Can I kiss...

I try to make your world a better place
I'd smother you in kisses I'd give you outer space
But you're terrified and it's tearing me apart
Can I kiss your furrowed brow and calm your nervous heart
Can I kiss your furrowed brow and calm your nervous heart

I know the world's a bitch don't get me wrong
You've got to give the world the finger
You've got to sing a happy song
Making love's by far the better part
Can I kiss your furrowed brow and calm your nervous heart
Can I kiss your furrowed brow and calm your nervous heart

And if you've got to believe in something make it us
'Cause we've got love and devotion and trust
What we've got was strong right from the start
Can I kiss your furrowed brow and calm your nervous heart
Can I kiss your furrowed brow and calm your nervous heart

I know somebody must have gave you hell
Maybe you went running as the sky just sort of fell
Let me scoop you up and love you as you are
Can I kiss your furrowed brow and calm your nervous heart
Can I kiss your furrowed brow and calm your nervous heart
Can I kiss your furrowed brow and calm your nervous heart

I know it's easy to say...

Digging a hole and the walls are caving in
Behind me air's getting thin but I'm trying
I'm breathing in
Come find me

It hasn't felt like this before
It hasn't felt like home before you
And I know it's easy to say but it's harder to feel
This way

And I miss you more than I should
Than I thought I could
Can't get my mind off of you

I know you're scared that I'll soon be over it
That's part of it all
Part of the beauty of falling in love with you is the fear you won't fall

It hasn't felt like this before
It hasn't felt like home before you
And I know it's easy to say but it's harder to feel
This way

And I miss you more than I should than I thought I could
Can't get my mind off of you

And I hate the phone
But I wish you'd call
Thought being alone
Was better than was better than

And I know it's easy to say but it's harder to feel this way
And I miss you more than I should
Than I thought I could
Can't get my mind off of you
Can't get my mind off of you
And I know it's easy to say but it's harder to feel
This way

And I miss you more than I should
Than I thought I could
Can't get my mind off of you

Came upon...

...these as I walked by a tiny flower stand on my way to buy vegetables...

I thought about how easy it would be to buy them...bring them home to my love and present them with a flourish...how delighted I am to delight her...for the sheer brilliance of the smile...and that twinkle...

How I miss the twinkle...

How easy it would be...will be...

...until then...

Wanting...

...such an acute, tearing pain...so hard to move my mind away from it...

Sitting here, chewing on a match...the red tip sliding back and forth in my mouth as I ponder the ache, the need...raw...that's the only way I can describe it, because words are so ridiculous to me now.

I have no use for them, really...I want nothing more than to not talk.

Nothing more.

And truly...we don't need to talk...do we? We both know. Her voice pounds in my head all the day long...and I can be as busy as I've ever been, as rushed and pulled in a hundred different directions...hell, I can MANUFACTURE a crisis in an effort to escape it...the Universe just shakes her head and gives a little sigh...foolish human that I am...trying to block the raw...wanting.

Foolish human.

Sometimes.....

.....it's the timing

that's the hardest thing

to get right.

And sometimes...trying to think of what to do or say when you're not supposed to do or say the things that you feel like you NEED to do or say...

...is the hardest thing. When all I want to do is...talk, write, hold, and run...as fast as I can to her. And I've sworn not to.

That's the thing about being honorable and keeping your word...it has to be it's own reward, because it certainly won't feel like a good thing at the time.

Across lifetimes...

...yes, I know.

<3

And this one...is for you, Homes... :*

You’ve always been my friend
You’ve always given more than you could spend
Not caring for the cost of what you’ve lost

You’ve kept me so inspired
Your love for life has grown and never tired
And so I find I’m here because of you
And I will fight always by your side

When you’re low and beaten down
When you’re slow to get up off the ground
When you need a hand to hold on to
I’ll stand up for you
I’ll stand up for you

You’ve always challenged me
To climb above and see the forest for the trees
To hear the songs of life sung by wind
Just for me

I will be, I will be, I will always be beside you
I will be, I will be there

For you...for me...for us...

Every star I had wished on let me down
Every clover I picked was dried and brown
Every day I got by..
When I met you I recognized myself
You opened my mind & made me well
I had wished for you a million times...

