How to Wag

I’ve never been able to sustain a relationship with a man. I want to.
No, I really do.
I love men.
Better now since I’ve raised some boys, Adam and Dylan. They made men real to me, from the inside out. They have a very tough road, as we all do. They just are not allowed to let it show. Hmmm.

I did have one perfect love, male, Sam. He was always happy to see me. He forgave my lack of attention when my focus was on work or school. He didn’t complain if dinner was the same every night. He overlooked the brief response and the sharp one. Whenever I was sad, Sam noticed. He sat next to me and waited while I worked through my thoughts and then just offered himself as the soft place. Yes, you already know. Sam was a dog.

I’ve been an “almost” fit for so long in my life. So many of us are like this, aren’t we? But if I could channel Sam, if I could find the part of me, the part that lies down and lets the loved one get through it, offering only the receiving and the nuzzle, the absolute faith that who you are, your substance means that your reaction is valid and you can own it and that whoever your enemies are, they will be my enemies and if you just need to shout, you can shout, or cry, and then grow quiet and we can fall asleep in the living room in front of the fire.

Sam also taught me the absolute joy of the moment, the complete laughter, uproarious and sometimes disturbing, but infectious and liberating. That the observers don’t matter so much as racing after the Frisbee.

That a great scratch in the small of your back can be the most satisfying moment you can have in a whole day.

That a nip is just a response to pain and not commentary.

I have not succeeded in my romantic relationships but I loved Sam beyond the day he died. Okay, he was a dog. But it’s a start, right? There is hope that I can figure this out. I think he would like it if I did. He’d wag.

Prius Pondering

“Say the word and you’ll be free – say the word and be like me – say the word I’m thinking of – and the only word is” . . . Prius.

Cars – what does it mean and what does it say about you? If I drive a VW Jetta, everyone will think I’m gay. If I drive a Honda CRV, and they think I’m a lesbian, I will be the guy. If they thing I’m straight, I’ll be controlling, strong and difficult. If I drive a Prius, they will just give up on me immediately. So why am I drawn most strongly toward the Prius.

It’s very simple. Gas is currently hovering between $3.05 to $3.19 a gallon. For simplicity, let’s assume everyone’s gas tank holds ten gallons. In my car now (a Saturn Sports Coupe 2 rom 2002) I manage to get about 24 miles to the gallon (not complaining, I’m pretty lucky). In a Prius, I have the realistic capacity to get 54 miles to the gallon. So I buy 10 gallons at $3.05 ($30.50) and this tank will last either 240 miles or 540 miles depending on the next car I buy. So either I’m spending an additional $30.50 a week (roughly) which adds up to $1586 a year and if I take off 4 weeks for vacation or just staying at home, an additional $1464 a year. The Prius is priced about $6000 more than the car I thought I might buy (Matrix). But I get a tax credit on my income taxes for buying a fuel efficient car and I save over a thousand dollars in gas over the next four to six years. An added bonus is that I checked my car insurance, and the Prius is about $60 less per year. So you may ask, why am I hesitating?

Here is the question that is troubling me: Who am I? If I drive a Prius and go to a restaurant, do I have a stronger obligation to go to a restaurant that is eco-conscious? Do I start buying free range chicken? Do I have to give up my additional minutes in the shower? When I say to everyone “I’ll bring some wine,” are they going to expect a better year than this years Yellowtail Shiraz? I don’t know if I can stand the expectations.

Language is Living

Your Linguistic Profile:

45% General American English

20% Dixie

20% Yankee

10% Upper Midwestern

0% Midwestern

What Kind of American English Do You Speak?

Verses from my 50th Birthday

My daughter asked everyone to create poems/verses/haiku/smatterings from various forms: Sometimes it was my childhood name: Mary Gardiner and sometimes it was "Just Mary" and these are just a few of the responses. All the works were touching and memorable but I'm only posting a few of them so my head doesn't get too too big.

