Mr Kohl

I am a cat person, which is a very good thing since I live with four of them. I’m also a dog person, which makes things interesting when the two worlds collide. But today I have been watching and thinking about Kohl. Kohl is a long haired black cat with the prettiest green eyes. Shhh don’t tell him I said this because I really don’t want to hurt his feelings, but, he is a wimp. He is scared of everything.

He started his life out with my brother and his wife. He was a scaredy cat from the first day home from the shelter. I think he lived there 6 weeks before he came out from under the bed. He bonded with them but they had to move and couldn’t take him with them, so he came here to live with my mom. I think she had him a few months before he would come out for her to see. He would want to be loved on, he would meow and look longingly, but it took him a long while to trust.

Then came the day I got the excited call. Kohl allowed mom to pet him and to touch him. I accused mom of having an imaginary cat since I never saw him. When I would come over to visit, a black streak would race through the kitchen and run downstairs. Was that really a cat running past or was I starting to believe in mom’s imaginary cat? I thought time would tell.

About a year ago, mom moved and the boys and I moved into her house. Now would be the real test. Would I ever see this infamous black cat? Would I prove my mother’s claim that one actually lived here? Or would I prove myself right that she had a good imagination? The first week here, I counted cats and always came up one short of a full house. I set out cat food and watched and waited but no kohl would appear. I had about convinced myself that I needed to take over my mother’s checkbook when one night it happened. I heard this little meow come from downstairs.

I did the quick head count and found all the ones that I have been seeing, so there was another cat in the house. Maybe my mother wasn’t crazy after all. Or maybe I was starting to hear things. Then I heard it again, so I quietly inched my way over to the steps and saw these green eyes glowing in the dark stairwell. I assumed they belonged to the mystery cat. He meowed again so I meowed back, I figured that I didn’t want to be rude, and he answered me. We stood there talking for a few minutes and I’m not sure what I said, but it must not have been offensive because he would wait every night till the kids were in bed and the house got quiet, and he would call me again just to talk and say hi.

Then it was finally my turn to have the excited phone call saying that I actually TOUCHED Kohl. The funny thing was, the kids had to be asleep or in school and I had to be sitting on the toilet. I guess he figured if I decided to turn mean I couldn’t catch him without tripping over my pants. But that became his ritual. And it was a great honor he bestowed upon this mere mortal. It was a red letter day when Kohl would let me pet him and love on him. And I bragged about it too.

The first trip my darling JB made up here to visit me in this house, I introduced her to all of the animals and told her about Kohl and how to not feel slighted but she wouldn’t see him. I was the only one he would let touch him and he would hide the whole time she was there. You know what they say about kids and animals? They’ll make a liar out of you every time.

JB and I went over and sat on the couch and we were talking when this black cat walked up and started rubbing on her legs. He then insulted me again by JUMPING up on her lap and letting her pet him. I mean I had worked for months to get him to allow me to touch him. I sat on that stupid toilet for an hour just for the honor of petting his highness and she is here less than an hour and he is sitting on her???? We couldn’t get rid of him. I think he fell in love with JB, (I can’t blame him for that. I know I sure did.) So my weeks of bragging and warning her about him being so scared went right out the window.

I really wasn’t upset with him or her. I was amazed though. I know animals can “read” people and know whom they can trust, but it shocked me at how quickly he trusted her. But it really shouldn’t have. I trusted her from the very first too. She is just that type of person. I know I am very lucky to have her in my life. But anyway, that is how Mr. Kohl came out of his shell and learned to trust.

He is still a scaredy cat and he is still a wimp, but he no longer runs and hides when the kids are around. I can now walk up to him and pick him up and pet him and he will lay on my lap for a nice nap. I call my JB the cat whisperer, which is a lot nicer than my Indian name for her, which is another topic for another day.

Writer’s Block

Have you ever had one of those days when you sit down to the computer to post and nothing comes to mind to write about? Well I am having one of those days. So many thoughts but none fleshed out enough to write about it. I came home from work and sat down with full intentions of writing but I seem to be distracted. Write a sentence, go check and see what the dogs are barking about. Come back to the computer and erase last sentence written.