Underneath your sky
There's a place where I can run to
Underneath your sky
I feel safe awakened by you
If I could alter time
I would stay forever in this life
Underneath your sky

I've always been strong but didn't know
I have always been brave but it didn't show
I had never been here till you brought me home

Underneath your sun I am free
Underneath your stars I can dream
Surrounded by your love
I am complete and always will be

Sigh...

...ouch.

Fuckin'...seriously...


Ouch.

Tell me more, tell me more...

I got chills
They're multiplyin'
And I'm losin' control
'Cause the power
you're suplyin',
it's electrifyin'!

You better shape up,
'cause I need a man
and my heart is set on you
You better shape up;
you better understand
to my heart I must be true

Nothin' left, nothin' left for me to do

You're the one that I want.
(you are the one i want), o,o, oo, honey
The one that I want.
(you are the one i want), o,o,oo, honey
The one that I want
You, o,o, oo
are what I need
Oh, yes indeed

If you're filled
with affection
you're to shy to convey,
meditate in my direction
Feel your way

I better shape up,
'cause you need a man
i need a man
who can keep me satisfied
I better shape up
if I'm gonna prove
oh you better prove
that my faith is justified

Are you sure? Yes, I'm sure down deep inside

You're the one that I want
You, o,o, oo, honey
The one that I want
You, o,o,oo, honey
The one that I want
You, oo, oo
are what I need
Oh, yes indeed

The amazing femme cloak of invisibility...

...and the struggle that they go through to shrug it off.

If there is any counterpoint to the stark reality of butch visibility, it is certainly the femme INvisibility.

There is the argument to be made that there are women who have long hair and dress in a more feminine way...and yet are still visible. My dear friend, Homes, pointed out that there is always something a bit "off" in peoples' reactions to her...and she is arguably fairly feminine in her looks. Talking to her for more than a moment might begin to raise questions...but there's nothing definitive. And so...there is the feeling that something is not quite "right" (and really, what the HELL is "right?") with her...and might cause the more bold to question, while the rest just keep their thoughts to themselves...perhaps pulling out a little passive-aggression to diffuse some of the confusion-driven anger that builds up inside them.

But I'm talking about the high femmes...dresses, make-up, complicated hair rituals...lotions and potions and wraps and scrubs...all made out of things like cucumber and chamomile and seaweed. The ones who go out for spa days with their femme girlfriends and alternately bitch and brag about their butch girlfriends. They have to deal every day with masculine attention that they don't look for...and in some cases, loath. From people who know that they are lesbian, they must endure questions about the butches that they date..."if you're going to be with a woman who looks like a man, why don't you just go out with a real man?" And all of this...underneath their cloaks of invisibility.

How exhausting...really.

They're lesbian...and yet, no one knows. So in order to be out...they have to continually come out...all day...every day. I've heard some say that it is so much easier for femmes because they can pass...not get harassed...really? Easier? So picture a femme...she works in an office. One day, as she's sitting in her office on the phone, a new woman walks by...a butch woman. She drops the phone...because this woman has shaken her...and now, what to do? She's not visible...so the butch will have NO idea that she is a potential mate...and as butches, it can be a hard decision to ask a femme out...the consequences of being wrong can be fatal in some cases. So (and for this thought, I have to tip my hat to a beautiful femme librarian I know and love) it is forever up to the femme to make the first move...or to put herself out in some way to let the butch know that she is safe to approach. So she says something one day while walking with the butch woman down the hall at work...something that makes the butch's ears perk up, and they go out on a date...then two...and on. Now...there's a picture on her desk of her and her butch...and a certain man in another department who has been asking her out for a year happens to see this picture. Now there can be scorn...and there can be harassment...and as many other things as a jealous male can come up with. Suddenly it's dangerous for her...because she's a femme, and she's actually coveted by men...there could be danger for her butch, as well...danger everywhere.

So the femme has to fight...all the time...every day...just as much as her butch lover does, but she has to do it all wrapped up in this cloak. All of this...and she still manages to be the safe haven from the world that her butch needs...the buffer to make life livable. This could manage to wear down even the strongest of women.

The only place these two can actually be safe is in the presence of the other...the only time a femme is truly out is when she is walking on the arm of her girlfriend for all the world to see, and it is during this time that they can be most openly attacked...not only by the outside world, but by the community that feels that they play into gender roles and reinforce stereotypes that the mainstream gay culture (when did a "mainstream" gay culture emerge, anyway?) have been fighting for decades to distance themselves from.

