breaking the silence

Wow. Who knew I could shut up for over a month? Sometimes I even amaze myself. Not so amazing, though, when you lose your words. Melly's son dying kind of pushed that situ over the edge for me. She and Ken were so beautiful at Justin's memorial service. He was an amazing kid, smart and sarcastic and nearly sincere in his proposal of marriage to me over my cheesecake and mac 'n cheese. My heart still aches for the empty place he leaves in his family, but the boy who had all the odds stacked against him from the word 'go' packed a whole lot of life into his 22 short years. The urge to rail against God, fate, the universe... it's a common reaction. Seeing Melly accept what couldn't be fixed and knowing she's strong enough to keep breathing... that was amazing to see, but I hated that there wasn't any other choice for her. She's just not a crumble-to-the-ground person, and what good are tears when the damage is done, the loss has happened? I have a new and unexpected distaste for that saying 'it's all over but the screaming'.

I probably started this post thirty times in my head, and never got past the first two sentences. Turning 40 hasn't brought me any wisdom and illumination, unless you count the extra silver my hairs are sporting. They seem damn illuminated...
No other news worth tappity-tapping about. It's been a quiet couple of months here at Becher Haus. I got bored with whisky and took up tequila. Amy, the Belly Dance Instructor Extraordinaire, has mentioned another performance in May, which is kind of soon for me, scarred as I am from my foray into the world dressed as a Village Person back in October. My sock habit has gone from bad to worse, as I now have possibly a dozen socks on needles. No biggie, you say? That's a dozen Second Socks that may never happen. Or, rather, nine. Three sets of two-at-a-time-toe-ups are on needles. So, there is a chance all will be well for them, given time and attention.

Attention. There's a word for the day. One of me and a whole lotta else. Starting to feel the pressure. Clementine has been a major pain in my arse since December, and I'm cracking under the strain. I sent a snarky e-mail to an equally snarky old man the other day, who complained about the store's newsletter. You know, the one with the 'safe unsubscribe' button at the bottom? Oh, and the e-mail list that the customer's have to sigh themselves up for? Yeah. I might have been less than complimentary... you want to see? Really? *sigh* Okay... if you insist...

Dear Mr. McCoy-
As I only use e-mail addresses provided to me by my customers, and have gained permission from all parties involved prior to putting a customer's address into my database, I am appalled that you are having difficulties with the newsletter. I send them out so infrequently, you see, but if another one should happen to darken and defile your apparently fragile 'inbox', you have only to scroll to the bottom and click on the 'safe-unsubscribe' link.
It's really that simple. My apologies for your distress.
Camilla Becher
Clementine's Dry Goods

See? Sense the restrained shitty? Yeah, I've had a few months of that. I love my customers, I love having a place to let color and ideas run wild, but I'm about all out of happy with the economy, and crabby old farts, and lib-tards. uh-oh... insert ranty bit here...
If you're a Democrat, I apologize for the slam, but it's not about you. I'm pointing out a problem I have with Some Others... those people who forget we have a political system in place where we get to express ideas and vote and do all kinds of fabulous things, and here's a Newsflash(!!!)- we don't have to agree, and that doesn't make me an ogre simply because I don't believe in welfare programs and I think the military deserves way the hell more money to pay soldiers. Just. Back. Off. We aren't changing each others minds, and though I can accept that, and value you for your humor and thoughtfulness and creativity anyway, you get to be close-minded and throw me under a bus whilst feeling self-righteous and, to my surprise, 'open-minded'. This is my blog, where I get to be indignant and pissy and vent all the things I rarely get to say to actual humans, though the rant you just read has flown out of my mouth several times over the past two years. I'm a go-with-the-flow kind of person. My best drinking buddy is a huge Democrat, and that's not just 'cuz she's tall. I like people with convictions. I just wish more people weren't so programmed with intolerance. Strangely, more of it comes out of the Other camp, if you feel me.

Now, I was supposed to have a hot date with lil' friend Susan tonight, but a co-worker decided to have labor pains, so she'll be slaving away at her Starbucks instead. Justin Moore is in concert April 2nd. I'm in need of a country music fan to endure it with me, as Herr Becher just looked at me as if I'd sprouted a third ear when I asked him. Time to hit the elliptical for a 60 minute torture session, then some of those new, illuminated gray roots are screaming for a touch-up. l8r, kittens...