Write a new sentence and laugh at my ironic use of the English language…go answer the phone. Come back and re-read and promptly hit delete. Write again and catch myself staring off into space. Read again and wonder, who in the world will understand this mindless dribble? What is so frustrating is that I have plenty to write about. Between my trip, the kids, the critters, my feelings and thoughts; I should be able to fill a whole notebook, let alone one little page in cyber-space. But today, today it is hard to write. Maybe I have too much going on. But never fear, I promise to have a post tomorrow and hopefully it will be more than this one. I’m going to go stare out the window and try to think of something to write about.

excuses

My intentions were good. I had planned to write yesterday but I ended up with a nasty migraine headache. I hate hormones! I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that if I have a migraine it is either 1. the first day of my cycle, or 2. the day before, or 3 the day after. Have you ever heard the stereotype that lesbians don’t have periods? How I wish that were true!!!!!! But alas it is just fallacy in thinking.

I am done with my uterus. Thank you very much. I had my two wonderful boys but I am never (never ever ever) having any more children. So it has served its purpose. It doesn’t need to practice anymore. I’m done. It should be too. But no, my poor little uterus still practices every month for an occasion that will not happen. Did I mention that the only person I have been with for 2 years is another woman? I aint getting pregnant anytime soon. And if that isn’t enough, I had my tubes tied (I was spayed for you animal lovers) when my second was born. Women should be born with an off button. Practice for a while, do the deed, and then turn it off.

But no, it doesn’t happen that way. At least most of the time. So that was a much too long and in depth description of why I didn’t post yesterday. Sorry about that, but since I am being hormonal, ya might not want to criticize me . Well anyway. This all has led me to think about “other” issues as well. My hormonal imbalances has caused me to have acne. Yes I am a 36 year old woman who once a month looks like a teenager. I also have gray hair. I refuse to have both at the same time.

I will grow old gracefully and let my hair turn what ever color it chooses when I am no longer plagued with acne. Pimples and gray hair just doesn’t go together. The bright pimpled face of youth is fighting with my gray haired adult state. I don’t care which one wins. I’m just tired of the two fighting every month. And yes I have to admit that I color my hair (medium ash brown if you are interested), but still it is an annoyance to have to do it.

And that leads me to facial hair. When did I start growing a goatee? And why is it that it grows in so dark? I found a hair on my chin that I could have put curlers in. When did that happen? And why? I have to admit that my hair is rather dark. Which means I can’t accidentally forget to shave and wear shorts, but it also means that I have to pluck everyday. When did that become a part of my daily ritual? When did get up, wash my hair, brush my teeth turn into, get up (with creaking joints and grunts), wash my hair, pluck my chin, shave again, check the uni-brow and pluck as needed, and then brush my teeth???????

Please forgive the rantings of a hormonally challenged woman. Tomorrow will be a better day.

I am not an early bird.

So tomorrow I have to get up at 5am?   Yes that is am.  I am not a morning person at all.  I can stay up half the night (all night on some occasions)  but darn I hate the thought of getting up so early.  But I will be doing it since it takes 3 hours to drive where my oldest will be showing tomorrow. 

I will be driving me, my youngest, my ex-father in law and my ex’s girlfriend tomorrow.  That is not a worry.   The gf and I will be in the front seats, my   youngest will be in the back along with his grandfather.  The GF and I get along great…the problem is that she and my youngest will be staying so my ex- father-in-law and I will travel back the whole way together.  What will we talk about?  We have nothing in common anymore,  We can’t talk about cows since I am not too familiar with these one.

So what will we talk about?  Will he pretend to sleep?  Will he ask me about my orientation or my trip the next day?  How should I answer?  Yes I am going down to see my Darling JB.  And yes I am dying to spend time with her. 

For those of you who don’t know, he outed me and was a major stumbling block to my divorce.  So now I am to be nice and grateful that he has behaved himself recently?  I’m not sure how I will react.  Maybe it will be great.  Maybe not…either way, please pray for me.  I may be trying to answer questions tomorrow that he has no right to ask.  But questions all the same.