Yes, exhausting...all the way around.

But how else to live?

To all of the amazing, resilient, stubborn, fierce, and beautiful femmes of the world...I bow and offer my deepest gratitude.

When God Made Me Born a Yankee...

...He Was Teasing...

I've made a vow...a resolution...a...a...promise to myself. This promise involves me not turning my television on for a month. I don't actually WATCH TV...I think commercials are ridiculous and far too obvious to lend any sort of grace to the world, so I avoid them by only downloading shows or movies from iTunes and then watching them on my Apple TV. BUT! I've decided to not turn on the television in October. And so...I'm reading...I'm walking...I'm talking (to just about anyone who'll listen, including the lesbian couple who live in front of me who claim to be sisters), and I'm sitting. Quietly. Pensively. Purposely.

Powerful stuff, this sitting quietly business...thoughts littered my brain like so many toys scattered around a play room floor...and until I started to pick each one up and turn them this way and that...examining them and judging them upon their merits, I didn't realize just how distracting all those shiny little things were. And then I started to put them away...in the places where they belonged...until there was nothing but silence in my mind.

So tonight, I sat in my living room and watched the curtain chase itself in the breeze...watched the sky streak from dusky rose to a fiery orange, the rays streaming through the leaves on the tree-I-refuse-to-trim in the backyard...the shadows dancing on the lawn and stalking the fire pit as the sun bid farewell for a few hours. I did all of this...and thought of nothing. I turned off the phone...sat with Ruckus sighing her little puppy sighs while her head rested in my lap, and was quiet.

I decided to add some music to the night and turned on an old Indigo Girls mix that a dear friend (thank you, Homes) sent me once...eventually my thoughts wandered back in, and they circled 'round to a notion I've had nearly all my life. I'm a Southerner. Oh, yes, I am. There was a moment when I stepped off the plane in New Orleans for the first time when I could swear I had smelt that salty, heavy, heady air...laced as it was with the sweet, luscious smell of magnolia...so many many times before. Sometimes we just know things...and I knew then. There is so much of the Southern gentleman in this woman...a hand under the elbow of the woman I'm escorting across the street...taking special care to be sure I'm on the side that the traffic is coming to. The soft, clean handkerchief offered when a tear rolls down a rosy cheek. A tip of the hat...an insistence of not allowing a woman to walk home alone at night...car doors opened...standing when she rises to leave the table, and then again when she returns...a quiet sense of "I'll take care of it for you, my love," and then doing just that...whether it's mending a fence or shaving a quarter inch off her son's door so that it will close without friction, there's a sense of...chivalry...that lives in me.

Some people would describe it as "butchly," or as the way a man used to treat a woman...and I suppose that used to be true, and not just in the South. But here's the thing...those things still LIVE in the South. And yes, I know...they are accompanied by a great many things I'm vehemently opposed to; but the values I'm talking about...well...they're from a different time and place...grace and honor were not just words, they lived and breathed because the people believed in them just as much as they believed in their Momma's peach pie being the magic elixir that would make life right itself when wrong. It was just simply how things were done...and they refused to give it up. I refuse to give it up.

And so...as I was sitting there tonight, I thought about all the creaking old porches I had probably set on for a spell...sipping sweet tea and talking about nothing in particular with my family and friends while we waited for the heat to be chased off by the nippy, jasmine-scented breeze.

When I tuned back into the world...this line was playing..."when God made me born a Yankee, he was teasing."

Oh yes, he was.

Stoned...

Who knows what a stone butch is? If you said a statue of Radclyffe Hall...well...you could be right if we were being literal...and let's just keep that pun for the fun of it...

But what I'm actually talking about is that jewel of jewels...poster children of lesbian visibility, the butch.

Butches are everywhere, and we are out...ALL of the time. I've lived in big cities long enough to not be quite as affected as I used to be...almost to the point that I shrug off fear easily, and some days...I wake up with none at all...until the first subtle-or-not sideways glance. I've read lesbian fiction...lesbian non-fiction...volumes that blend the both, and I've run into the term many times over.

Stone.

Descriptive in the extreme, which seems suitable for butches who are living in the extreme...almost without exception, it refers to a sexual "issue." A stone butch is known to be unable to be touched in an intimate setting...due to a variety of abuse taken over time, causing them to build walls that few (if any) women can navigate, or "melt."

