Today is a special day...

I have nothing fun or witty to say. I cant get past the tears that I keep running into whenever we get another update or tribute to those people killed at Virginia Tech on Monday. I am from Virginia and had my daughter not earned a scholarship to Missouri for gymnastics, her school of choice would have been VT. She'd have been a Hokie. (I should probably be thankful the Hokies dont have a gymnastics team though 3 years ago, I wished with all my heart that they did so she wouldnt be moving sooo far away.) Nik has friends at Tech..lots of them..thats a great in-state school...full of Hokie pride. All of her friends were safe and accounted for pretty early in the day on Monday. For that I was grateful...but not enough to make the tears go away. I knew none of the victims but as a mother, I have cried for everyone of them.

I remember 8 years ago...Columbine..I saw the news and then, along with many other scared, irrational parents, I went straight to my daughter's school and picked her up. She was safe, of course, but I was not. I could not stop thinking about how I had been able to protect her from harm as a little girl by putting her in her car seat or holding her hand when we crossed the street. I made her wear her bike helmet and taught her not to talk to strangers. That day however, while the parents of a dozen kids in Colorado faced an unthinkable situation, parents everywhere felt an unfathomable fear. We realized that we cannot protect our children from all the bad things. I am her mother but I cannot keep Nikki safe. The world is full of evil forces and the most I can do is make her aware, teach her caution and hope for the best.

After 9-11, Nik, more of a grown up by then, felt some of her own fear and mortality. She stopped saying goodbye to me on the phone. She never ended our conversations with anything other than "I love you Mom" in case that was the LAST thing we got to say to each other. She still does that and I am going to take her lead in this...I am gonna eat my dessert first sometimes, and I'm gonna call my best friend from elementary school who left me a message last month that I have yet to return. I'm gonna haul my "good" Noritake dishes out of the closet and use them for spaghetti tonight. That bottle of wine that I have been saving for a special time? Im gonna open it, curl up on the couch with the dog and call my daughter in Missouri... again.... and tell her I love her... again. It won't ever get more special than that.

It's not lost really....

I have been very fortunate to have loved and been loved by some pretty amazing men in my life. From my first "real" boyfriend, Steve, in high school (though I could go all the way back to the first boy who was smart enough to buy me jewelry - Scott Berry, 5th grade) to my first and last husband, Michael, to the most recent of my beaus (he knows who he is). They are all men that I still love -- I dont still SPEAK to all of them, but for me, I guess once I love you -- you are stuck with me.

I am, however, currently in between amazing men. (Not as in a fun sandwich kind of way...just currently unattached... it's just a dry spell!) I have been divorced for over 4 years now (M has a great girlfriend now and may end up moving to PARIS!) and split from my last "serious" boyfriend, D, almost 2 years ago (he is getting married soon -- third times a charm, my friend! I wish you the best). I have fallen in love since then but had the misfortune of picking a soul more restless than myself who can not give me his heart - no matter how often I ask him and no matter what lingerie I am wearing at the time.

In my current solitude, I find myself reflecting on lost loves - and the same face keeps coming back to me. More than a lost love. A lost life full of coulda shoulda wouldas. A series of bad timing wrapped in difficult choices. We have never fully disconnected. That was never an option. The timing is still bad. The yearning was/is physical...emotional...spiritual...and, in the end, still swirling in inaccessability. We have become good at being tragic but I would hate to think we are defined by that. I once held out my hand and he gave me his heart. I should have held on to it better. My carelessness was unforgivable and yet he forgave me. I cannot think of him as a "lost love"....he has simply been misplaced for such a very long time.

Romance on Valentines Day

So I "met" a guy on MySpace named Johnny (at what age do grown men drop the "eee"?) who said he hoped mail from strangers didn't creep me out (which it kinda does) and he wanted to take me to dinner. Well, I do eat and he didn't look too much like an axe murder in his picture but you never know about these things so I visited his MySpace page...looking for some sort of flashing "I'M AN AXE MURDERER" sign there. I read his bio and his blog and came across a rant he had about Valentine's Day. I ranted back (of course).

So..without further ado...my seasonally well-timed Valentine's Day rant...

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Valentines Day has as much to do with romance as Sunday services have to do with religion & faith. Absolutely nothing!

Romance is kissing your partner on the top of her little head when she is in flannel Winnie the Pooh pajamas and her nose is all red from blowing it and telling her that you think she is beautiful (...and her believing you mean it).

