5 Day Friday

(my pic, a mystic’s words)
(or listen here)

SonHerisme had to be taken to an emergency orthodontist appointment (so very teenagery). He is fine – WHEW, Momma, breathe, breathe, it’s okay. On the way out of the appointment, he turned to me, asking if we were going to stop at the store and pick up the FIFA 2021 Switch game. Uh, no, sweet buddy-boo-bear because you have to get back to school meets and works. SonHerisme is finishing out this school year Google-meeting from home. We are lucky, I know. He is a great kid and doing well, so I left it up to him. He will be fully vaccinated by the final week of school as it turns out now and will return to regular full-time in-person school in the fall (barring any crazy variant impacts). But, for this school year, we are done with whiplash COVID changes. I think we all are done done done.

Side note: School teachers and staff should be paid double for this past school year of insanity when we also demanded that they change their entire teaching structures on a moment’s notice during an unprecedented global pandemic and shitty politicians/ shitty community members putting an obscene amount of responsibility and pressure on them AS IF they are responsible for the entire economy and well-being of the entire country. And if they ARE, then PAY THEM as if they are. Fucking hells. I feel the seething of the angers again. If you were that asshole, fuck you and here is the exit (sha-blam-o out the door where the stoop has mysteriously disappeared and now you have landed in the mud on your face ruining your clothes/makeup/hair/shoes and your inhumane attitude).


Driving home from the orthodontist, I say no to stopping for a new switch game. SonHerisme claims he’s been planning his whole day around getting this new game TODAY (ugh-a, mom!). Well, dear sweet puffin boo-buggy bear, note to yourself that when you are making plans which involve someone else, you must include them in the plan-making discussions or count on your plans changing. Anyway, I figured we could go after his soccer game tomorrow morning and make it a weekend treat after a dedicated week of schoolwork and practices.


Tomorrow is Tuesday, not Saturday. There is not soccer game tomorrow. Not even soccer practice. Tuesdays = tennis y’all.

What the Actuals

I thought it was Friday for most of the morning. It is Monday. MONDAY, PEOPLE. Shit, this is going to be one lonnnnng freaking week. So now I have a 5-day Friday week. Everyday will feel like Friday when I awaken, only to be horribly punched in the face with the actual day fact at some pivot point in the day. Enter disappointment and exhaustion.

Or, a golden note because I have nothing accomplished yet for the week so now I do not have to panic that I have to cram everything in on Friday.

Does this make today the Monday-ist kind of Monday?

First world.

Meanwhile, have we learned nothing? What the frick are humans doing bombing other humans to make the point that we are mighty powerful overlords who will destroy you into oblivion because you might have terrorists somewhere near you? Haven’t we figured out any better way to communicate? My heart is heavy for all of the people. Not the religious right wing zealots. Not the fever-pitch terrorists. My heart is heavy for ALL of the 80%, 95%, whatever% of regular people who are caught up in the truly nonsensical inhumane insanity of my dick is bigger, watch me bomb the crap out of you to prove it.

And into my own strange life of privilege, have I learned nothing about the space I inhabit and how my conduct affects others?

I do not want to go back to sleep on this stuff. We are still trying to extricate ourselves from the sleep-induced t-r-ump/clinton/bush/bush/reagan debacle. I’m purposefully leaving out Obama as he was a complete pr anomaly whom I believe truly tried to put his best foot forward every single day but was strangled captive by a system he could not really lead in any broader sense than what he did. I do not idolize, worship, or wholly agree with him, but I do see him as one of those rare people who led with earnest integrity. And it’s all about the importance of being earnest – yes? NO – it’s about integrity, weirdos with beardos (not directed at you, because I know that you know, bearded or not).

I do not want to sleep on helping SonHerisme grow to be his own self. I am trying. It is truly a battle every single day to not be asleep with things within myself, or to give in to drowning in all of the anxiety and depression. I have a very difficult time staying present. It’s so important to me to not pass on any more generational trauma to SonHerisme. I try different things to support myself, to support SonHerisme. I cannot explain the bigger world to him without him knowing that some of us are just plain old power-hungry assholes, and this is the heartbreak of every parent. Luckily for SonHerisme, and all of humanity, there are by far, much much more of us not power-hungry assholes. We have to stay awake to recognize the difference and lift all of the rest of us high enough that those assholes lose their power.

We can do hard things.