I've been thinking about the term lately...and I've discovered that I have spent part of my life stone without ever really claiming the label. And as I've thought, I've realized that there is not a simple definition for this feeling.

I know that I can simply drift away...no walls are necessary for me to stone up. I just...disappear into my own thoughts, memories, feelings...and keep them in. The more another person (even and especially a lover) tries to break into this reverie, the harder I become. There are people who can crack the wall...but I truly have to trust them, and that is the issue to begin with. After so many years of being misunderstood by so many...and appreciated by so few...sometimes abused (physically and verbally...mentally) by those closest to us...trust is hard to come by, and nearly impossible to maintain. This is a version of stone that isn't truly talked about...unless it's two butches discussing it (and we all know how little butches discuss these types of things with ANYone). Only another butch can truly understand that stone doesn't always start with sex...but with the assaults that we go through in our minds and our hearts...and the need to protect those minds and hearts from everyone...even the women who truly love and appreciate us.

I have to admire any femme who takes on our particular set of issues, and all the different forms they can morph into...

Cheers to you, femmes of the world...

When the strong need strength...

...who is strong for them?

Who cradles the head of Atlas as he holds the world upon his shoulders?

When the one that everyone looks to for leadership...for knowledge...for comfort...for the way through to the safe side of chaos needs to find those things...to whom can they reach?

Where's the solace for the knight in shining armor who wants to lay down her sword for just a moment, because the weight is suddenly too great? Who cares for those who protect them? Where can a pure heart that is full of integrity and honor find a safe haven from the seemingly unending numbers who would demand and damage?

Can there be one who is able to sweep the feet out from under the one who has swept others...who delights the delighter...loves the lover...gives to the giver? Can there be?

Perhaps that is too much to ask for...

...sigh.

If I can...

And if I can make it home tonight
Don't leave it up to me again
To feel fine
And if I can make it home alright
Give me the day or so to rest my mind

But listen baby when you tell me everything's alright
I stay up all night
And baby when you tell me that it's me this time
I don't close my eyes
I sacrifice a little peace of mind

Is love like this, always?
Is love like this, always?

And if I can make it up to you
There's nothing that I won't do
To make it feel brand new
So I'll leave it up to you

Baby when you tell me everything's alright
Well I stay up all night
And baby when you tell me that it's me this time
I don't close my eyes
I sacrifice a little peace of mind

Ooh, love like this
Ooh, love
Ooh, love like this
Ooh, love

Now I'm safe and sound
And true, it was a long road that took me away from you
But it's a long road, and it's longer for you

And baby when you tell me everything's alright
Well I stay up all night
And baby when you tell me that it's me this time
I don't close my eyes
I sacrifice a little peace of mind

So...

...I've been thinking...as I'm wont to do.

There have thus far been two completely compelling women in my life. By compelling I mean ridiculously, undeniably, irretrievably...attractive. Not just physically attractive, but moth drawn to an open flame with no thought for their flammable nature...deadly attractive.

Twin flames. Often mistaken or used interchangeably with "soul mates," a twin flame is actually someone that shares many things, including a parallel sort of life path that ultimately leads them to you...you to them. When you meet a twin flame there is an instant knowledge of "I know you...I've known you...where have you been?" There begins an intense and immediate connection...one to last a lifetime...and into the next...coming from the last.

I've been lucky enough to run into two of them...lucky, and cursed. In both cases, the timing has been off...regrettably. I spent a year and a half healing from my last relationship...sifting through feelings, actions, triggers, mistakes...until I came to a place of being fine being with myself for the rest of my life. The Universe obviously decided to test my resolve and my self-knowledge by throwing yet another person who wasn't ready into my line of vision. If I were to describe the situation, I would say, without a doubt...that she is not ready to be in a relationship. She is in the place to have surface relationships...hook-ups...flings...but not a relationship of substance, because she's not able to give that right now. She WANTS it...needs it, actually...stability...faith...trust...REAL...but she cannot handle it without throwing up huge walls in terror and sabotaging good things that are right in front of her, dancing on the palm of her open hand in fact. The thought of someone loving her for HER...not for her looks, or the sex that she can give with abandon...and the pin-up body that goes with it...is not something that she can accept. I understand why...I know how it feels...how she feels...but I cannot tap into it, because right now...she's being selfish...pushing and pulling...transforming her life into what it will be for the next phase.

