My honey bee catching flies.

Skies

simple

Balls to the Wall

 

The Radar is a trip. There was nothing that I could distinguish it as being.

From KOMO news: "The radar is designed to feed data about incoming projectiles to a command center and to troops tasked with launching interceptors from underground silos in Alaska and California.

The system is so powerful it can spot baseball-sized objects from 3,000 miles away. That precision enables it to distinguish between missile warheads and decoys so U.S. interceptors can seek the right target."

Neato!

Thanks brainiacs!! They SOOO know! Not only is it uber smart, but it's good to look at!

Unrequited love sucks.

I need to stop wasting my time feeling all sad and venture out there into the real world to live!!! Fuck this shit!

Liar, Liar, Pants on fire

I picked my son up from the bus stop this morning, where he had been waiting to take the bus to the bus stop in front of our home, for the bus to school. It is cold and wet out. My ex sounded like he rather preferred to bus it but I was not having it.
My son was sullen- and he is a strong/silent type.. I want coffee (it's fucking early) and go to the local drive through cafe. Finally, after a bit of hot chocolate he tells me that he doesn't trust his dad.
Okay I bit, "Why?"

Rewind- The day before yesterday he cut his head open on a table at school. It's a nasty little gash, a self-inflicted battle scar from horsing around inside when he should have been studying. Live and learn. I picked him up from school and took him to the doctor-who advises the watch for behavioral changes and most specifically, in the event he has a concussion, there is a protocol in which to follow- wake him twice during the night and make sure he is cognizant of who and where he is, when I go to bed and again 4 hours later. Ouch. I can sleep through a hurricane- so can he. In past, I've put my fist through a window when someone attempted to wake me.... punched my bed-mates and so forth. This lovely attribute he has inherited from me but he is still too little to be as volatile. Nonetheless, he is extremely hard to wake, frustratingly so.

At around midnight I woke him up... fully, then went to sleep. At around 4am I woke up panicked, afraid, worried I had slept too long... my internal alarm had gone off. I yelled for him (from about 4 feet away) and it woke him up, clearly.

Anyway, everything is hunky dory, he has a normal school day.... and it is his dad's afternoon with him. I packed the information sheet from the doctor with the instructions on waking him (a 48hr process) and expect for him to care enough to read and follow it. I have a dear friend in town and had asked for him to stay overnight so I might visit with my friend... which is why the following morning, this morning, they were at the bus stop together.

My son says that he thinks his dad lied to him. He said, "I don't remember him waking me up", so I would understand. I asked him if he remembered me waking him up... (how could he not? I WOKE his ass up!) and with tears in his eyes he nods.

When I have to explain other people's actions to my son, I get mad. (something I keep to myself) but it goes hand in hand with promising to do one thing or another only to not only NOT do it, but then never bother mentioning it again. I tell him that his dad is embarrassed by his failure of not being able to wake up, and instead of being honest, he lies because  he is afraid of being thought of as careless. It is obvious that my kid has inherited my complete distaste for lies. He is so sincere when he then tells me that he is never going to lie again. While I don't believe it for a second, (come on-he's a 9 year old boy)... and although I told him, "I hoped that you haven't been lying..", causing him to stutter explanations, I find it to be so unbelievably cute (but still very unsettling) that he makes such assured statements, sincerely. He is so earnest about his will for honesty. It breaks my heart that his suffering trust issues with his dad continues.

It was a simple task. Wake him twice.. and really? He couldn't manage to do that? Fucking selfish prick. I hate feeling like a liar every time I have to make grand any focus on his dad's feeble attempts at basic parenting functions, in opposed to saying what I really feel. No one grants ME credit. I am highly criticized.

No wait.
That's right. The Superior Court does. This is exactly why I have full custody. Duh.

Manic Retarded: The ins and outs of bursting retardation spurts.

I hate being so stubborn. Somehow my malleable nature hardens when it is my mind that needs adjusting.

I'm still bent on Mr. California. I could be asked out every day, nudged by friends in others' directions, even my fake facebook boyfriend fails to excite.

Acceptance of this unbreakable bond between my computer Mac and me resulted in more propositions. Boys want the forbidden fruit. Is it the chase, the game? Probably not. I guess since they have all continued to try and get me out after finding out Mac is really my Mac, shows they might just be really interested.

I wish I could be okay with dating someone. That would be healthy. That would make sense.
It would probably do me good. It's not like any of them are creepy or stupid. Hell- so far, they've all been good picks. So what is wrong with me? The clock ticks on... I'm in no hurry to venture out there..
My heart lingers on him, hoping, really really hoping that some small chance remains that he has the same feelings still. (That is, if he ever truly did).

He ignores me. Calls me at random and stays impersonal. It's so unfair because he knows I'll do anything for him. Does he know, for real, that I'm not seeing someone? Does it matter to him?
Does he want me to move on? Really?

Bassnectar - Underwater feat. Tina Malia
I must be cursed with manic-retarded- If not yet a clinical term... I think it qualifies.

City Summers and Camping Nightmares

The city is my natural playground. Granola-I dig it, although the last time I snacked on a bowl, (while sitting at my computer, no doubt) it slowly pained its way, feeling like a razor cutting down my throat, and after 2 or 3 days of gnawing agony ended me in the hospital.

I have always been best dwelling deep in the main hub, not quite sure why, where the sounds of pavement, motors, clunking, clicking and ticking, and the shuffle of people are distinguishable to my supersonic ears and eerie mysteries are not unnerving my urban dreams.

Please! I've done the whole wilderness bit, survival training in Alaska, hitchhiking in Europe and tromping through Northern Africa without a male guide. I'll tell you though, I don't like bugs and they're bigger in size & #'s the further out you go. I don't enjoy hot-dogs or canned beans, your typical camping food. I like my feather bed. I love my stilettos. The pump- occasionally, but a hot heel brings the look together.

I am packing for my son's first camping excursion from home and not going as a chaperone. His expressed wish

for me to be there ❤

is not for comfort's sake but

to avoid carrying belongings on the hike to the cabin.☜

Maybe I should take him in the future, to some rough-trail destination, to work this lazy perspective out of his demeanor. Do I have the ability to survive out there in no-man's land? Of course I do. I grew up in Anchorage in the only 'colored' family in the neighborhood. My mother wore custom-tailored ostrich skin, Hermes suits (her wardrobe was about as near to owning pets as she would have). Are you kidding? In the largest State of the Union, moose in our back yard and more red-necks than a trucker convention, you'd better believe I'm from the wild. Do I want to have to show my child that it IS possible to survive for a long time, in extreme circumstances (with the barest of gear as I was taught to do), without GPS or cellular back up? Not really.

Once again, another moment in parenting glory where I can sit back and thank the good people at Pathfinder for taking the spoiled out of privilege, teaching lessons I'm glad not to have to.