ImPerceptibility

As soon as the sun started to show through the curtains we got up and packed our stuff. It was going to be all adrenalin and chocolate today. Four four-mile walks I told MyHusband. We can do it! And to be honest, four four-mile walks would have been great. We went down the stairs and the entire place was pitch black. We were as quiet as we could be lugging packs down a set of dark narrow stairs and I felt relieved when we made it to the door alive. We looked around but there was no one to be found. We looked for something to write on but there was no paper to be found. We decided to text Dan in a few hours so he could let our fellow walkers know that we had survived the night with Insane B&B Man and were walking our way to the next stop of our journey. At this point I wasn’t missing breakfast at all, but I would. Oh yes, eventually I would.

The map had a stop labeled Great Northern Lake. A good stop for breakfast? Sounded good to me and it was. The air was crisp and refreshing and I felt alive. I questioned the use of the descriptors great and lake but it was a nice pond. It even had a swan. I ate a granola bar and some jelly beans. We kept looking at each other and laughing. I started my first round of apologies and promises of restitution to MyHusband.

After a leisurely breakfast we walked some more. Eventually I took off my boots and walked barefoot. The path was soft and my feet appreciated the break. Then we ran into two men walking the other way. I explained that my feet hated shoes because my parents had raised me as a heathen. It seems English men are fond of heathens. Who knew? I hoped that heathen meant the same thing in England as it did in America.

It all gets blurry here.  I remember gates, stiles, more stiles, sheep poo and more sheep poo.  The next thing I remember I’m sitting at table outside a pub feeling very dizzy, eating a cheese and tomato sandwich and drinking a coke. It was the best sandwich I had ever had. Some members of our group caught up with us there and I got all mushy and watery inside when I found out they had brought our bagged lunches with them to give to us. I can’t for the life of me remember who they were, but thank you. That was too nice.

After a break and more food we started walking again. I was feeling better and more confident. I was ready to walk the last two four-mile walks. And we walked. And we walked. And we walked. The we walked some more. I ended up sitting in the middle of a cow pasture surrounded by piles of cow poo cursing Dan, his arithmetic teacher, and every map maker that ever existed. I looked up at MyHusband and shouted, “Apparently Dan is mathematically challenged because this is not sixteen fuckin’ miles!” I suggested we call it good for the day and sleep in a barn. Then I burst into hysterical laughter when MyHusband casually hands me a chocolate bar.

We made it to the next stop. I dragged myself up the stairs and into a hot bath where I fell asleep next to a family of bright yellow rubber duckies. MyHusband woke me up and poured me into bed where, as I fell down between them, I realized the double bed was actually two single beds that had been pushed together. “Just leave me here. I’ll be fine.” And I fell fast asleep.

It was nice to hear the laughter downstairs even if I was too beat to make it down for dinner. It sounded like happy times and tomorrow, after I slept, after the jet lag wore off, once I had plenty of protein in my body, I was planning to be a part of them as well.

I don’t, for even one minute, doubt that there is a single person I spent six days of my life walking across England with that I would not enjoy spending time with. Everyone was interesting, unique and entertaining. They all had good hearts and a wonderful sense of adventure. However, I don’t think I picked the right venue to get to know them. Maybe a picnic at the park, a dinner at a favorite restaurant, or a short stroll through the mountains in the fall would have been a better option. I didn’t have those options available so I took what I could get. I did the best I could and I only half regret my choices. Maybe as time passes I won’t regret them at all. Maybe. We’ll see. I hope.

We were on the right train but going in the wrong direction. It was a circle loop so we would get there, we just weren’t going to be on time. My anxiety about being late was building but held in check with light conversation and a little silliness from a fellow walker we met as we entered the train station. Oli had tired eyes with occasional and cautious sparks of mischief that made me smile even though I was exhausted from our 30+ hour pilgrimage to New Castle and short nights sleep. I was happy that I could mostly understand him in spite of his accent and was bursting with excitement by the time the train pulled into the Wallsend station. I couldn’t wait to meet everyone.