There was potential for us...huge potential...perhaps in the future, I don't know...I'll run into her on some rain-soaked side street, the wind gently kissing our skin as we meet again...equals this time. Perhaps not. But I know with absolute certainty that THIS is not our time...too many things to be worked out...to many self-truths to face.

The best thing I can say about the situation is that I've learned to recognize it in a shorter period of time than I used to...I've learned to trust my instincts and understand that when I "know" something about someone and their actions and what they're doing that they're not saying...it's as real as the lines stretched across the palm of my hand...and just as deeply permanent.

Back to our regularly scheduled life.

Let's put this out there...

...because I obviously canNOT be trusted to find this on my own.

AVAILABLE

Brilliant

Thoughtful

Kind

Affectionate

Self-confident

Self-sufficient...but self-confident enough to accept the odd shoulder that is offered to her

Independent

Did I mention AVAILABLE?

Understanding of my need for space and time alone

Appreciative of the arts

Lover of fine dining

Prefers dogs over cats (I know, random...but just go with it)

Open-minded

Able AND ready to commit

Oh...and available...yeah, that would be good.

Ok, any additions?

Just as an aside...

...what the HELL kind of name is Qwikster?!

I think I would demure from subscribing due to the name alone...and to think that somewhere there were people sitting around trying to come up with the perfect name for a Netflix spin-off...obviously drinking many beers...and they settled upon...

Qwikster?

Um...yeah. Fail.

Scenes from a laundromat...

...as it were.

One of the things that nearly kept me from renting my little cottage by the sea was the lack of a washing machine on the premises...but there is a more than charming palm tree in the front, and a breathtaking view of the sunset from the back yard...so I compromised, after all...there's a laundromat just 3 blocks away...not as convenient, but how bad could it possibly be?

Bad.

The laundromat is owned by a mess of a lesbian named Joanne. The first time I went in, hauling my laundry bags butchly over one shoulder, Joanne was right there to great me. A too loud voice boomed, "well, HEY THERE! I was wondering when you were going to come in!" Apparently she had seen me go into the grocery store nearby several times...and why she thought that that meant that I would be by to do laundry is still a mystery to me...because believe me when I tell you, I tried to limit the conversation as politely as I possibly could...every time I went in.

And nearly every time I went in, Joanne would regale me with her tales of 3 beer lunches and staying up late to watch Starsky and Hutch re-runs. She made less than sly comments about the deep green of my eyes, the fit of my jeans...and on one occasion, the variety of my boxer shorts...sigh. The boxer short scene proved to be a little bit over the edge for me, and it occurred to me that there is a whole city (this IS the 8th largest city in the country for crissakes) full of laundromats, that I wasn't tied to this one for any reason other than location, and it was probably time for me to discover my new best place to do laundry. So to yelp I went...and found...

*cue heavenly music*

The Corner Wash. The name alone makes me think of an 80's movie...probably starring Rob Lowe...maybe with a little Ally Sheedy thrown in for color. It's located in a funky neighborhood that is home to a great coffee shop, Lestats...it has free wi-fi (and it's flippin' FAST wi-fi, I clocked it at 10Mbps the first time I went in), is clean, the machines ALL work...and the attendants...friendly, helpful, and none of them lean over me with beer breath to exclaim, "are those Weber GRILLS on your boxer shorts?! Do you wear them to barbeques?!" Such a major win all the way around...

My day today was a little bit stressful, and I was actually looking forward to heading over to my sudsy bit of nirvana on Earth after clocking out for the day...so I rushed over there as soon as I finished...hauled my laundry in in my butchly way (not everything has to change), happily poured in my Tide with a hint of Downy (I'm unnaturally attached to Downy, don't judge) and leaned up against my favorite folding table, surfing the web for the latest bad news about the economy and finally settling in with an episode of Grey's Anatomy on Netflix to pass the time.