Siblings

My oldest is off to the state Dairy Show with his father and my youngest is having definite brother withdrawal. He has been my shadow all day today. Please don’t think I am complaining, I am just used to older brother taking up part of the slack. He is used to having older brother here to fight with and to play with and to just be with. He is in withdrawal. Poor little guy keeps asking when we are going to watch the dairy show. I tell him we are going down on Tuesday and 10 minutes later he is asking me again.

I am so grateful that my boys love each other and get along so well. Sure there are fights but not near as many as I have seen with other siblings. Not as many as my brother and I had and we got along great. My brother R and I were the closest in age. He is 5 years older than me but it was the two of us when we were growing up. We could in get into some furious fights, but don’t let anyone else say anything or we would protect each other to the death.

We go into so many situations growing up and I have often said if my boys do half of the things I did, I don’t want to know about it until they survived and are grown. I can only think of one time our lives were in danger…but I remember many times broken bones were a real possibility. I remember getting lost (or misplaced) and thinking we would never find our way out. I remember catching a hell bender (a big a** salamander with red gills) and the two of us thinking we caught a dinosaur. I remember finding a field of buttercups ( a beautiful little yellow wild flower) and the two of us laying there for over an hour dreaming of being in a world of fairies and magic.

I remember us talking about everything. I hope my boys have that same connectedness. I hope they lean on each other for support and for exploring the big world. I can only hope my kids have the same wonderful experience growing up that I did. That isn’t saying growing up was easy. I had a lot to deal with, but my siblings made it an easier journey.

That brings me to my sister C. We shared so much growing up. Experiences I mean. We were both abused by the same person and we both were held in check by the things he told us. I wish I could say we were close as kids, but we weren’t. She was responsible for keeping the house clean and organized and I was 6 years younger and a slob. We shared a room and had many a fight concerning my side being a mess. Picture the odd couple living together. That was us. She was responsible and I was a mess. She was doing her best to keep it all together and I was there to keep things in an uproar.

That doesn’t mean we didn’t love each other. She sacrificed herself to keep me safe. (although it didn’t work, that was what she was told). So I know she loved me. She gave her happiness for me and I will be eternally grateful. We didn’t become close until she was married and moved out of the house. Every summer I would go to her house and we talked and we became closer than anyone else I know of. She is my sister and my other half in a lot of ways. I don’t mean that in a bad way or a sexual way. I just mean that now I can start a sentence and she can finish it. We are that close and we have shared so many experiences that we are in a lot of ways connected.

So growing up in a lot of ways we were opposite but in the most important way we are were alike. We sacrificed to protect each other. I would die for her and she would for me. She was the first family member I told that I was gay and her first response was one of worrying that at some point in time she said something that hurt me. She doesn’t care that I am gay, she only cares that I am happy. And I will be eternally grateful.

I am extremely close to some of my siblings. Some from childhood and some as adults. (that includes my brother J and his wife D). I know I am lucky. My parents and siblings ( at least the ones I talk to) are accepting of me. They still love me and support me. I wish everyone had that same experience when they come out. I also pray that my boys will grow up and cling to each other as family and friends.

So that is why I am extremely glad to have this brother withdrawal and worship. I am glad that my kids are together against the world. One can protect the other and both can come to me for support. Their lives are so much different at this age than mine was, but still they can be there for each other. Isn’t that what siblings are for? At least I hope it is!

Ruth

Lately in my readings I’ve been dissecting the Old Testament. I just finished the book of Judges with all of the bloody battles and wars, and this one going to war against that one. God leading this person into war against someone else with victories, people slain, lives lost, homes destroyed, cattle lost, men stealing wives, and an overall bleak picture presented.

But in the middle of the gloom and doom, is the story of Ruth. I think Ruth is one of my favorite stories from the Old Testament. I have read the story from many perspectives and once again I am struck by the story.

Let’s look at the life of Ruth. She was a citizen of Moab who was married to a foreigner that traveled to her land because of famine in his own lands. Picture her life, Married to a foreigner who’s customs and beliefs were so very different from anything she had ever known. What did people say and think? Did they feel sorry for her because she was married to a son of Naomi? Did they talk when she went to the well in the mornings? Was she viewed as different because of whom she married? Was she a stranger in her own land?