Hold on – is this… is this… optimism? On a 5-day Friday? W H A T *secretly suspects something shitty is lurking just around the corner, yet smiles, tells the irl people how much she loves them, smoochy faces puppies, and speaks to bumble bees*

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo


(Photo by Anna Guerrero on Pexels.com)
(or listen here)

It has been a long time, my friends. A long time since a regular gathering. We used to host a lot at our home because of the generous garden lawn yard wood area we were lucky to become caretakers for. It’s the empirical “we” now of course. Back in the sweet baby times, we had people over regularly – potlucks and such plus hosting a little in-house concert here and there.

Then everything changed (you know).

Friends still popped in to check on us. The brave ones who understood we might need to leave in a moment’s notice. I don’t know how they stomached it, but they did and I am eternally grateful to my real life guardian angels!

Then everything changed again (MotherHerisme).

Friends were less able to visit as things were very uncomfortable with MotherHerisme’s decline and addition of her two unsocialized dogs.

Then everything changed again again (COVID).

At my back gate, friends gathered things like the masks or food I made for them, and left things like treats, cards, and helpful groceries, all waving through windows. Friends stopped in to visit out on the deck a handful of times.

And now things are changing again (GET THE VACCINES, y’all, and come over red rover!).

Years ago I wrote a requested piece about gathering. It was intended for a project which never come to fruition, so I will share it with you now (if you’d like). Some of this may sound familiar to you and especially to you 😉

Coven Summons/ Gathering of the Coven/Love Notes to the Gathering Coven

Why do we gather?  We gather for a need to connect.  Spiritual, informative, accidental, intentional, mutually beneficial, one-sided lead or received, humans gather by instinct.  The need to connect is as important to our survival as the other Maslow defined basic needs (food, shelter, clothing).  The specific gathering of women with purpose has its own unique historical moniker – a coven.  

Oftentimes it is not clear if you have summoned a coven, or if they have summoned you.  But it always clear when a coven has been summoned.  And once summoned, they will arrive.

There is the Inveterate Optimist, with her classical profile and porcelain skin.  She flows headily and steadily, never overly rushed or too slowly, full of deep bold richness, intelligence, and wisdom with definite undertones (pouring into overtones, never monotones) of giggling wit.  She is the finest of eternal smooth wines which never spoil even with limitless uncorkings. 

The Gleeful Striking Red-Haired Beauty, tumbling over with energetic fun.  Her eyes swim, flooded in spirit-filled sparkles and lively joy, which then crescendos and spills through her soul landing sweet soothing music onto all around her.  She magically soothes even the roughest of moments into smooth soul-shines.

The Earth Mother-in-Training, -in-Learning, -in-Exploring, -in-Experiencing.  In all her abundant curiosity, wrapped in fringed laced compassion and flower adorned boots.  She is tolerantly pleased fullness sprinkled with liberal acceptance on many fronts.  She turnips the beet.

The Commanding Brunette, orchestrating lives, rivaling the most famous conductors and composers.  She feels the essence vibrations of those who exist in her presence, which call out and project an all-encompassing vigor from her soul.  She shows up at the most difficult moments with her own popcorn pot and supplies at the ready.  She instinctively protects without inhibition.  

The Centering Pivot, a powerful healer of communities and individuals through physical and spiritual connectedness.  Her soft glowing curls and gentle inclusiveness spread validating joy like a million gentle rainbow-filled dewdrops on bountiful lavish lilac blooms, every day. She sees everything with and beyond the eye, then reflects truth whether difficult or elevating.

The Artist, mixing quantities of chaos into beauty and societal commentary.  Her prolific layering reveals unique constantly changing depths.  She has an eye for revealing the beauty and secrets of contemplative sadnesses.  She allows freedom through creative acceptance.  

The Dedicated Spiritual Vegan, organizes, researches, schedules, plans, lists, cleans, and is constantly vigilant about being organized, true to self, precise and neat.  Her disciplined, tirelessly researched approach, out logics all others.  She encourages truth exploration.

The Muse (ician) a heavenly vision, by ear and by eye.  She is able to pull soul soothing magic out of her instrument and have you feel as if its dulcet wave vibrations were brought forth just for you in that moment of stopped time.  Her belief in the divineness of souls dictates her movements.  She is an inspirer of mindful musical dreams.

The un-Manic Pixie spreads thoughtful dedicated glittery fun wherever she goes.  She is small in stature, but larger than any mountain in purpose.  Her multilingual multicultural multitasking manner instantly charms.  She is a shimmery bubbly example of life-enjoyment. 

