Author: song dog sally

2 weeks 2 days

My best friends from 6th grade will be here in that much time.

We were tight in 6th and 7th grade and then all went to different schools.

We think the last time the 3 of us were together was maybe junior year in High School.

C, I’ve seen a couple of times over the years. Pre-children. Last time we spoke was 3 or 4 years ago.

J, neither C nor I had spoken with her since junior year in high school.

This winter, we had one conference call and now they are coming here.

How great is that?

They’re city girls: Manhattan and D.C. They have jobs that require an education. They hear car horns on a regular basis. They have husbands.

Our lives are all so different.

And it’s so cool that we all went in different directions, haven’t talked for all of these years, and after one conversation decide that we still like each other enough to want to hang out.

I’m so excited I can barely stand it.

 

 

what are my dreams telling me

I keep dreaming about sex: sex with the wrong people.

On the surface I’d say that my libido has reawakened.

But what about the wrong people bit?

Is it lack of options? Lack of imagination?

After what I had and what I lost in terms of a relationship, I’m not really interested in casual sex.

I kind of gave that a go early on – phone sex with an old lover – it didn’t do it for me.

I’ve had several offers (one that I seriously considered), but I’ve declined.

I think about waking up with someone in my tiny home and I can’t imagine it.

Then I try to imagine waking up in someone else’s home and that’s just ridiculous. I haven’t woken up in someone else’s bed since he and I moved in together years ago.

This is a tricky spot to find myself in at 52.

Do I want a relationship right now? Am I wishing that I had a boyfriend or a girlfriend? Casual sex – no strings attached? Long distance lover? One night stand?

I’m thoroughly enjoying being alone, having complete freedom and independence; I like being able to do whatever I want whenever I want.

I love the time that I am spending with friends – something I lost in the last 7 years. The friends that I hung out with then are the friends that were also his.

And many of those friends turned out to be not-friends.

I missed out on a lot of other amazing people – people who are real friends.

I know that’s what often occurs in a relationship, so I’m making up for it now.

I’m really happy and am in no rush whatsoever to be “in partnership.”

God how that expression makes me cringe – I hate the lack of articles in today’s language.

I can’t really see casual sex with anyone that I know (although my dreams are telling me something else.)

But there seem to be stirrings.

My devastated heart is healing.

my view tonight

DSCN0791.jpgThis is what I usually see

DSCN1092 (1)

This is what I’ve got tonight

Those aren’t clouds

That’s red dirt from over the border

 

I didn’t go to Utah…Utah came to me

PS: this happened on my way home

IMG_4518It’s a little windy this evening

The answer

The question:

Is it ever okay to wear socks with sandals?

Opinions tend to vary, and are also, quite strong.

Not a lot of gray area.

Until now.

The answer that bridges the gap:

Yes, it is okay to wear socks with sandals as long as the socks are glittery.

when is it a song

There’s a woman in town who I think is totally cool.

She seems like she’s pretty good at most things and she’s funny and kind and smart and beautiful and I think she’s got her shit together way more than I do which I always admire in a person.

Anyway, besides all of that other stuff she is also a song writer and probably a really good one at that.

We were talking about it one day and she said, “A song doesn’t become a song until it becomes somebody’s song.”

If it doesn’t resonate with someone, then it’s just words and ink blots.

Hot damn, did that resonate with me.

I realized that it’s the same for me with my writing. It’s why a blog is so satisfying – much more so than tackling  the book that I am avoiding writing.

I write something, I hit publish, and then I get comments, or at least a couple of “likes” on Facebook, and I feel like I’ve written something of quality.

Please don’t burst my bubble.

It sustains me as a writer to feel like I am on the right track when I put my words out there in the world.

And the human connection is what separates a journal-er from a writer. The writer is looking for a response – preferably a positive one, but not necessarily.

For example: “Why the fuck do you pee on the ground?” is just as important to me as “I too, like to pee on the ground.”

The feeling of finding common ground with another person – whether I know them or not – and even if it’s just for a brief moment – is intoxicating.

It makes me feel what the Buddhists describe as one soul.

More importantly, it makes me feel like less of a nut job.

So, thank you to ______ for putting words to my experience as a scribe.

You really are so cool.

you are mighty white

*at this time of year I change colors in the sun faster and more drastically than others so my skin color becomes a frequent topic of conversation. Someone thought I was Native American. I’m Italian – I get dark.

With that said:

I have a friend who helps me at work.

She’s three.

One of her parents is white and one is black; she is a lovely combination of the two.

We were cracking eggs together today, and she looked down at my hands then looked up at me, “Sally, you are mighty white.”

She’s three.

 

 

making a request of the Universe

There is something that I want; something that I want to happen which would take an specific alignment of the stars.

I sit here thinking about the possibility of that alignment while trying to keep any hopes and enthusiasms in check.

Those damn stars have not been on my side for quite some time now.

Which leads me to, “Come on Universe. Haven’t I earned a little something?”

Throw me a fucking bone.