She was raised with the gods and customs of her own people, but was she asked to give up every belief and faith she had ever known? When she married the son of Naomi, she became his property and his beliefs were to be hers. I wonder if she outwardly did and said the things she was supposed to but inwardly still longed for her own gods and customs? How would you like to marry someone whose ideas and beliefs were so different then your own? But you belonged to them so you had to at least pretend you believed the same?

I don’t know about you, but it would be hard for me to put away the faith of my childhood. It would be hard to get past everything that I was taught and fed from childhood. It would be hard for me to believe in and trust an unknown God (unknown to her). But she did. A fine example of this is Ruth’s response when Naomi told her to go back to her home and her gods. Ruth 1:16-17

But Ruth answered, “Don’t ask me to leave you! Wherever you go, I will go; wherever you live, I will live. Your people will be my people, and your God will be my God. Wherever you die, I will die, and that is where I will be buried. May the Lord’s worst punishment come upon me if I let anything but death separate me from you.”

I have heard it argued that Ruth wanted the security of living in a household ruled by a woman. But what security was that? A widow under the household of a widow? Ruth would be the one to go out and glean the fields for their daily bread.

Hope for a future husband from Naomi? Naomi herself stated that she was too old to marry and if she even bore a son, Ruth wouldn’t want to wait on him to grow into adulthood. Hope of marriage into the tribe of her husband? A goal just as easily served in her own tribe. Hope for a better life? Ruth knew what she could expect in Bethlehem. The same as in Moab. A life of scrimping to get by, of gleaning in the fields, a hard life without exception. Maybe she had kin to take her in when Naomi left, maybe not. The expected scenario would be the same hard life in Moab or Bethlehem. So why follow Naomi? Why give up all that she knew and loved when Naomi herself released Ruth from the contract of daughter in law?

I think God touched Ruth. God saw into her heart and moved her to follow him, not Naomi. (although I believe that Ruth loved Naomi and felt a duty to serve her.) It would take more than a Love for a mother in law for me to journey to a new land with different customs and beliefs. And for me to say, “your God will be my God.” I would have to have some faith or at the least, belief already in place. Ruth left knowing full well she would never see her family again or even the familiar streets where she grew up. Something, (GOD) guided her and in her obedience, she was richly rewarded.

But not before she was surely tried. Her mother in law sent her to glean and by Grace she entered into the fields of Boaz, a Godly man who made sure she had enough to eat and drink. Naomi would have wanted to set Ruth in comfort and find her a husband. No doubt, if love of God moved Ruth, then I am sure that he moved Naomi too.

So what did Naomi tell Ruth to do? Go to the threshing floor and cover herself with Boaz’s robe. Common harlots of that time would often visit the threshing floor to ply their trade. My next question is why Boaz? He wasn’t the nearest relative. There was another that had a claim on Elimelech’s land and the widow of his son.

I believed God moved Naomi and Ruth so that Boaz would take Ruth as his wife, and the son Obed could be born. And we all know that Ruth become the great-grandmother of a king. King David.

And all the while, I am dumbfounded by the way God moves and works. And yet I can’t help but feel for the young woman from Moab that gave up everything for her mother in law. One who gave up her gods and beliefs to cling to a God she didn’t understand, never grew up with, and never knew until she married Naomi’s son.

Such courage I have never known.

Modern day Fable

I can honestly say that I now understand how the Israelites felt during their exile.  Well maybe not, because at least they were surrounded by other Israelites.  Maybe it is more like a lone Samaritan traveling in a caravan made up entirely of Israelites.

That is how it was this last week at the county fair.  I was the lone Samaritan spending everyday, all day with a bunch of Israelites that were so much better than me.  Maybe we should make that a Samaritan with leprosy, a hairy mole on the tip of my nose and six fingers on one hand.  Maybe I should leave biblical references behind before I am accused of blasphemy.

Okay children, gather around and I will tell you the story of the Lonely Little Lesbian (LLL).   Once upon a time there was this beautiful, gorgeous, stunning,….okay, okay.  An Exceedingly average and short lesbian who spent the week at the county fair.