Romance is remembering that her favourite poet is Brian Andreas and picking up one of his books in the store for her even if you don't remember that you bought the same thing for her the year before (...and then her saying that's sweet and not pointing out that she owns it already).

Flowers are romantic if they arrive simply because its Tuesday... candy if it's that time of the month and it comes with a sympathetic back rub... and a random mid-day email that says "Whatcha doing gorgeous?" is better than donating $3.50 to the Church of Hallmark any day.

Romance is a state of mind...a two way street...full of pedestrians with umbrellas and street maps they drew on cocktail napkins (okay that last part was mostly nonsensical but I thought this rant was getting a bit heavy.)

(Note: The preceding opinion is worth what you paid for it...)

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I should note that I haven't heard from him since....

My Space for the hip & trendy

My friend (and I may be using that term loosely here) Krista made me get a MySpace page. I had no choice she explained to me. You wanna be hip and trendy, you do MySpace. So, of course, I have a MySpace page. Im hip. Im trendy. Relatively speaking.

So now people I can't remember from high school send me messages to "reconnect". Did I mention that I can't remember them? And guys who I have never met (who are obviously trolling MySpace looking for hip and trendy chicks) drop me a line asking to be my "friend". My first instinct here is: uh-oh... a guy who cant afford Match.com's monthly fees? Though, in all fairness, I merely took my Match.com profile (excuse me...they are now called "portraits") and cut and pasted it into MySpace. Lets face it. I can't keep up with all those lies (um...embellishments) if I have to make up new ones each time I have to describe myself to people. Blah blah blah long walks on the beach blah blah candlelight dinners blah blah blahbittyblah ....but I digress (as usual)....

So... back to MySpace (which, btw, is www.myspace.com/arty_pb)... I can "pimp" my MySpace page but I cant seem to find a background that says who I am -- you know -- hip and trendy and I think that if I create my own that I have crossed some sort of MySpace addiction line -- giving this whole thing waaay more time than is really healthy. So my page is non-pimped. Un-pimped. Pimp-free.

It is also music free because I havent figured out how to add music yet. I did, however, figure out how to add pictures so there's a boatload of pictures (yes....many are from my match.com profile/portrait thing) for people to look at. I have pictures of my pottery, my dog, my friends, my dog's friends and my dog's pottery. Ok, I made that last one up. My dog's pottery pictures are on HIS myspace page...which is pimped...he's hipper and trendier than me.

Used Puppies

My "sucess letter" to the SPCA:

I had lost my Rottweiler, Brita, last October and was finally ready to get another dog. My daughter Nikki was home from college for the Christmas break so we had decided to see a breeder about getting a rott pup. I had the names and addresses of 3 breeders in my pocket, as a matter of fact, when I picked Nik up from an appointment near the Peninsula SPCA. We had some time to kill so we decided to stop and get some dog treats to feed the pound pups. Armed with cookies and chewies, we went from cage to cage, ignored signs (surely they weren't directed at US?) and stuck our hands through the bars and petted and fed the pups. We talked about how much fun it was going to be to pick out our own pup the next day.

..And then we saw HIM. He was laying with his back to the front of the cage & didnt look up to see us. I poked him. He was a beautiful colour. He didnt care that I poked him, so, of course, I poked him again. My daughter pointed out that his papers said he was a rott mix. Mixed with what? Something brown?

Nik said something to him and he turned his head to look at her. "Oh mom! Look how handsome he is!" Apparently he thought she was pretty too because he finally got up and paid attention to us. He was skinny and his ribs showed. His coat was dull but his eyes were full of hope and trust. He licked Nik's hand and then looked at me. I melted. Surely someone could not have dropped him off at a grocery store like his paperwork said? And certainly someone would be along soon to adopt him. I was just there to spread a little holiday cheer and doggie treats. I was getting a new puppy...not a used puppy. But he just kept looking at me...and somehow I knew that if I rescued this dog...he would rescue me right back.

I never did make it to the breeder's. On his adoption day, I was the only name on the list. I have no idea how that was even possible unless he wore his invisibility cloak when I wasnt there. I had the wrong paperwork that day, of course, and so the process took HOURS! Patience is a virtue...just not one of mine. All of this...for a dog no one wanted? I bit my tongue. I filled out new forms. I waited quasi-patiently.

