for I have sinned, it's been way too many days since my last confession

Our 25 year old daughter Malina had her tonsils removed yesterday morning. Me the bride and the fiance sat around the waiting room for hours. We waited to see a smiling doctor's face poke out the door and yell out our mispronounced name and inform us our Malina"s operation was a success and that she'll be in recovery for the next several hours. Thus the snapshot of Malina in recovery. I wanted to take a picture of her saying AH, but she wasn't in the mood. Malina opted to come to our house after she was released and she also brought along her  fiance and kitten. I am wondering if that is what the term "whole kit and kaboodle" means. Anyway, I think home is the best place to heal and we are glad to have her back. The worst part of the ordeal was the waiting, and the best part was of course the  outcome, but the in between part of the waiting room was the most fun.I sat around and talked about gall bladders, kidney stones, shingles, stints, and colonoscopies .People not only like to share what's going on with their loved ones bodies, but a lot of people love to talk about what's going on in their own bodies too. I've actually said this in conversations: the prep is a lot worse than the procedure. Anyway, what was really weird this morning was the fact that I got a text message from Malina at around 7:30 am. I just let Putnam (her kitty's name) out of the room...pls watch out for her. We have this crazy stalking vizsla "Linka" and Malina was just making sure our Linka wasn't going to make a meal out of Putnam. But, the dog and the kitty bonded immediately and all is well at the Mazur household. Putnam is an odd name for a tiny female kitten, but the kitty was found by a friend of a friend on Putnam street in Forrestville , NY. ..so that's her name for now. Already this morning my bride who loves to use diminutives has referred to this kitty as putty. I'm of the opinion that cats don't pay attention to any name you give them, but putty seems kinda cute. Malina is doing well this morning too.

I like unusual combinations and I also like unusual perspectives. The abstract is like a koan to me. I remember many years ago during a slow day at work I overheard someone say "I'm bored."  Since I'm so easily amused, I said to the person who made the comment....why don't we play a game. What kind of game? And I said, why don't we play...imagine people fucking. How do you play. Simple, in your mind pair up  what you consider the two most unlikely people and then imagine them having sex. How about Freddy the frog faced nerd hooking up fat Betty the former nun. Anyway this ended up getting so silly and absurd that after a while people were giggling all over the place and were probably less bored. Then, it got busy at work and the game was forgotten. I heard that a few weeks later some of the women in the office did a variation on the game and they called it...who wouldn't you blow for a million bucks. And when I asked this woman who she wouln't blow and she told me Joe Blow I said to her...Jesus, I'm not gay...but for a million bucks I'd even blow him. Anyway I think Robert Redford did a movie on some variation of that theme. The idea actually came from our office. So maybe boredom is a catalyst for creativity. When people tell me that they're bored I say consider yourself lucky. And when they ask...why's that, I say it's an opportunity to talk to god. I would imagine god is pretty fucking boring. And my god is the fucking going on between Betty & Freddy. My god never says to me...excuse me Tom I have to go to the bathroom...brb.
Funny though, there are times when I act like there is no god. And my god doesn't get bored with my thinking. My god shows me the forest.
 

I'm notorious for burning my tongue. I forget that spoons and forks stay hot. I'm glad that tongues heal fast. My tongue has been good to me. I bite it once in awhile and so far it hasn't bitten me back. Except for a lashing here and there I've been pretty lucky. Lickings can be nice with the right tongue. I've eaten tongue too. Beef tongue. With gravy and mashed potatoes. Back in 1972 while I was in Poland backpacking my way through, I stopped in a little village on the outskirts of Warsaw. I went into the fields with the men to cut tall grass with a sickle. I don't really know if it was grass, wheat, alfalfa or whatever...but I do remember it was hot that day and I was sweating. When me and the Polacks got to the end of our day, we were near a well and a wooden bucket attached to a rope. The one man that was with us (let's call him Walenty) picked up the bucket and threw in down the well. Walter (Walenty) (actually Valentine) (maybe not, I'm never quite sure) (so much gets lost in  translation) and pulled it back up from down under. The bucket was the bucket, but the content was shimmering from the reflection of the sun and our collective thirst. Since I was a guest I was given the bucket first. My lips hit the rim with gratitude, I slurped with joy and passed the bucket over to the the man closest to me and from there on and on it went until the bunch of us were sated. And the last man placed the more than half full bucket on the ground and the cows came out of the field too to slurp this drawn up elixir. That night, no one butchered a cow, but we drank some milk and cookies and then slept well for the morning trek to the fields for more sickling. In the morning I was awakened by a tiny sandpaper feeling on my slumped arm over the bed I was sleeping in. It was a kitten from the barnyard cat that someone from the house thought was appropriate to bring home. And thus, this kitty that my daughter rescued recently (pictured above) ....has a funny tongue too.....but I'm glad she found a home  Lick.

