February 17, 2012

High Heeled Muses


We went to Muses last night because it’s my favorite parade.  What’s not to love about a parade that is led by giant neon butterflies and high heeled shoes?!  The satirical marching clubs like the Camel Toes and the Bearded Oysters are some of my favorites.  And of course they throw BLING.  Light up diamond rings, flashing plastic martini glasses, and shoes!  Come on!  We go to the same place each year, and I hope I don’t jinx it by declaring that it is indeed an Asshole Free Zone. 

Damn you, Dave.  Damn you that we never miss Muses, and this year you are not here.  And you never will be here again.  I hate you for that.  I hate that so often we hurdle another ‘first’.  I secretly panic that it won’t just be the ‘firsts’ that slice me open each time like a knife.  What if it’s the seconds and thirds too?  What if it never goes away?  Today I feel proud that my little family is marching on, albeit sadly.  Not sure what we should call our little satirical marching club….but I may amuse myself today by trying to think of a name in between changing diapers and holding the bucket while middle darling vomits.

The kids are off next week for the entire week.  All my smart friends are going on vacation.  We are not.  I will be staying home with 3 kids all week and trying not to go crazy.  Is it horrible of me to say I’d rather poke my eyes out with scissors?  I love these kids.  So much.  Crazy love.  I am alive because of these kids.  But damn, they wear me out.  I won’t get a break next week, and, in fact, I am never getting a break again.  Ever.  

I imagine myself as the Muse Melpomene, with three kids on my back, in birth order, wearing a pair of 4 inch heels and trying to climb a mountain of pea gravel.  Exhausting?   Impossible?  Absurd?  All those things.  I pray I can be in a good mood.  I pray we can find some fun things to do.  I feel like this is my test for summer.  Seriously…how will I survive summer?  I don’t even remember last summer.  It was a fog of…death.  So horrible and so black and so hideous.  I’ve always loved summer, and now summer scares me.  We need things to do for the anniversary of ‘the incident’.  I want to go to Disney.  Yes, I’m posting on the blog that I’m taking a vacation to Disney.  Rob me blind you fuck heads.  I don’t give a shit.  Believe me, this is the least of my worries.  I wasn’t even phased to be robbed at gunpoint while I was home, you think I care about being robbed when I’m gone? 

And speaking of Muses and 4 inch heels, who the fuck is designing shoes lately?  I mean seriously.  I am a vertically challenged woman.  I’m 5’2” and that’s stretching it.  I live in heels or platform shoes of some kind.  I don’t own a flat shoe, except for a tennis shoe.  But why? Why? Why must every cute shoe have a 5 inch heel now?  You see, the problem with this is that if I’m wearing such a shoe, I’ll be drinking, at least a little.  When do you, in this city, leave your home in a heel and not drink?  Never.  That’s when.  Are these designers trying to harm us?  Mock us?  These shoes are dangerous.  I’m scared of these shoes and I’m a professional high heel shoe wearer.  I can do a cartwheel in a high heel shoe.  But when I shop, I pick up these shoes, and I say “Who wears this?”  No one standing around me does. That’s what they say.

A person close to me vented about her relationship with her husband this morning, and I am so glad that she did.  She complained that she’s been waking up for work at 4:45 every morning since 2003 and husband does not know this.  He said, “You wake up at 4:45?”  “Yes....yes I’ve been waking up at this time since 2003!”  He sleeps on the couch.  He is apathetic about the relationship.  You know what?  Dave was like that too.  It helps for me to remember that, because we do have a tendency to glorify people in death.  Sometimes I find myself missing a part of him that really wasn't his essence anyway.  I have been accustomed over the years to miss the aspects of the relationship I wanted and desired, and even in death I continue to do it.  The real hard core truth is that in the end, there wasn't this great, fantastic relationship.  We loved deeply.  But the relationship itself was lacking.  I really miss his presence, but I swear I do feel his presence around me.  I don’t think of him as being dead = nonexistent.  I believe, I know, he exists somewhere.   I believe in eternal life.  And even though our relationship wasn’t perfect and sometimes wasn’t even all that good…I still love him.  And I know he loves me.  And I believe it is a love of the purest form, now.  That is something, right?  Some positive little sliver.

The Nine Muses were Greek goddesses who ruled over the arts and sciences and offered inspiration in those subjects. They were the daughters of Zeus, lord of all gods, and Mnemosyne, who represented memory. Memory was important for the Muses because in ancient times, when there were no books, poets had to carry their work in their memories.
Calliope was the muse of epic poetry.
Clio was the muse of history.
Erato was the muse of love poetry.
Euterpe was the muse of music.
Melpomene was the muse of tragedy.
Polyhymnia was the muse of sacred poetry.
Terpsichore was the muse of dance.
Thalia was the muse of comedy.
Urania was the muse of astronomy.

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