Marley (named after Jacob not Bob) has been home now for 3 months. He weighed 35lbs when we got him -- he weighs about 60lbs now. He will sit. He will stay. He is fearless. He will not come when he is called though he loves to hear his name. He is the fastest dog I have ever seen and cannot be caught with out a decent bribe. He is an explorer. Last week he discovered the ocean and defended the planet from dry seaweed. Yesterday he ate a book on the coffee table (wasnt a fan of the Sweet Potato Queens apparently) and the day before he unwrapped a paint roller that I had on the counter and got white paint all over his paws and all over my hardwood floors. He is a handful...and a heartful. I love him and Im so grateful that we had time to kill that day.

Sincerely,
Marley's new mom,
Patti Brassard

Note to my dear reader(s): Used puppies are the bomb (does anyone still say that?). They are grateful for a new start and are absolutely, unconditionally loveable. New puppies are adorable and fluffy and cute. Used puppies are a harder sell but once there is one living on your couch, you'll see that I was right...they will save you right back...

The wheels on the bus go round and round...

Due to some really stupid choices made a few weeks ago, I am now a public transportation user. Yep...I ride the bus. And I have decided to regal you with stories of some of the people I have met on the bus but before I can do that, I HAVE to tell you my all-time favorite bus story...

Background: I have a potter friend from Japan -- Akiko -- who visits me every year for a few months. She works in my studio creating to coolest stuff and stays either with me or at least near me as she doesnt know how to drive. We have alot of time to spend together in the car to and from the studio and home. I swear this is a true conversation that we had one night... it will no doubt lose a bit being typed out but still.....

Me: So what do you do for fun in Japan?
Akiko: Lots of things....sometimes the public bus.
Me: Bus? What do you mean?
Akiko: Well its something that the older people like...the younger people dont like it as much.
Me: They dont like the public bus? Why?
Akiko: They don't like the naked people.
Me: What? There are naked people? Naked OLD people?
Akiko: Yes.
Me: Where does the bus go?
Akiko: It doesnt go anywhere. (She is looking at me now like I have 2 heads)
Me: Ooookayyy.... There are old naked Japanese people on a public bus and it doesnt go anywhere?
Akiko: Right. It doesnt go. People are there for a holiday.
(At this point I am thinking that the Japanese are waaayyy easily entertained. I, of course, cant get the image out of my head...erase ERASE!)
Me: But not the young people?
Akiko: No. Only the old people. I enjoy very much the public bus.
Me: With the old naked people?
Akiko: Yes. Do you have public bus here?
Me: Yes we do but you have to wear your clothes on the bus!
Akiko: Clothes? Why?
Me: You'll be arrested if you are naked on a bus! (Now who has 2 heads?)
She shakes her head as though this is the stupidest American custom that she has come across to date. At this point, a public bus actually passes me on the road.
Me: See? I cant imagine THAT guy naked on the bus! I say as I point to one of the guys we can see through the window.
Akiko: Is he going to the bus?
Me: That IS a bus.
Akiko: What?
Me: THAT IS a public bus.
At this point a lightbulb (or Japanes lantern) goes off -- she gets it and busts out laughing. She gets her handheld electronic dictionary out and types something and shows me the screen. Public Bath. I laughed so hard I almost wrecked my car....

Things that challenge me:

I am not afraid to admit that, despite what you may think, I am challeneged in alot of areas. Oh yes...it's true. These are just a few (and not in any sort of order except as they seep out of my head...). I'm sure there will be more.

1. I am directionally-challenged. I dont know if its because I am visually-oriented or what, but telling me to go west or east or any other way is futile. "Drive for 3 miles to exit 64 and follow rte 92 west"? What? Huh? Give me some decent GIRL directions: "Go left out of your driveway. Follow the road until you get to that cute blue house that used to have the tire swing in the front yard. Turn right. Drive til you think you've gone too far and its right after that."

2. I am geographically-challenged. I get confused about ALL the states and where they are with a few exceptions: VA 'cuz i LIVE here, NY 'cuz LV lives there and FL 'cuz it still makes me laugh that its penis-shaped. Oh I know which one CA is and TX too but still thats only 5 out of...um...how many states ARE there?

3. I am MindMyOwnBusiness-challenged. I know that I am suppose to but, really...? Last Friday I got in trouble for telling a man he couldn't bring a chi-wawa (apparently I am littledognamespelling-challenged as well) into a bar. My friend owns the bar. Another friend owns the dog (loosely-used term here). Apparently 2 degrees of "IShouldBeInvolved" isnt enough. It was pointed out that since neither the bar nor the pooch were mine, I should have not stood there shouting at this drunk guy "Its a BAR!! Thats a DOG! You are an IDIOT!"