just hot. This may, of course lead to "I kissed a Girl" by Katy Perry. Not that I'm planning on kissing any girls...but if we're whirling and twirling, it just may happen....which may (or may not) lead to "London Bridge" by Fergie for a finale.

5. An evil mastermind is going to destroy the world unless you can stop him. You are armed with a spoon, a rubber chicken, a can of aquanet, and a bucket of peanuts. What is your plan?
This is my 2010 Rogue Show, starring Apj, Lime and Solitaire. The evil Princess Solitaire has not only taken over the Rogue, but has her sights on the world as well. And if the world won't bow to her will.... But never fear! APj and Lime know of her rubber chicken and peanuts fetish (did she say "peanus"?) and are not afraid to throw peanuts her way (did she really say "peanus?")! And if all else fails, APj and Lime have the Spoon of Swoon, which always reduces the Princess to a puddle.

yes, yes, I know - I didn't use the Aquanet. Hey -- you gotta have something for the sequel, right?

Sex!?!?!?!?!? EWWWWWWW......

I remember the first time I met my ex-M.I.L. Voldemort was out when she stopped by, so I invited her in to wait.
"Voldemort has told me so much about you. How are you?"
"I'm fine, thanks. And you?"
"I'm so horny! I haven't had sex in a week. I swear I could have an orgas..."

::THUD:: (the sound of my jaw hitting the floor)

I don't remember most of the rest of the conversation - because all I could think was,
"Holyfrickingcow I can't believe this old woman is still even wanting to have sex! Did she just say 'oral'? Crap, I think she did. Crap; I think she expects me to say something. What should I say? All I could think was, 'Ew, lady, I would have thought your hoo-hoo would be retired by now!?!? I mean, come on, you're over 40 for cryingoutloud!!!'

Yup, at the wise age of 21, I thought someone over 40 having sex was - gross. I swear it made me throw up (a little) in my own mouth - yeah, that's gross too. But seriously, the thought of "this old woman" having oral--
::shudder::

Ahh.....the irony of it all -- to find myself "over-forty," and standing in front of an audience, and talking about: sex (or the lack of it).
kinda gross -- especially if there's 20-somethings in the crowd.
So, as to assuage the masses (okay, the small polite crowd would be a more accurate description of my Rogue audiences), I like refer to my....."encounters" using my most favorite euphemism:
GOING TO THE STORE

Some of you are familar with this expression. Heck, I think I may have at least run around the parking lot with one or two of you...and some of you I've taken to the store - even if it was just my imagination...running away with me....

::sigh::
As I've said in the past, shopping alone is not necessarily a bad thing: I don't have to hold my stomach in, or wear makeup. I don't have to shave my legs. I don't have to worry about how long we're going to be having se-- err, shopping, or how much sleep I really need. I don't have to have the "I told you the last time, don't push your...cart....down... that....lane" conversation.

Yes, yes, I know - we are not meant to...shop alone. And I do appreciate someone else being in charge of selecting the...fresh produce. And pushing the cart. But damn! There are so many things to be relearned -
-like how do you get from the parking lot to the store? I mean, do you make it look like an accident, or do you announce that you really want to go inside?
-or the art of pushing the cart. Fast? slow? Both sides of the aisle? Left to right, or right to left?
-maybe no cart at all - just a handbasket....
-not putting something heavy on top of the..."bread" - it just gets smooshed flat. Flat bread, no good.
-oh, and remembering to make sure "they" get what they wanted at the store. It is not, after all, all about my cookies. Oh, but should you crush my cookies, we.....will NOT be shopping together again.

All this store-talk has made me....hungry. I'm gonna go see what's on the....shelf.

**EDIT POST**
My ex-M.I.L. and I are no longer in contact, but she and my daughter are very close. I am happy (?) to say, she continues to talk about sex with 20-something year olds:

MIL: So, Erynn, do you have a boyfriend?
Erynn: No, Grandma.
MIL: Do you have a girlfriend?
Erynn: No, Grandma, I'm not a lesbian. I just don't have a boyfriend.
MIL: 'cause it would be okay if you were a lesbian. If I were 20 years younger, that Catherine Zeta-Jones is hot!
Erynn: Bye, Grandma....

DR. JONES!!!!!

Back in the Middle Ages, Matchmakers were employed to find....matches. With the advent of the Internet, finding your perfect match is...guaranteed!
Eharmony asks you a hundred questions and matches you with your ideal mate, who, according to them:

• lived in Alaska (3-month long night=good. 3-month long commute to work=bad)
  
• was thin as a rail (which makes me look even fatter, thank you)

Match-dot-com promised to find my "soul mate" within 6 months. They didn't, so I got 6 months free. The results? My "soul mate"

• was 28, lived at home, smoked, and worked fast food. ::sigh:: There will be a story about him - LATER. I promise......
  

After a few more dips into the online dating pool, I quit swimming. I ignored the flirts and such sent from the various sites. Until I received a message from....Indiana Jones.
Okay, okay, it wasn't from Harrison Ford -- but he was an archaeologist.