I was still leaning when a woman walked by me...short short hair...camouflage shorts...t-shirt stretched tightly across muscular shoulders...skater shoes...and cologne...something spicy and woodsy...definitely masculine. I wondered briefly what her face looked like...and then went back to the adventures of Mer and Der...yeah, sometimes I'm as much of a girl as no one knows I am. A few minutes later, I realized it was time to put my softener in (you guessed it, Downy) and pulled my earphones out as I started towards the machines. I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned around to find woodsy-smelling woman smiling at me with a pair of green eyes of her own..."that your Jeep out there?" I nearly stuttered...and don't ask me why...something about her...but I recovered, and Nickel...that rogue of rogues came out of some place deep inside me...and I felt her smile that half-smile and cock the eyebrow and out of her mouth came, "it is, do you want to go for a ride...in it?" I was rewarded with a grin..."if I didn't have a girlfriend who would have a thing or two to say about it, I would. I'm Alex." Of course her name was Alex...and of course the hand that I shook was firm but not too firm...and it held mine for 2 seconds longer than was appropriate. And then she was gone in a puff of that delicious smell, hopping into a black Toyota and giving me a glancing smile as she pulled out of the parking lot...

...I needed that.

Thank you to the Universe, The Corner Wash, and Joanne who sent me there...

The L Word and feminism...

So. I've been watching the L Word the past couple of weeks. I have it playing in the background while I'm doing the things I'm doing at home...kind of like a soundtrack of women declaring undying love, lust, anger, frustration...you name it, they express it. Women. Damn, I love them...and since putting myself in emotional mothballs last year (nearly to the day), I had lost touch with the fact that there IS a community of lesbians in the world...that there ARE groups of friends that are all gay and spend time and life together. I'm getting back to myself with The L Word, and I'm damn lucky that this show even existed.

Now then...on to the feminism tie-in.

There is apparently an L Word book...so I did a search for reviews on it, trying to decide if I wanted to own this particular piece of memorabilia (go figure, they don't have it at the public library in way-more-conservative-than-anyone-would-care-to-admit San Diego)...and I came across a review from Off OurBacks. HYSTERICAL!

I gave up after about 4 paragraphs and started to just skim...apparently, well-dressed, well-toned, educated, and close-knit groups of lesbians don't REALLY exist. The major complaint was that the show wasn't representative of the lesbian world as a whole. Well of COURSE not! Everyone knows that MOST lesbians are overweight alcoholics who stay at home with their girlfriends and their cats and rarely venture outside the confines of their well-manicured gardens. As if.

I lived in Los Angeles...I went to clubs like The Abbey, and Milk, and Velvet (when it was still around)...and let me tell you all. The lesbians in L.A. ARE hot...well-dressed, well-toned, educated...and...ok, shallow as all hell for the most part. BUT! That is what an L.A. lesbian is...and this show is ABOUT L.A. lesbians. If they made a show about midwestern lesbians, I think the ratings would be subterranean in a matter of 2 episodes. Which brings up the next gripe...pandering to men. The claim was that all the sex was done for male gratification. It's interesting...lesbians are by definition with other WOMEN. This show is about lesbians...and the TOKEN men in it are USED by the women in it...in much the way the opposite has been the norm for the drop in the bucket of time that the last 2 centuries has been. And when one of the lesbians strays off the ranch, she leaves him to return to her true love...a WOMAN.

I think The L Word did an excellent job of detailing all sorts of issues and how they might be dealt with in the context of a group of female friends. I know, because I've been in these groups of friends...and things that happen on the show DO happen within lesbian circles. In this case, I feel like the feminist reviewer is doing nothing but LOOKING for a reason to hate the show...because these women don't LOOK like her...and they don't spend all day hanging out with their cat in the environmentally sustainable shack built on an organic farm, where they grow all their own food and pray to the Goddess thanking her for their bountiful harvest before consuming. Blech...I'll take Tiny, Bette, Shane, Alice, and Dana over that any day...

Cha-cha-cha-cha-cha-cha-changes....

...turn and face the strange.

How strange are things that change when all you feel is a sense of relief in place of the panic that you EXPECTED to feel?

I'm more angry than anything else. Angry with myself for letting it go on as long as it did. Angry with her for being that person for that long. Why have I attracted liars and people who adore drama to the extent that they create it where there once was peace? The only thing I can do is point my finger directly at myself and sigh with consternation, because I'm the one that's responsible for my decisions at the end of the day. As much as another is to blame for their own actions, at some point it becomes my fault for accepting situations and treatments that make me fucking miserable. Hello, Ms. Drake, will you please stand up and take a bow?

Yeah, me.

So now, I'm sitting here, looking around at my place, my darling little mutt, my backyard with it's charming but crumbling fire pit...the sun streaming through the sheer curtains as they dance gently from the breeze...and I'm feeling...full.

Interesting...a touch sad...but more...interesting.