As you can tell, I'm easing back into the blogging thing. If it were a matter of lack of inspiration, Theresa over at 2 Hot Chiks has solved that one for me. In her sexy brainy way that I adore she has come up with five questions for many of us, myself included. You can see mine here and wonder about my answers as I deliberate them myself. Part of the deal in getting these questions to answer is that I have to agree to offer to interview someone else in the same manner. Being much lazier than Theresa (no, wait, I prefer the term "less ambitious") I will grant this offer to the first three takers who have blogs and wish to answer my five interview questions. I cannot, however, guarantee that my questions will be as nifty and creative as Theresa's.

Sometime during the wee hours of the night/morning I picked up a new reader who commented on some of my more obscure posts. However, one thing s/he said hit home - perhaps it's a more ubiquitous phrase than I thought, but it is merely, "a marriage is not a suicide pact." That one little sentence was for me like clouds clearing before the sun. I wish someone had told me that months ago. I really did feel like I was dying in my marriage - and it wasn't like X2B was exactly flourishing and growing either. I have a feeling that that expression is going to become part of my vocabulary for the next time I happen across someone in my shoes.

Today was a very nice day. The Boy Child and I got up early (for a Sunday; late for a weekday), dressed, and headed on down to my parents' house. It was a beautiful day. My mother made hot dogs and sauerkraut for lunch - topped with stoneground mustard with horseradish, it was absolutely scrumptious. We ate outside and afterwards, I commented to my dad that I felt so comfortable I could just sit there all afternoon. He asked if I would prefer the hammock, and dragged it out of the shed, setting it up for me. My mother pulled up a chair too (very odd for her to sit for any length of time). She and my father apparently work the same Washington Post Sunday crossword puzzle on the weekends - she makes a photocopy before they begin. She made me a copy too so we sat there in the sun together. The Boy Child played on his playground and helped my father move the furniture out of the gazebo (they live on a lake) to wash it down for the summer. Occasionally my mother or I would look up and watch the cormorants dive, the mallards in mating season, the blue herons, or the ospreys building a nest across the lake. I finished the crossword puzzle pretty quickly and started on one from Friday they'd both had difficulty with - it was harder because I had to erase almost all the answers either of them had written in to be able to solve it. After a while I noticed that I was sporting quite a bit of color on my arms and legs (I was wearing a miniskirt and short sleeved shirt) and I hadn't even done the one job I wanted to do yet. So I hauled myself out of the hammock and asked my dad for the supplies to wash my car. While I was working on it my mom came out from fixing dinner and suggested jokingly I do hers also. Since she drives a Miata it only took a few minutes. My dad felt compelled to take a picture since he wasn't sure anyone had ever washed my mother's car before, but I figured it was the least I could do in exchange for two delicious meals with casting couch teens.

Over dinner (marinated chicken done on the grill, roasted potatoes, fresh asparagus, and corn on the cob) I looked out the back windows at the world and realized how happy my life is now. I really want for nothing. I have so much potential in my future, and so many assets - my intelligence, looks and health among them - that my life really feels quite full. There was only one fleeting sensation of longing in the day. My mother has become quite fond of Rod Stewart crooning the classic songs (I think it's his "Great American Songbook" series). While I've never liked Rod Stewart's voice, there were a few moments that I closed my eyes briefly and wished I were dancing in the arms of some handsome man, wearing the dress I bought last year and have never actually worn. I didn't want anyone there with me and my family; I don't want a stepfather for my son, but once in a while I wish I could be taken away and pampered for all the delights my womanhood has to offer for a few days and nights - wining, dining, dancing, laughing, talking, and, of course, sex - ranging from fervent needy lust the moment we're alone together to sleepy wakening desire as the sun begins to peek in through the blinds.

But all that will come in time. Hell, I could have it now if I were to lower my standards and accept the offers of men I'm not interested in. So I know that when it happens it will be all the more amazing an experience. I have a wonderful life, and there's so much more of it to come.

Anyway, I should stay up tonight and get a bit of work done, but I've got those post-sunburn chills, so I think I'll climb into bed with the New York Times Sunday crossword and call it a night

hmmm.. once one has considered what 'nothing' is.. one has to consider the other end of the spectrum. after all, it is only when one knows 'something' that one can know 'nothing'. what is 'reality' ? there have been so many definitions that one really can't be sure anymore. you have the definition given in the matrix, where reality is a simulation. you have the version i touched on, where mental energy is 'flitting' through multiverses, each in a slightly different state. you have.. rationale. and yet.. irrationality. it exists at every turn. at every minute. in every one of us. but we can't define it. simply due to the same reason that 'nothing' really can't be defined as anything better than the 'non-existence of something'. one is able to successfully define something that one is able to observe externally - the scientists' impartial viewpoint. one can but try.. to use that word i've used before - imagine. there could be this: reality that we see is nothing but our subconscious rationalizing for some abstract concepts that it has stored. basically, when we are sleeping, we are actually in reality. there could be: reality is what we make it. whatever it is that we think of, gets translated into reality. we consider this to be our 'efforts'. there could be this too: the casting couch is true.. after all senses are nothing but finely tuned electrical impulses which can easily be inputted externally. it may be aliens that are doing this too. and yet.. all these explanations don't really explain concepts such as feelings. instincts. irrationality. could it be that this one thing that is not explained is nothing but the system compensating for all the rules and laws that have been built in ? naaah.. doesn't make sense. re-try: irrationality is itself reality. we just can't recognize it, and hence we sideline it by calling it something that is impossible. because the mind never considers the 'impossible' option in any problem. it's a possibility. why is it that my mind really cannot think of possible alternates to reality ? i know that conspiracy is forming a major reason in this post, but it's almost as if one has to be restricted to a certain knowledge alone, so that the actuality is never determined. and hence the potential. and thus the person. it is long observed in science that that less that 10% of the human brain is used in his lifetime. and memory does not form a major part either. then why ? for all its discoveries, science has never managed to explain how to 'unlock' the brain. but then science is based on rules & laws. and remember, the only way to discover is to bend, if not break, these natural laws. yet again - how ? there is another point to the whole matter. the 'impartial observer' one. how can one observe 'non-reality' ? is it possible to isolate the observer from the observed environment ? will he not affect the 'non-reality' and make it 'reality' ? is this my brain's natural tendency of rationalization expressing itself ? you got me there. but i'm working on it. and this blog is revealing more everyday. so.. get real