The Pianist Preacher uses her artful words and lifestyle to gently, but firmly, coax everyone’s butterfly out of their chrysalis/cocoon/caterpillar/sticky-egg forms.  Her hearth is warmed with enough generous spirit, that she is able to nurture cocoons into existence for you.  She is a mighty leader of growth paths.

The Realist Sage Grandmother has a sturdy presence and a rocking chair surrounded by her gatherings of wisdom, love, support, and toys based on her consideration of the unique soul presenting itself to her.  Her attic room is full of inviting mysteries and fun.  She is accepting, forgiving, guiding and present.

The Receivers open their eyes, ears, minds, hearts, and souls to the most awful of revelations, without harsh judgement or problem-solving instruction.  One might open you to aromatics, another to black garlic and walking, and a third to somatic experiences for healing.  They are comfort experts at witnessing soul pains, at holding space for grief, at making space for acceptance and recovery, over and over and over again.

The Mercenary Athena with perfect posture, stands proudly, head above the crowd.  She is always calculating every possible front, vulnerability, and potential moves on the massive chessboard of life.  She knows the game and strategies better than anyone else because she works hard at her practice.  She has the wisdom of experience and the strength of intelligence.

The Columbian, the Russian and the Nurse are steadfast in their natures.  They know exactly who they are, what they bring to the coven and their own sense of how and when to share their gifts and insights.  They are passionate truth live-ers.  They are passionate truth tellers.  They are a team of mutually uplifting dependable reciprocal support.

The Teacher is also steadfast in her nature, knows herself well, and is a passionate truth live-er and truth tell-er.  She differs from the previous group in that she leans more toward self-reliance in being uplifted and supported.  She depends on her own strengths and knowledge, energizing others to do the same.

The Live-Out-Louders with their effervescent souls bubbling out of their eyes. They laugh louder, curse bolder, uninhibitedly consume in their Bacchus-ness. They emit energy forces wherever they go, casually dropping bits of zesty sparks for others to gather and use.  They have enthusiasm and ideas to spare.

The Scientist drifts in and out depending on the intensity and interest of current study.  She anticipates, hypothesizes, and acts accordingly, primarily without expectation (except for expectations of self), driven by curiosity of results.  She is able to see things from angles others are blind to.  

The Militant Montessorian uncompromisingly shows up every single day to certify that her vision for development, growth, and knowledge are implemented without restraint.  She is reliably constant in her approach, rendering resistance occasionally satisfyingly futile. 

The Inspirer instigates and does things that others only dream about doing.  She is open and generous with her ideas and deep interest encouragement of others.  She has a free spirit which is always open and up for adventure.

The Serendipitous Tasker arrives only in those rare moments when planets, stars and entire galaxies align in singular perfect order.  She is by far, the most hard-working, efficient, independent, self-initiating and focused.  Laundry will be absolutely done to perfection, meals will be cooked, dishes cleaned, tires rotated, papers shredded, complicated puzzled completed, gardens weeded, sled runs sledded.  She works stealthily until every known and unknown task is truly utterly complete.

The Real Mothers are complicated.  They exude myopic power, are fiercely protective, yet limited by their own self-absorbed encouragement.  They have infinite love for their own which sometimes leaves no compassion or love for others.  They are the keepers of our histories and our futures, with a warm meal waiting.

The Mirrors spend their time reflecting the least attractive and most disappointing qualities in ourselves. Sometimes a mirror reflects so much more than we want to see.  We don’t always like being around them and they don’t always like being around us.  They are necessary parts of the coven for their reflective role.  Just as we are necessary mirrors in other covens as we, in all our humanness, inevitably reflect the same onto others.

The Men.  Some men are important in the coven, not as members, but as supporters of the gatherings.  These men are working hard to put things in order for the coven.  They are the fitters of partA into partB with toolXYZ.  They are the forager supporters of undiscovered paths.  They are the one solution to one problem and done-ers.  They are the holders of things, the vulnerable strength behind the determined strength.  They are the models of inherent unquestionable self-worth and unwavering self-determined boundaries. They fortify the coven to experimentally mold, artfully shape, and to use their covenly transformative powers to whatever end their summons asks of them.

Mr. SonHerisme, sweetly innocently sleeping next to me will one day weave through, around, deeply entrenched and wholeheartedly critically supportive of different coven gatherings, all on his own.  It is his burden and his supreme privilege.  