For seven years, said lesbian has spent that week at the county fair and until 2007, was part of the barn, part of the conversations, and part of the fun.  All was grand and good fun until the wicked ex-father-in-law (boo and hiss) thought it would be fun to “out” (sound of closet door slamming open) the exceedingly average and short lesbian. (Awwwwww).

Needless to say, nothing about the vertically challenged lesbian had changed, but people treated her as different.  No longer was she invited to be a part of the group, to laugh, or have fun.  And whenever she dared to approach the group, conversations would cease, people would stare, and the teens would giggle every time they passed her lonely watch post.

That first day was overpowering and humiliating for the poor girl.  And thus she fled to the safety and warmth of her own home.  Even while she was hiding and licking her wounds, she realized that she had to go back and face the wooden faces and unblinking eyes.

No. not for herself, because she lacks the courage to fight those demons for herself, but for her children.  Those two wonderful children that were counting on her to be there to make it possible for them to stay the week and enjoy the fair and show their animals.

Okay kids…a short break in the long and drawn out story for a bathroom break and a snack…(I heard your stomach growl)……Everyone back?  Okay.  So back to the story.

I wish I could say that the week improved and people remembered that they used to like the short little lesbian in their midst, but no, their prejudices kept them wooden and silent.  I also wish that I could say she held her head high and thought good and Christian thoughts all week.  But alas, she is only human with many, many faults.

Although she never wished any ill will towards those who failed to see, it can be truthfully said that she was quite bitchy in her private thoughts…(wicked laughing heard).  Even as she felt guilty for those thought, she didn’t fight them off.

THE END.

What?  Where’s the moral?  How can it be a fable without a moral and a lesson learned?  Hmmmmmm.   Maybe you are right.  Let me think……

Well not all was lost, because in spite of her pessimistic view of the fair she wasn’t completely alone.  There was one who remembered fairs past and “Love your neighbor as yourself” and would speak to the LLL, lonely little lesbian.  (not to be confused with the LOL, Loyal Order of Lesbians) in which her membership is in good order.

So although the week was uncomfortable, it was bearable.  And in the midst of blind hate and isolation, there was found a beautiful flower of a person who loves in spite of the popular thing to do, who reaches out to someone she doesn’t understand, and cares beyond her own belief system.

And the LLL found that while it was fun to think those nasty little thoughts, in no way did they feed her soul or improve the situation in any way.  So by the end of the week she was able to say a sincere prayer for those who still mocked her.

So I guess the moral is this:  No matter what the situation, God can plant a wonderful person or circumstance to give us hope.  And while pouting and nasty thoughts can be fun, they bring forth no fruit.

County Fair

That special time of year has rolled around again.  The county fair.  So for the next week I will be spending my time helping the boys wash their calves and the goat.  Watching them proudly show their charges in the ring and praying the animals behave.

I’ll try to get home on Weds. or so to wash some clothes and take a long hot soak in the tub.  They have a shower house but I miss my own tub.  It will be a hot sticky week full of animals, sticky children, and barn cleanup.

I can honestly say that I will miss you guys.  Especially my supports.  I was outed at this fair last year and it was not a pleasant week and I am not looking forward to it this year.  But on the other hand, it should be interesting to watch them watch my ex B, his gf D, and I all sitting around talking and having fun.  So I am sure I will be home to get my computer fix.

So till then, May God bless you all and have fun.  But not too much fun.  But if you do, I want to hear all about it.

Weird thoughts

I have mentioned recently that I have been doing a lot of physical labor while working on my pond. That has freed my mind to wander where ever it will and I have had some really strange thoughts. Oh I have had some very deep thoughts that I have pondered for hours, but let me tell you about what I was thinking today.