The first thing I saw was the tie dyed shirt. “Ed,” I told MyHusband. Ed was exactly how I imagined him. Warm and kind with a big smile that made me feel right at home. A little bit of the anxiety that had been building for the last few month started to ease. I hugged Phil and was surprised at his height. I had imagined him a little shorter and I was happy he didn’t have a mountain man beard.  JJDaddyo was there and seemed a little shy but I could tell he’d be a lot of fun once we got to know each other. I shook hands with Dan and realized that Yes, girls, we were right. He is a very sexy man. Also very sweaty but that kinda adds to the experience. Before I knew what was happening we were off and walking. I figured I’d get to know everyone else along the way. I was wrong.

MyHusband and I stopped to take a picture of the sign at the start of the walk and when we looked back up most of the group was gone! I looked left. I looked right. No one! “WTF?” I mouthed to MyHusband. “I don’t know,” he mouthed back. He pulled out his map and confirmed we were on the right path and we had not been abducted and replanted by aliens, then we walked on.

Throughout the day we occasionally had a walker spotting. There were a few congregating around the pay toilet. Some stopped on a hill for lunch and we joined them briefly. We were happy when we had a few people to walk with but MyHusband had to “commune with nature” and by the time he finished we were alone again.

“Hey, we’ll just walk at our own pace and enjoy ourself” MyHusband told me when he saw the disappointment on my face. He held my hand tightly and I felt strong. Then we walked on.

We eventually caught up with another couple and walked with them for awhile. They were adorable and they made us smile. They also explained kissing gates which came in handy the next day even if I didn’t bring my chapstick.

We finally got close to the end and then we walked straight uphill for about a mile, got lost, had an old man with an even older dog walk us back to the right path, then arrived exhausted, sweaty, and smelly at the bunk barn. All I could do was sit at the table with my head in my hands and question my sanity. But, as you know I am very good at denial and I thought everything would turn out well. I was sure of it. We headed out for dinner.

We had a good dinner if you’re a carnivore. MyHusband was in heaven. I ate three types of root vegetables and something purple that I was assured didn’t contain animals. I’m still not convinced. Once we finished we asked about transportation to the B&B that we had been assigned to for the night. That’s when we were told to make our own arrangements. So we did.

After a cab ride that ended up being much longer than it should have been we arrived at the B&B to be greeted by a inhospitable, sour faced man that demanded we take off our shoes. Then he gave us our room number, pointed his finger and said, “Now, up with you” Up I went! My dream of insane B&B owners was starting to play out before my eyes. I double checked the locks and put a chair in front of the door. I also checked the windows for the quickest way to escape in case of emergency. Then I took a long hot bath and snuggled up with MyHusband. I felt relaxed and good for the first time in what seemed like days. Then the noise started.

I got out of bed and went to the window. There was some type of industrial noise going on somewhere. Maybe someone was cutting the grass? Weed whacking? Insane B&B owner sharpening his chain saw? I wasn’t sure, then it became clear. Someone in the next room was snoring. And snore they did. Loud and proud, all night long!

All I could think was that the next day was even longer than the first and I would be doing it without any sleep. I sat quietly against the wall for awhile. Trying to make myself calm, trying to convince myself that everything would be fine. I mostly convinced myself. I am very good at denial. Then I laid down in bed and cried quietly into my pillow. I didn’t want MyHusband to know I was sad but somehow he figured it out. He snuggled me up safe and warm against him and we laid there awake waiting for the sun to come up so we could head out for day number two.

Sometime I wish I had a camera in my eyes. Then I could save all those funny little things that just seem to happen when you least expect it. Maybe a video camera would be nice as well. I could push my nose to snap a picture and maybe pull my ear to start videotaping. I haven’t figured out how I’m going to download or playback the images but that might be a good thing.