These women, these people, and so many more in the larger outlying concentric rings of my coven, keep me alive, have kept me alive in my most trying traumatic times.  My own coven called itself forth and rose into action long before I understood what tsunamis had spun into my world. Many lifetimes of “thank you,” would still be lacking in expression of my gratitude.  I soulfully reach out to and embrace each of you with a universe of love and support on your life paths xoxo

Thank you for reading/listening and all of that. I appreciate you.

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo

Lead Hook, Right Jab

(Both Members of This Club – George Bellows, NGADC East Building)
(or listen here)

Rear Uppercut, Lead Uppercut, Left Cross, Right Cross, Rear Uppercut and DOWN

This is how it works, n’est-ce pas?

My second jab of the vaccine has been received by my upper right arm. Jib-jab tallywab. It hurt like a very hurting burn mf’er pain going in, and had me down from hour 7 to hour 40. It was weird feeling so ill after a blissful 15 months of no illness. Update. Hour 73: Currently continuing to experience redness, very hard, sore, tender, hot lump at the injection site, and all of the emotions with SonHerisme’s #1 coming up next week.

Because of my history of the cancers, Moderna won the esteemed honor of shooting through my body with it’s superpowers of viral defenses. SonHerisme’s age group will be bringing him the Almighty Powers of the Pfizer Jab! (insert superhero musical transition music ala Batman circa 1960-somethings). WonderJab Powers Activate! Form of virus-obliterating liquids! Shape of intense micro-needle lightening strike! (more earnestly triumphant superhero transition music montage thingy)

K A P O W    
Y O W Z A      
B L A M O    
S O C K O    
W A P  (no, not that last one, sorrys!)

We will both be feeling contemplation about our injection microevolution transformation like a polymerization worth a congratulation plus a tiny celebration for this superelevation! You?

You’re welcome. I’ll be here very occasionally with other assorted nonsense (unless there is a manifestation of malabsorption or viral transmutation and such reverberation causing mortification inducing self conservation for a hawt minute). SuperHeros and -tion word run-ons TGIF.

At some point in the far away times of being in my late-twenties, I was asked to meet my family at the TGIF’s restaurant in the outer suburbs of our mid-western city. We were all living in different areas around the city, and the TGIF’s was located in a sort-of midway point. We were getting together on a Friday. Friday night dinner, at a TGIF’s at a midway point in the outer suburbs of a midwestern city with my family… I made it to the parking lot, parked and had a complete meltdown in the car and never made it inside. I just could not handle the reality of my life in that moment.

If you haven’t ever been to a TGIF’s restaurant, I’ll give you a brief snapshot. If you have been and you enjoy it (or you love it – how? don’t answer that), maybe skip this part. TGIF’s = Thank Goodness It’s Friday. First of all, no to the acronym. How depressing is that? Secondly, when you walk into the door, the piped music is BLARING LOUD rendering any communication to either the shouting version or directly into the ear hot breath whisper talking version. The in-the-ear stuff might be fun with a flirty person, but not with family and not with the music. Most of the seating is booth seating – again potential fun with a date, not with adult family. The sticky menu is about 40 jillion pages long with maybe 1 item I can eat without serious ramifications – it’s the plain salad for $20. I forgot to tell you that before you are seated in your squishy booth with your novella menu, you must be on a waiting list and stand outside with a light-up buzzer to wait your turn to be seated because they are always ALWAYS busy (pre-COVID, of course). The smell of bleach and over-used grease permeates the air, completing the ambiance of this nightmare dining experience (for me). All of the staff wear an abundance of pin-on novelty buttons to promote the “FUN, FUN, FUN” of TGIF’s. I just could not. I just cannot. This was/is not for me.

I kind of sound like a bitch. Maybe I’m the asshole – probably I am *sigh.* That’s okay. I will add that if it was just one of those issues above, I’d still like to go out to dinner sometime. But all of those things? No, thank you. I’d rather meet you in the park with a thermos of noddles and bottle of something yummy from my own house – even if we’re frenemies. I just cannot with TGIFriday’s on a Friday in the midwestern suburbs. Stop frying 40 pages of everything and then scrambling our brains with loud music so that we think we can eat that and like it.

Perhaps I am still feeling sensitive today from the vaccine?

Or, maybe it’s the grandpa/dad man from the park yesterday. Scenario? Me sitting in the park on a lovely afternoon with two other mommas while our sweet Montessori Mafia kiddos scramble around the park using anything and everything for their wild adventures. Ages range from 13yrs old-5yrs old. It is very bittersweet as some of us who started out bringing our tiny little babes, are about to say goodbye with our 12/13yr olds aging out of free-spirited inclusive imaginative park play. My giant sweet SonHerisme baby puffin bear (12) helping little puffin bears kick soccer balls, reach high branches in trees, jump over large rocks, and study pollywogs in the run-off water pipe drains (ewwww – but they love it!). Passing on the fun to be had at the park, just as those older kids did with him when he was one of the tiniest.