I can just picture it now. A world renowned director is in the process of filming part of his documentary in the hills of West Virginia. The scene is set in a valley, filled with dense layers of fog, it has a small stream running through it and the sun is rising on another day. The narrator can be heard:

“We can see as every so slowly they start to leave their homes. They look around cautiously to see if anyone is about. They are ever alert, as being aware of ones surroundings at all times is the only thing that ensures their safety. They are careful to not leave any trace that could lead a predator to their door so as to protect their mate and any offspring inside. Watch as they get onto the trails and roadways that lead them away from their homes and out into the dangerous world. Watch the fog slowly begin to rise as the sunlight hits it and join me on this journey into the secret lives of ……….Lesbians in the mist.” Cut to commercial.

Of course the commercial would be for Viagra or Enzyte or some other product that has nothing in common with the subject matter at hand.  (Do you care about natural male enhancement?) Or maybe it would be one of those commercials for well known companies that target gays and lesbians but only on the “gay” channel. I would love to see the travel sites and certain car companies play those same commercials on regular tv. But I guess that won’t happen anytime soon.

But I digress. But can one digress from mindless dribble and flights of fancy? I guess I can because I just said I did. So back to the subject at hand, and if I could find the subject I would gladly get back to it. Oh yeah, strange thoughts. Boy I have had my fair share lately. After I quit laughing at my documentary thoughts, I started contemplating the mysteries of dryer lint. Okay I know a weird thought but where does all that lint come from? One would think it came from all of the clothes but if that were true, wouldn’t the clothes disappear?

 Maybe they only shrink. That would explain the lint and the fact that my clothes are not as loose as they used to be. Maybe dryer lint is made up of lost socks. That would explain why I have 900 socks and only 3 pairs.

Oh then that leads me to contemplate pantyhose. I swear the makers of pantyhose have hidden cameras in our bedrooms and they love to laugh as they watch us squirm and puff and pant trying to get those darn things up over the hips. I think some sadist is out there laughing and rolling on the floor congratulating themselves for making women think pantyhose are sexy. Well okay I admit they are but are they really worth it? Okay but only on certain occasions.

So that are some of the weird and wonderful things I have been thinking about. Weird I know, but the most important question I have left for last. Who in the world thought of boiling pork bones and such to make jello? And how can that wonderful fruity comfort food come from that?

Internet friendships

I was asked this question the other day, “Can Internet friendships be REAL friendships?” (the emphasis was hers)  I thought about it for a minute and then I said that yes they are.  Are they the conventional friendships I grew up with?  Not even close, they are very different in a lot of ways, both good and bad.

The biggest difference would be the fact that I have never talked to my internet friends face to face or even on the phone.  Heck, I don’t even know what the majority looks like.  I have never laid my eyes on them or even saw pictures.  I don’t know what their voices sound like and I may never know.  But that has its advantages too. 

You get to read a person’s thoughts and feelings on any given subject.  And the anonymity of it all allows people to say what they are really thinking.  People may be freer to say what is in their hearts if they don’t have to say it to someones face and watch the reaction.  I think people can be more honest. 

But there is a flip side to that as well.  I could be thinking that I am talking to a wonderful lady from Maine and in fact it be a balding, beer-bellied, man from New York that gets his kicks from talking to lesbians on line.  And maybe that is the case with one or two people.  But for the most part, I trust people are who they say they are.  And it is the same way in conventional friendships.  You may meet someone and think they are a wonderful person only to later find out that are a mean person who stabs you in the back.

What makes a friendship real is the intent and care that comes from it.  No I may never sit down and share a cup of coffee with them or see them with their families at a picnic, but we can relate in different ways.  When someone tells me they are having a rough time, I can empathise with them and pray for them.  When I am in a rough patch, they let me know that they are there for me.  I feel concern when I don’t see them on line for a few days or a week.  And I am glad to see them when they get back. 

I can ask for prayers and I can get understanding.  The internet and the friendships formed from it, are a lifeline for me.  I found out that I can be Christian and gay.  I found out that I am not the only lesbian out there that was married to a man and had children.  I found out that I was not alone.  And in the reflections of my on line friends, I have come to know that I am who I was made to be.  I am a child of God, a mother to my kids, and a friend to my Internet buddies. 

So yes, these friendships are real.  And like in the  “real” world, there are levels to the friendships.  There are those that I have met, those that I have learned some about, and there are those that I care about.  And then there are those few that have a special place.  Yes Virginia, There are Internet friends.