If this was possible I would have a video of my youngest when she was about five. She was wearing a purple velvet dress and her hair was still long and all over the place as always. She ran ahead of me and stopped in front of the automatic doors at Target. She waved her hands in circles above her head and spoke silly made up words. With a dramatic flourish she lunged forward and the door open, as if by magic, and she walked in head held high and confident.

I don’t know what was going on in her head or for how long she had been planning this. I don’t know when she figured out exactly where she needed to stand so a single large step would trigger the motion sensors. I don’t know how she ever thought up this little bit of awesomeness that I have to expect from my youngest but she did it and it was grand. Then it was over. She went about her business as if it never happened and only my mommy smile gave any indication that anything out of the ordinary had happened. I don’t think we ever even talked about it. But I decided right then and there that no matter how long I lived that was something I wanted to remember for the rest of my life. That was when I started to want eye cameras. Instead I have this and my memories. It will do for now.

I suppose some people are happy with mediocrity. We all do what we need to do to get through the day and I’m no exception. If everyone is alive and not hungry by bedtime I consider myself a success. If I have manged to make a plate of home baked cookies, then all the better. There are a few things I excel at but not many. Some days, though, I find myself excelling without even trying. Today was one of those days.

I was fully aligned with my mediocrity as I dropped my daughter off at art class and started to walk at a medium pace around the the mediocre city I call home. I’d planned on an average length walk then back to pick up my daughter. I was working the second-rate day and it was working out great for me. I was almost done with my walk when it happened.

I know you think I fell and made a fool of myself but you are wrong. I have fallen and made a fool of myself many, many times but this was not one of them. I wouldn’t waste your time with that, again. I made a fool of myself in a completely different way.

The fool making involved a very large dog. He was running towards me at a great rate of speed and jumped up on the fence. He barked right in my ear and I though he was going to take my head off. Panicked, I screamed and ran a safe distance past the dog and stopped in the middle of the street. Cars had to stop because I was standing in the middle of the road. MyHusband was looking at me rather peculiarly. The owner of the dog was standing there just looking at me. He wasn’t trying to keep the dog from killing me! He wasn’t trying to control the hell-hound. Luckily the dog stopped before he ate me. Feeling that I was now out of danger I decided to tell the man what I though of him and his attack dog. It started with F and ended with U. I also spiced it up with something that rhymes with passphole.

Many of you may be unaware that I am only a potty mouth when I type. I guess I have potty fingers. In my whole entire life I have used the F word maybe 4 or 5 times. It’s just not how I interact with the world. It’s how I think about the world but not how I interact. I was raised better than that. So this was quite a momentous occasion for me. I not only used the F word, I shouted it from the middle of the road while stopping traffic, while being attacked by a dog, at a man I have never met in my life. That is exceptional! I exceeded my wildest dreams. And the fact that the attack dog was a chocolate lab wearing a bandanna and standing up on a white picket fence with his tongue hanging out and looking at me like he was waiting for me to throw him a ball doesn’t change that on little bit. No, It doesn’t.

This morning I got up and walked down the hall and the cat bit me. It wasn’t much of a bite more of a nip to remind me that he wants his breakfast – right now! This happens every morning, except this mornings was a little different. This morning after biting me he decides to sexually assault my leg. One minute I’m walking safely down the hall in my own home and the next I’m a victim of an overly exuberant pubescent kitten.

I was a little bit shocked when it first happened. Maybe it was denial. I stopped in my tracks, cocked my head to the side and wondered why the cat bit me then jumped up and smashed his lower body into my calf muscle. Was he playing a game? Did he accidentally run too fast and couldn’t stop? Maybe my unbrushed hair looked like a small animal trying to attack my head and he was coming to save me? I’m so good at denial.

I continued down the hall and proceeded to medicate myself with my morning drug of choice, caffeine. About half way through my beverage the cold hard truth starts to sink in. Noticing the look on my face MyHusband asks me what is wrong. That was when I had to explain to him what I thought our cat may have done.