I often misunderstand something I thought I once understood and now I'm thinking that's good. And then I go back and say wait a minute, that was really pretty good to begin with, so why not stick with it. This morning ad nauseum and ad infinitum surfaced simultaneously. It may have been part of a dream where I was searching for my lost dog beeshoo who died in my wife's arms way back when on martin luther king's day of 2009. This may have been precipitated by a question yesterday morning from a woman I see most mornings for the last several years. She's a brisk walker. And she usually comes this way while I'm going that way. That morning however she came up upon me from the other direction. It was odd that she was behind me. And she asked, what happened to that little dog you used to walk. And I said....she died months ago. Thus the reason for my dream. Where have you gone my darling little doggy. I was calling out for beeshoo. And I kept on thinking....how am I going to explain to my bride the fact that I lost her dog. So that's something you amateur psychologists have to figure out for me. Actually, you don't have to figure it out for me because I already know the answer. But, I don't know all the answers. Or all the possibilities...or all the variations...the twists. The subtleties. The innuendo, the what the fuck are you really talking about. The parable The babble of babel. The coiner of the phrase...figure it out. Yep, I love it that all this shit can be construed and misconstrued in almost equal amounts. Define almost. Define infinite. Define you make me sick. Define I love you. Too! Two to tweet choo choo.

Oh ok. Or I say fine a lot too. And a lot of times I have thought did I just hear what I thought I heard. I'm not really paying much attention to this blog because I've got a pot of soup stewing on the kitchen stove for my daughter who requested thick creamy cauliflower soup to soothe her aching throat from her yanked out tonsils operation soreness and fucking yes I said because I love you, I will do that. & I would do the same for you. just ask. And sometimes you don't even have to ask because I am fortunate to know enough to offer before you have to humble yourself. At times I wish I was double jointed instead of disjointed, but really, I can't help the way I fucking am and either can the boogey man. Although, who the hell am I to speak on behalf of the boogey man. I'm a nobody just like you are a nobody somebody too. It's for many as though we're sacred onto ourselves. I think I may have dropped my guard on some of the words I have used tonight...misplaced a few here and there. So why did you take the vow. You're a lying sack of shit. You were bequeathed honesty and innocence & yet you decided to go your separate way, For this you are despised and loved. I love you. Will you become a stowaway with me on a ship that's bound to sink anyway. We'll be in the bowels having fun giggling recklessly. I promise romantically.   

 

Autism is the new ADD. That's quite bold. My wife snapped the picture that I'm using today. She nanny's Cammi and she drops her off at pre school. This picture reeks of why school sucks. How unsubtle the shift is from freedom to regimentation. Kids cry because they know they are going into the gas chamber that will ultimately destroy their innocence. They can smell the school's stink as soon as the door to enter is swung open. I have no pleasant memories of pleasant scents from any school I ever attended. Well maybe one, the scent of the ink drying on the mimeographed sheets being passed out by the nun. I wasn't alone because I caught a few others quaffing the sheet when it landed on their desk. I hated tests,but I loved the smell of the questions.For some reason, I survived school. Probably most of us do in a sense, but some really got so absorbed by the system they were able to achieve awards, plaques and honors. Me, I missed getting an award for perfect attendance in high school by one sick day. It was my mother who said....you're not going to school today because you have a fever. I was a sophomore at the time. None of this mattered to me at the time because I never realized there was such a thing as a perfect attendance award until graduation day. Some kid in my class got the perfect attendance award and had to go up on the stage and receive it from our smiling principal. So today I'm bragging that I came in second. But there was no second place award so I got none....none for anything. But you know what, I really had fun in those four years of high school and I had fun in grammar school too. I don't know where I learned this (probably wasn't any school) but from a young age I knew, that no one was going to break my spirit and stop me from having fun. And I'm sensing that this little cammi girl that my bride nanny's may not ever have perfect attendance, but already seems to have a grasp of the importance of her spirit.