From Sara (based on Mary Gardiner)
M ischievious tendencies
A gle wit
R eady to take hold of her future
Y our mother's daughter (baby girl)

G rinning with happiness
A ble to make words beautiful
R ather flirty
D reamer
I dealist
N otably charismatic
E xtravert
R eady to support your dreams

From Pam

if the wind could speak its heart
of beauty untold
it would whisper Mary...
. . . just mary.


From D (based on Just Mary)

J ewel in our memories
U biquitous as ever, she undulates through our lives
S ultry, spicy as she is, smitten are we by her presence
T umble she might down slopes of snow, topples never on floors of dance.

M ince words she does not, but delivered gently -- well, on occasion
A ge of consent, well past, but we won't dwell on that
R adiant when she smiles, she resonates in our hearts
Y oung at heart, nubile of limb, I can't wait when Just Mary is Just Sixty!

From Susan Moger (who wrote something resonating Wallace Steven's Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird - Susan and I are writers of the same flock.)

5 Ways of Looking at Mary

In a class of students
The only mind singing
Was the mind of my friend Mary

In a red car
with a vanity plate
The blonde with all the words
is Mary

On an island
On a windjammer
In a bar . . . shh, the world is moving
Mary's writing

I look at pictures of Mary
and I miss the years
I didn't look at her in real life

It was spring all afternoon
Mary was singing
And she was going to sing
Mary held in our hearts
Always.

========================================================
On my fiftieth birthday, I cannot imagine anyone who was richer than I, with these wonderful friends and their thoughts and love around me.

August Angst

I've been at Saturn for 45 minutes and the cars waiting for service have not budged one bit. That is how August is, sitting still, the air growing more and more dense. the grass longer and more full of ants, spiders growing fat with babies. I hate August. And apparently even the days leading up to August as it is only July 21.


The sun is too bright, too intense, stabbing rays of metal and the heat so relentless that I feel pummeled by it, flattened, dispirited. The kind of heat that as you get into your car, put your hands on the steering wheel, they jump off like moths in a bug zapper, fingertips dancing on the wheel to try to control the trajectory of the vehicle. Unbearable and so unfair, all this heat and pain, inflicted.

The fetid air threatens to suffocate, as smelly and narrow as if a plastic bag were over your head, forcing your own stale breath down your throat.

August is the month when nothing happens. All of life becomes too clotted, like milk souring and hard lumps of putrid soured cream clog the opening. The inescapable reality that nothing is every truly accomplished or done. The bed is forever rumpled. You must shower every day, sometimes twice, to be "fresh." The grass keeps growing and growing. Dirt and dust and filth threaten at every step to overtake everything. Even as you sleep, the filthy forces are at work; countless sleepies gather in the corners of your eyes and your tongue and mouth grow matted with morning sludge. Nothing is safe or fresh or beginning and everything keeps threatening to overcome, to overgrow, to entrap, to mummify.

I hate August. The land of no relief and no release.

Poem "Finally"

This is a poem I wrote a little while back as I reflected on the various stages of breaking up and then establishing and developing a new relationship. The numbers indicate page numbers, as if the poem were a table of contents:

Finally

What Am I so Afraid Of? 3
Take Two Dates and Call me in the Morning 5
Look What I Found 6
Fragile Male Ego 7
The Incredible Bendible Woman 8
High Anxiety 10
One of the Guys 13
Fantasy = Trailer with Cats 14
Get Out of the Trunk 16
Love is Like Valium 17
Jazz Night 22
The L Word 23
Where Were You? 24
Peeling the Wallpaper 25
Graduating from 4GetU 32
Playing Solitaire 33
You Should Join… 34
Bicycle Crash 35
Yoga, Granola, and You 40
Sweet Potato and Lemongrass 41
Everything’s Easy on Vacation 42
I Love You Today 43
Planting Bulbs 44
Cows Don’t Lay Eggs 44
In the Red Chair 45
Questions in the Dark 46
He’s Here 48
Even If It Weighs a Ton 49