He didn’t believe me at first. He though I was making some kind of joke that wasn’t really funny. He thought maybe there was more than caffeine in my morning drink. I gave him the details and he had to admit that I might be right. I really wasn’t ready to accept the facts. I wanted to believe that it was something different. I had almost convinced myself I was loosing my mind and our sweet kitty would never do something like that when I cautiously walked into the living room to check on the cat. That’s when I saw him sprawled out on his back sound asleep.

Yep! Typical male. I was sexually assaulted by a cat and there is nothing you can say to make me feel any better. I feel so dirty.

There are a few things I remember from fourth grade. I remember teaching myself sign language letters from a page I ripped out of an old dictionary that I found in the back of my teachers classroom. I also learned to count really fast to prove that I did not need to memorize my multiplication tables. The teacher had insisted that everyone would learn to multiply before they left the fourth grade. I didn’t memorize my multiplication tables until I went to college. Then there was the time I got to interview the school secretary. I’m sure the teacher gave me this project so I’d stop distracting the other kids by finger signing curse words and various insults while we were learning to multiply.

In fourth grade we also learned about the Commonwealth of Virginia. It was typical state studies but I somehow managed to pay attention long enough to learn a few things. One of those was the state seal. I was impressed with that. Up until that point I had assumed the person standing on top of the man with the words “Sic Semper Tyrannis’ was a male. It had never occurred to me that it was, or even could be any different. I was fascinated with the possibilities. While the teacher taught us about the 10 most common products manufactured in Virginia I drew pictures of Virtus slaying tyrants. The teacher taught about the major roads of transportation and I daydreamed about finding a Latin page in the dictionary so I could Sic Semper other things. “Sic Semper Meatloaf” my life would have been perfect.

So when our Attorney General Cooch decided to give out lapel pins that depicted a different state seal than the official one that had spurred many childhood adventures I was a bit offended. Here’s why:

1.Where does he get the authority to change the official state emblem? Who the hell does he think he is? A tyrant?

2.What the hell does he have against breasts? Specifically the left one?

3.Why can’t it be obvious that a woman is the one slaying tyrants? Breasts are a symbol of womanhood and by covering her with armor you remove the last bit of femininity and make it even less obvious that she is a woman.

4.Does he have a problem with strong women standing up to unjust men? Does he think she should be barefoot in the kitchen fixing her man a sandwich, leaving all the tyrant slaying to the big strong men?

5.Why would a breast depicted in a work of art be inappropriate? Is he going to shut down the art museums next? Maybe get a sharpie and go through the art books in the library and cover all the breasts with black bars?

Then, I found out something even more interesting than the I have breasts hear me roar angle. I found out that the seal he chose was used for a state flag during the civil war. Not only does he hate breasts, apparently he hates the fact that we lost the civil war and wants to bring back the seal that represented our state during one of the most horrific and destructive times of our state history. WTF?

Sic Semper Asshats! That’s all I have to say.

As part of getting ready for walking across England in a few months I walk around our neighborhood. I try to walk for an hour but not all days allow that. Some days are too rainy or too busy, or I’m just too tired. But I do manage to walk as much as I can and I feel better when I do. I’m starting to miss it when I don’t walk. I think that is good.

The only problem with all this walking is all the time to think. Because let’s face it, walking the same streets every day can get boring. We all know that weird things happen when I think, especially if I have had too much caffeine. And when I’m bored I get angry. So I am out there thinking, bored, and angry. Also, my right foot hurt.

My left foot could win the iron man marathon, my right foot is a wuss. It’s like that whiny kid that’s always complaining about something. The one that cries because a he got a scratch walking by a brier patch, or the one that that goes all drama queen because he got mud on his shoes. You just want to smack it in the head and tell it to shut up but you can’t because you don’t believe in violence.

