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Conorama

Expounding on Nothing

Impartial Observer

 
You know, it is known that human life is experienced on four levels: the physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual. Mr. B, who incidentally is snacking on the brown cardboard from the inside of a roll of toilet paper (instantly taken away of course), is definitely demanding on different levels simultaneously.

Physically, he fears nothing. He's here, he's there, he up, he's down, he's around (somewhere, WHERE?, oh there, thank God), and demands from others a certain stamina previously known only to world class athletes. Why, just five minutes ago he was standing on the top of the shed in his rollerblades, naked of course.

Mentally, he's curious, bored, over-stimulated, under-stimulated, stubborn, wily, and wired a wee bit differently, so they say. I must be wise, intuitive, imperative, cajoling, pre-emptive, whip-smart, and not above using trickery. Quite the challenge. Expecially when one is under a time crunch to get from point A to point B, and Mr. B won't budge. Nothin' doin'. Sweet talk until you're blue in the face, and still, he eyes me with that "What? Why? Never. What? I can't hear you. Why? Blue Circle. What?" Ugh.

Emotionally, it gets a little trickier. He's a big ball of sweet sticky dough, just waiting to be kneaded a little, and baked in your love. He's attached to certain people like Super Glue, and yet can torment those same people with an innocent gusto. He gets your hopes and dreams up, you hang in the clouds seeded with all sorts of possibilities, and then he begins to fade from view, like a mirage, so real and so illusory. His love is as big as the moon, and he melts my heart with the purity with which he receives life.

And under all of that relative experience, is the subtle spiritual nature of a person who in moments can transform the lives of others into a journey of the soul. I traverse mazes of joy, wonder, grief, surrender, and ultimately, discover GRACE. Mr. B is a force of nature, an angel who has enforced a certain Truth to be lived by, for as we all have heard, the Truth will set us free. And that ultimately is what Mr. B brings to my life: the freedom to know in the depth of my own experience, in my own soul, that everything is just as it should be. Heaven must be experienced on Earth, in moments of laughter and tears, and that can be experienced from standing on one's own two feet, then looking into the eyes of Mr. B, and seeing myself reflected as radiant and alive.

 
News Update: It has been confirmed that Mr. B is a committed cannibal, with a preference for the female over the male. In fact, he prefers the soft, delicate flesh on the upper inside arm just below the armpit, as Miss Molly can attest. That's one way to get out of class, in a jiffy.

 
So, the song that was on the clock radio when the alarm went off this morning was "Cry Me a River". Sorry, been there, done that. Changed immediately over to K-MOZART for a little Vivaldi. Much better.

 
Finally going to rest after a long day of contemplation.

C-note is reading To Kill a Mockingbird, and Mr. B has found a way to get up on the main roof. For a minute there I thought that those evil squirrels were getting awfully heavy footed, but alas, it was the scampering of B. He wasn't going to come back down for anything, so had to bring out the last resort: your toys are going into the trash. It's pretty awful to use such tactics, but Mr. B is a wily guy, and stubborn. Have to meet him head on where he's at in B-ville.

Timmy and Jazz have decided that playing with a mouse is great fun, however, it is my computer mouse that they are chewing. Also, Timmy is quite fond of Snood, and sits directly on top of the keyboard, pawing at the screen trying to catch something.

Now I'm going to sleep and plan on dreaming BIG DREAMS.

 
WARNING: THIS BLOG IS OFFICIALLY CHANGING FROM "OBSERVATIONAL MODE" TO "EXPERIENTIAL MODE". ANYONE WITH A FAINT HEART WITH REGARD TO GRANDCHILDREN, NEPHEWS, FRIENDS KIDS, AND THOSE WHO JUST LOVE US BECAUSE THEY KNOW US TO BE STRONG, WILLING TO KEEP ON LOVING WHEN THE TIDE IS AGAINST US ARE INVITED TO KEEP READING, OTHERWISE BE FOREWARNED. THIS BLOG IS GOING TO REFLECT THE EXPERIENCES OF ONE RESILIENT WOMAN AND MOTHER WHO KEEPS ON LOOKING OUT FOR HER CHILDREN FIRST, HERSELF FIRST AND AN HALF, AND FOR THE ONES THAT HAVE SUPPORTED THEM DAY IN AND DAY OUT, YEAR AFTER YEAR.

Life is too beautiful to be just left alone.

 
C-note is going to disect a frog next week.

Then, the schedule is that while C-note disects a pig, Mr. Reeves (the smokin' Joe who orders four hot dogs at lunch) will simultaneously disect a cat. Hmmmm. Nobody call PETA.

 
Description of HEARTBREAK: How it is possible that a parent seems to not want to see the children that they have brought into the world? These are children who love their Dad, and who are completely lovable, sweetness in life, and fun to be with? Tell me,, how is it possible??? HEARTBREAK.

 
In my back yard is a very, very tall old palm tree and it is from the top of this very tree that the "bird of many chirps" does his thing. I've scoped him out from way below, and he seems to be grey with white patches in the middle of each wing. Any birders know what he could be?

 
Well, it was a lovely morning at the Farmer's Market (as usual). Purchased: three baskets organic strawberries, one bunch organic asparagus, one basket each of raspberries, blueberries and blackberries, one large container of cherries. YUMMY.

 
Message to the guy driving the white Sebring convertible VERY erratically on PCH this morning while also working on a laptop computer: JUST STOP IT.

 
Bumper sticker of the day: If only closed minds came with closed mouths.

 
Just returned from a delicious Sunday brunch with C-note, Paul, and J-bird. We went to hear a master of jazz guitar, Ted Greene, who was actually Paul's teacher at one time, play at the club. That man can play that instrument like you cannot believe, and just keeps playing and playing and playing. When we left the club, he had been playing for an hour and a half straight with no breaks, and not even a sip of water. Man, it was really inspiring!

 
There is a bird that wakes me up every morning around 6 am that has the loudest chirp ever. And he can make so many different chirps, that I'm thinking of contact Guiness World Records. I wonder if the Observer knows what kind of bird this may be.