And there is just something about a man and his shovel....
::sigh::

yup - you betcha -- I went to the store. And after I saw his picture -- I fricking moved to the Costco parking lot!

Of course, I was sure the picture he sent was a lie - why would someone like THIS want to date me? More than likely, Dr. Jones was some lonely bald, toothless, pot-bellied mountain man from the hills of Deliverance.....

"It's not that I don't believe it's you in the pictures - it's just that I
...well, I don't believe it's you. I mean, come on! You're gorg- -huh? You're sending a video clip?"

So the video arrived -- not "that" kind of video.
darn! drat!

-No, just a video tour of the University....and his office.....culminating with a shot of him, saying his name, calling me by my name....
so that I knew it was the same "him" from the pictures, and that "he" knew that he was talking to "me"....sorta electronic proof, right?

So, I responded as quickly as my fingers could type:

"Dr. Jones. Thank you for the lovely tour of your office at the University. I now believe that it is really you that I am conversing with. However, I feel I must inform you that even though I am a single, middle-aged/overweight woman, I am neither desperate or stupid. If you're intentions involve a green card or my bank account-
-what? You're not interested in either? What? You think I'm sexy, talented, beautiful and funny? Would you mind pulling my hair while you say that?"

With English being his second language, explaining the phrase "Pulling my hair" took as much explaining as my "going to the store" analogy....but after a few....keystrokes.....he.....got the picture.
Oh....Dr. Jones! You're a bad man, Dr. Jones (but in a good way!)

Oh, I forgot that part, didn't I? I forgot to tell you where this absolutely perfect man lives, yes? In the typical APj tradition of being attracted to unavailable men, Dr. Jones is unavailable - "geographically" ....unavailable. Dr. Jones....resides in......Turkey.

Fearless #5. Or - Time wasters that keep me from writing my show

Your Spiritual Number is Five

You bring adventure and change to people's lives. Which is all fine and dandy, until they are faced with "Plan B." You are willing to challenge your friends and push them to grow. Growth Plan B: Shove friend out of a perfectly good airplane. Right now, your life is about figuring out where to direct your energy. I KNOW where my energy SHOULD be directed: I SHOULD be writing my Rogue Show, not finding out what my frickin' Spiritual Number is. I mean, what the frick is a "Spiritual Number" anyway!?!?!? If you're not careful, you can become too unreliable or flighty. Frick you. If you're not careful, I toss you out of the plane, SANS the parachute. You need the perfect project. No. I need a mannequin. You live a free form life - which allows you to be very innovative and a great problem solver. Rules, schedules, and structure practically destroy you. You have to do things your own way. Like I always say: "rules-schmules."

What's Your Spiritual Number?

Your Word is "Fearless"

You see life as your one chance to experience everything, and you just go for it! Well....in theory I believe this. You believe the biggest risk is being afraid and missing out on something amazing. Yes. But it's pretty risky taking the risk. Sometimes your fearlessness means you're daring. You enjoy risky activities. Yup. And sometimes your fearlessness means you're courageous. You're brave enough to do the right thing, even when it's scary. Yup. Sometimes I am brave enough.

What's Your Word?

Accidentally Dating

Accidentally Dating.

I met John the Baptist at church. That’s appropriate – yes? I mean, what better place than a church to meet Mr. Right? Of course, John the Baptist didn’t ask me out then. He had other things to do. Like wander in the desert? I don’t know, all I do know is that a year later, we ran into each other, one thing led to another, and bam! A date. An 8 hour date! Hey, I’m good at the first date thing….I thought a second date was a sure thing, but John the Baptist was…..shy, I guess that’s what happens when you’ve wandered the desert wearing goat fur…..not quite sure of yourself. Over the next few months John and I would be at the same events, he would come and sit and chat, I would chat and sit, all would be nice. But there were no organized dates. They were all….accidental dates.

“Nice to see you, can I join you, APj?”

“Sure.”

“Would you like to go to dinner later?”

“Gee, John-the-Baptist, I’ve already got plans for later, but why don’t you call me and we can go out sometime?”

“Hey, APj! I didn’t know you were going to be here!”

“Well, John…..umm….it’s kinda my show?”

“oh, yeah, errmm….wanna go for a drink later?”

“Sorry, I can’t. But I’d love to go out with you again(silent scream: and you would surely get a little action – maybe I’ll let you push the cart…) SO why don’t you call me?”

My friends thought I was being hard on the Baptist – but come on: I’m sure he never accidently baptized someone.

- “Oops, so sorry, Jesus. I didn’t mean to dunk you in the river Jordan.”

So why should I let him start accidently dating me? Call me a prude (not), but I am not about to accidently date someone – even someone as well-connected as John-the-Baptist. I mean, come on you know what would happen, don’t you? Accidental dating leads to accidental making out, which leads to accidental sex, which can lead to accidental marriage.

Think I’m making this up? Hmpfh. I accidentally got married once. And not in that cool “going-to-Vegas-and-getting-falling-down-drunk-and-waking-up-next-to-a-hot-Brad-Pitt-look-alike” kind of way. Shit, like I could ever be that lucky….