Anyway, back to the story. I’m thinking about stuff while feeling angry and bored and I see the most perfect lawn I’ve ever seen in my life. The grass was so green and so lush. I stopped in my tracks and started to drool. I imagined taking off my shoes and running through it. Hell, taking off my clothes and rolling in it. I was sure it felt nicer than the nicest of nice carpets. It was greener than the greenest of greens. I was falling in love with a square patch of turf. It was a pure and true love. Then things went haywire.

I saw the man spreading fertilizer on his lawn. Then I imagined that fertilizer washing down the storm drain and into the river. Then I saw the algae bloom turning the river red and the dead fish floating on the surface. I’ve seen this before and it is not pretty. I saw all the chemicals polluting the water my new baby niece would drinking and the cancer that far to many people I know have had and do have. It pissed me off. It really fucking pissed me off. So I sneered at the man when he wasn’t looking and kept on walking. I’m not much into confrontation.  I walked until I was just bored, thinking and angry instead of pissed off and then I got pissed off again.

This time I’m pissed off at the environmentalists and grass. I hate grass and I hate environmentalists. I hate them because, even if I never use one ounce of fertilizer, even if I use no chemicals on my garden, if I recycle, and if I conserve water and energy, and never go to the store without a reusable bag, it doesn’t matter. I can spend the rest of my life being environmentally conscious and I would not make one little bit of difference. There is nothing I can do in my entire lifetime that won’t be undone by one single hour, probably one single minute of all the car traffic, coal plants, commercial agriculture, chemical plants, and factories that are running at this very moment.

In the hour that I walked around my neighborhood wanting to smack my right foot, everything I have done for the environment and everything I will ever do was made null and void. And that sucks.

Fuck you, environmentalists. Fuck you, grass.

Today Youngest learned to spell 25 spelling words. We have been doing this almost every “school” day since September. Last Friday she reached day 100 and we celebrated with ice cream. Learning to spell 2500 words in 6 months is quite an accomplishment. She accomplished this because she wanted too. We talked about what was important and learning to spell was one of those things. She likes to write stories and put them on my fridge. Misspelled words make her look bad.

Then she practiced writing in cursive. There were no tears, no do I have to, and no fooling around. She did it because she wants to learn to write pretty. She likes how I use fancy letters to address letters and packages. It’s important to her.

Then we did some math. Previously we were working on multiplication but it was starting to stress her out so we switched to Geometry. I asked her to try multiplication again because it was important and she agreed once I gave her a small printed multiplication chart to find the answers. Maybe some would disagree, but this is how she learned her addition tables. After awhile it becomes easier to just memorize them then always look them up. There is no time limit on learning in this house and I don’t do tears when it come to Math. Math is fun. Math happens when it’s supposed to and not a moment earlier.

A very noisy blue jay interrupted what was to be a really cool science lesson. She ran around the yard and found his nest. Then she looked through a bird book and found the page on blue jays. She spent quite awhile watching him and studying him. She know knows more about blue jays than most college graduates. She can even imitate his song.

Then we did Science (again). Mark Hauser – Learning about animal minds. She balked at first but once I managed to draw her in she was all for it. She is observing and conducting safe experiments with her cat. She is sure the cat understands quantity and it’s possible that red is his favorite color. I expect a full write up of the results will be posted on the fridge soon. But that is totally up to her.

Then she read a story about Pandas and made a list of endangered animals in her “Book of Notes”. There are many interesting things in there. She added her panda book to the stack of books in her room. She is trying to read enough books so that the stack reached the ceiling. She’s reached about three feet so far.

All of this happened in just under two hours. All of this happened because she was ready and willing to learn. She enjoys a challenge and will work towards something that is important to her. She hasn’t even turned on the TV today and neither have I. That’s true with most mornings. That’s why we never got the chance to laugh at that Good Morning America segment about Unschooling. They just don’t understand. All children are not meant to be be corporate slaves and bean counters. Some of us can think and do for ourselves.

