The Goddess Rambles

I realize I left you for quite a while, Dear Reader, with naught but my wrath to sustain you. My bad. It’s been… weird. A weird last couple of weeks. A fortnight (or so) culminating in the realization that my BABY is ready to move out of her crib and into a BED and my OTHER BABY has a CRUSH on a BOY. *head asplode*

But I’m all better now. I really am. I’ve dealt with it and am ready to let my children grow up and  move into different phases of their lives. I’m also a terrific liar.

Anyhow, I thought I’d make up for my recent hate-fest by telling you about some of the things I actually like. Love, even. Things that manage to pierce the scales of my general cynicism and make me happy. I see you yawning and yes, I realize that conflict and sorrow are essential not only the human soul but to decent storytelling, but I promise, you won’t be bored. Because while I do dearly and passionately love a lot of things, I am still not a rainbows ‘n sunshine kinda girl. BTW, this list does not include people, because *obviously* I love the people in my life. This is a list for things.

So, here you go. Most of these will be in no particular order, but just FYI, the last one’s the kicker. Knock yourself out:

Coffee. Thank the lord for the inherent sinful nature of man or I wouldn’t be drinking this precious elixir today. Thieves and smugglers are why I can drink it. Ruthless, greedy cutthroats are the reason I can fire up the ol’ De Longhi in the morning. While I understand the Arabs of history wanting to keep this amazing, magical discovery all to themselves, I’m eternally grateful that they failed. Because I love coffee. I love opening a new package of it and sticking my nose into that first waft of scent, I love looking down at the essential oils coating the lovely little beans, I love the sound of them in the grinder, the gurgle of the machine that brews them, and that happy gasping, choking sound the machine makes that signals that the brew is ready. I love putting my cream in the cup first so I can see the agitation and the rapid color change as I pour the coffee over it. Most of all, I love the feeling I get somewhere in the middle of the second cup. I think most people refer to it as “waking up” or some such. Love that.

Diner breakfasts. Diners were created for the express purpose of breakfast. Mmmmm breakfast. There really is nothing like going out in your PJs and house slippers, slipping into an old cracked booth with a formica table, and having Joleen come by with a thick white mug full of steaming coffee, a couple of plastic tri-fold menus, and a smile. You may be an egg-white omelette kind of person at home. You may be a Kashi cereal muncher or a Nutrigrain bar type or even a nothing-till-lunch-er. But that formica table stands for one thing, my friends: licentiousness. Well, that and decadence. For from that table you may freely, nay, merrily order yourself 3 pancakes, 2 eggs over medium, 2 sausage patties, a side of buttered grits and toast with jam! You may exclaim over it and add butter and maple syrup to various parts of it and stuff it into your face until all that’s left is a toasty crust bearing egg yolk remnants. And you know what? It’s okay! It’s expected! No one will judge you! Because lying within the walls of the Diner, my friends, is a glimpse of Heaven itself. But only before 11 am.

New notebooks. Is there anything more full of potential and possibility than a brand new notebook? Sometimes when I buy one, I like to take it out of the bag, put it on the table and just stare at it for a minute. Wonder what I’ll put in there. What thoughts, projects, random information it will hold. It could wind up holding grocery lists or the spark for that best-selling novel I’ll write someday. Even I don’t know, and that’s the beauty of it. Every time a pen is put to fresh paper, the possibility exists for amazing things.

Escapist fiction. I’ve read a lot of important books. A lot. I’ve been an avid reader and a history buff my entire life and I have read a LOT of classic novels, poetry anthologies that epitomize eras and movements, histories, books of philosophy, religious texts and their commentaries, groundbreaking plays, political and ethical treatises, etc. And now I’m tired. And I want some Anne Rice and JK Rowling, thank you. Not that their books are light and fluffy, but they certainly allow me to mentally check out of my own world and into someone else’s, which is all I ask. No, I don’t want to borrow your copy of My Sister’s Keeper, I don’t want to read the new book about American retail and its ethical failures, I don’t want to check out the latest tomes praising or decrying the current state of world politics and arguing about who’s at fault for what. I want to curl up on my sofa and read about wizards and vampires, thank you very much. Now leave me alone.

Writing. Not as in composing poetry or prose, but as in the physical act itself. The application of a good, smooth pen to a fresh sheet of paper and gliding it along to form words. It’s nice. It’s old-fashioned. It just feels good. And it helps me remember things. I don’t remember things nearly as well when I type them as when I bother to write them down. This is why, despite the rantings of my IT-brained hubby, I have to have a paper calender and to-do list. I also like writing letters and signing cards. It’s a bit more, oh, I dunno, personal. Email is for getting things done. Letters are for expressing personal thoughts. Ah, the art of letter-writing… One I fear is all but lost in this ever-increasing world of keyboards and thumbpads. Plus, writing something down reduces the temptation to use text-speak as if it were actual, valid language. Try writing “OMG, LOL!!” in the next birthday card you sign and see how ridiculous it feels. And I am absolutely for anything that reduces the amount of text-speak I have to endure. English is a beautiful language with a storied history. If it’s your first language, LEARN IT.

There you have it: part 1. Many more to come, I assure you. Because as everyone can clearly see, what’s important to the peoples of the Interwebs is knowing my personal likes and dislikes.