Pardon my rambling- blame it on Phenylephrine HCI

its windy today. it wasn't earlier. but it is now. i sit outside in it regardless- semi sheltered by the trees and fences surrounding our yard. pretty soon the sounds of nature- crickets to my left and far off on the right, the wind rustling through the tree tops, and an occasional bird bitching at a squirrel- will be interrupted by the squealing pleasure of elementary students on recess. some days it takes a lot to even remember what that felt like- its been so so long. if i think hard enough i can remember a recess or two from every year- kindergarten we played "Gremlins" on the jungle gym. Nick, Regan, Sabrina, and i. i always got to be Gizmo. blame it on the fact that at age 5 my eyes were too big for my face. Nick sometimes played as Stripe but sometimes we got that kid who picked his nose and ate his snot to be Stripe. Then Nick would be my owner, and he would feel terrible that he gave me chicken after midnight when bad gremlins would pop out of me wrecking havoc on the blacktop playground. i also remember from the first grade skinning the shit out of my knees from the merry-go-round. More like terror-go-round and round. i had on white tights--well, truth be told, the were originally white, but my father being a single parent and perhaps not understanding the dynamics of color bleeding in the wash- put my pristine white tights in with the blue jeans... but i digress-- i had on tights, i was pushing. another kid was pushing too. it went faster and faster and faster, and why for the life of me i wouldn't or couldn't let go- i fell and was dragged for what seemed like circular miles until it finally came to a bouncy stop- tears streaming down my face and blood racing down my legs off of my knees. needless to say i don't recall many more recesses spent on that thing. Second and third grade were at a Catholic school so the recess crowd was considerably smaller- and actually more frightening. i remember less of recesses- although there was kickball and Jody - even at 7 to 9 years old was the king- but mostly of punishments. we; well i and often my cohorts; Jenny, Stephanie and sometimes Heather and i would have to clean erasers for talking. i would like to officially blame any form of further lung diseases on those multiple occasions. the worse punishment- next to sitting with Sister Eloise and telling her what you had done- or confession- or explaining to my father, was running laps around the school yard. sounds like no big deal, huh? well, this wasn't your average sized yard. there was the regular area for the 'playground'-- and then there was a tree line that surrounded an area about the size of a professional football sized field. when you REALLY got in trouble- you ran laps around this. in a skirt or dress if you were a girl, and in dress shoes! regardless of the weather. i'd rather be whipped with the ruler by Sister Denise; although she was scary enough in her own right. i believe that this is what led me to hate long distance running... it only occurred a couple of times- and i can't recall what 'bad deed' i did to require this punishment. Fourth grade was awkward for me because i came back to public school and several of the friends i had were angry with me for leaving. i said 'trust me. i wouldn't have chosen that hell intentionally- although in all fairness i believe those two years helped to lead me on the path of mostly straight and narrow.

i thought of my birth mother again today. ironically it was random- but then i watched the rest of "Sunshine Cleaning" and it was clear and in my face again. its amazing that no matter how hard we try to fill a hole- that it isn't enough. sometimes i feel like it would have been easier had i been told that she had died. the realization of the type of person and mother she is has been more than i was ready to face. at 31 years old i still ache for that relationship. although mothers have come since then who have given me great love and support- it is not there. i still want to be held. i want to be praised. i want to be loved. i always wondered why i wasn't good enough to be her daughter. i wondered today if she died- would i regret not trying again to be in her life. truth be told- she has made "attempts". weak at best- but they were attempts. but on every occasion, when my mouth opened and spoke the cold, hard truth- she ran again.

i'm addicted to facebook now. i'm not sure why. detached attachment i guess.

the children are on recess now. somebody please tend to that screaming child! they must be bleeding from the head or other extremity-- that's the only explanation for such high pitched shrieking. sheesh. get that kid a band-aid.

this is procrastination at its finest. my husband sleeps. i guess at least i am awake. whatever that means. i am sleepy.