Hey Honey, we’re walking across the country next July. That was the sentence I greeted MyHusband with last July. He said, “Really?”

I assured him it was true and real, and I wasn’t smoking crack. I told him I needed a backpack and new boots.

He explained that it was a long, long way across the country.

I explained we weren’t walking across this country, we were walking across England and he seemed a bit relieved. Then I explained why we were doing this.

The thing is, sometimes bad things happen. You can sit around on your butt and talk about them, or you can pretend they didn’t happen, or you can go do something to help. But they do happen even if we don’t want to think about them.

In 2008 Dan got off his fat butt and did something about it. He also managed to reduce the size of his butt in the process. This year he is taking 60 of us with him. It should be quite an adventure. I hope my butt survives because,

In a few months I will be off to walk 8 thousand (give or take 7916 miles) across England. MyHusband and I will be staying in flea infested hostels, moldy tent, and a B&B that may or may not be run by a lunatic. Only time will tell.

MyHusband will be eating Teriyaki Beef Jerky and Gummy Bears and I will be eating whatever they give me, or maybe whatever I can forage. Dan has yet to tell me how he plans to feed us. I’m a little worried. No one believes me but, I will be bringing my alligator. As participants we are looking forward to the trip and meeting new friends we have gotten to know through blogging. As parents we are honored to help raise money for The Joseph Salmon Trust, a small charity set up by Neil and Rachael Salmon to honor their son Joseph who they lost to pneumonia at the age of three.

The charity assists parents who have lost a child irregardless of the age of their child. They help with funeral costs or pay some basic household expenses which allows the self employed a break from work while they come to terms with their loss. They fill a gap that is often overlooked. I think the sentence, “Nothing we can do will make their situation better, but we can help stop it getting worse” sums things up perfectly.

The trustees of the Joseph Salmon Trust are volunteers and the minimal overhead costs are covered by corporate sponsors, so 100% of every dollar/pound given will go to assist parents that have lost a child.

So, how about it. Will you help me with a donation to the Joseph Salmon Trust? Right now I have raised exactly $0. That’s a bit embarrassing. So if you can, please help me out.

I’ll keep you updated on the walk and let you know if I survived.

Alternate Title : Allow for a period of thirty minutes between daughters multiple hormonal outbursts and watching Joan Jett videos on Youtube.

The good news is my oldest is slowly emerging from the self absorbed, moody, overly dramatic, bullshit know as adolescence. I am once again starting to enjoy her company for more than a 5 minute pre-paid blocks of time. I’m looking forward to cashing in my unused minutes free of hormonal outbursts and persecution theories. At least that is what I am telling myself because,

The bad news is my youngest is bringing it, big time. She has had the benefit of learning from her older sister and the next couple of years are going to be quite interesting. I can just feel it. Oh yes, I can feel it. Fuck Me.

What was I thinking? I’ll tell you what I was thinking. Ohh, lets have a baby. Babies are fun! Babies are cute! Goo Goo Gahh Gahh. Tiny toes. Little shirts. Itty bitty socks. All snuggly and warm. Someone to love! A new person to bring joy into the world. Preciousness.

Then, Hey! This this wasn’t what we expected but it isn’t so bad. Lets do it again! Why wait? Go for it! A family. We’ll have a family. A big happy family.

Now, things worked out fine for awhile. I was meant to be a mom of pre-schoolers. I had the crafts. I had the little food cut into shapes and I freakin’ love play dough, Jello, and sand boxes. Bring on the mud and the finger paint. Sing Raffi songs with me! I’ll teach you your ABC’s and how to add. No Problems. YeeHaa! I was off to a roaring start.

Then…ChAoS. Full freakin’ chaos.

I’m thinking I have served my purpose. It might be time for me to move on. MyHusband can take it from here. He’s had much more experience dealing with moody women. He has two sisters. He’s lived with me all these years. I have though about it and I need to change direction in my life. I’m running off with a bass player or somethin’. Later! :)