I got lost for a minute, apologies. I’m sitting at the park with two momma friends when the grandpa/dad man arrived with two of his grandchildren, who both ran off to join the Montessori Mafia. He then came over to join us in the shade. He is a big talker who jumped right in with his big talking. During the conversation, he looks around at the three of us and said, “Old is relative. You guys are all young to me.” And then he looked directly at me and said, “Even you’re kind of young to me.” And he was serious. Not joking. No hahahahahaha. Just a “you look fucking unattractive, lady,” kind of thing.

I’m not sure if you’re a regular reader of my blog or have caught on that my self esteem is, well, challenged. This situation was not helpful in that regard. It’s so hard to not take things personally. To distance from the words and remember that they reflect on him more than they do on anything else, including me. But, damn y’all.

I wanted to say, “dude, do you think I don’t have a birth certificate or mirrors and you need to enlighten me? Fuck you for thinking that I should hear your opinion about what I look like, and for being rude about my appearance.”

What I said, “Well, on that note, we have to go to violin lessons. See y’all next time.”

Just to be clear – I KNOW WHAT I LOOK LIKE. I also know how old I am compared to others. Fucking hells

I’m sure I’ll be okay. I mean, I have been told worse, of course. It still hurts even though I do not want it to.

Some days/hours/minutes are superhero days/hours/minutes, and some days/hours/minutes feel like having been punched out.

Huzzah for inoculation jabs! Boo to asshat remarks on someone’s appearance.

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo


Don’t worry, I don’t think we have a TGIF in my current town. Anyway, we’re having post-soccer pizza dinner at home tonight.

The Bellows piece above is one of SonHerisme’s favorites at NGADC. It isn’t currently on display, but I am not going to tell him until we visit after he is fully vaccinated. He likes other things there too – but this Bellows tops his list!

Good luck, SuperVaccinators!

Jib-jab ciao.


(Photo by Karolina Grabowska on Pexels.com)
(or listen here)

Hello out there!

We had a few power outages over this past week. One of which lasted a little over 7 hours. All of the people and the pets are fine. The refrigerated food was not fine. After a huge grocery shop and cooking extravaganza, including a vat of potato salad, having to toss much of everything, except medications and fresh fruits/veg, my brain and my arms were sad. I actually thought I was getting ahead last week after the week-prior’s turmoils.

Oh? What happened the week prior? SonHerisme’s therapist facilitated phone call with his father. It really threw SonHerisme off this time. His sleep was disturbed, his schoolwork was disturbed, his usual patterns of relaxation and play were disturbed.

SonHerisme constantly amazes me with his strong soul and kind heart. He was generous and gentle with his father. He was articulate and patient with the therapist. But it did take a toll on my tiny sweet puffin giant newborn almost teenager bear man boy. He is fine. We are fine. Just a tiny derailment. He is the most and best and favorite person in the world to me with his super resilient super gentle soul.

I am the luckiest momma, because he just came that way. Like a super special order! In a way he was a special order. He is an IVF baby because I was aging and not getting pregnant.

At the time I did not know, or could not comprehend, MrexH was tracking my cycle for years, specifically so that I would not get pregnant. It’s so wacky to even know this truth today especially considering that I was very upfront that my reasons for formally partnering had everything to do with making a family. I wanted 3, 4, 5, 6 kids in a partnership with one parent primarily at home until everyone was in school. My openness about this topic has been well known since… at least high school, maybe longer (?). Not everyone I encountered was into talking about family planning at 16 lol. Some people want to be doctors, or get into an ivy league school. I have never really cared about what job I’ve had or what degree I earned, as long as it could get me a decent income in order to afford having a family. Note to self – this approach did not work out, so pivot next lifetime. For those irl who have said, “oh, but you have time, you never know!” Trust me, I am, not being an outlier Frenchwoman, well out of time (despite having my period atm), and I am not partnered in any sense of partnering.

I have been asked multiple times by different professionals about my marital sex life, and how I didn’t catch on to what what happening. I didn’t even know part of what was happening was marital rape, much less tracking of my cycles. bonus note: when you’re going through an intense divorce involving domestic violence and custody issues, all of your everything will be considered topical open discussions for everyone in every detail. This is of the awkwards y’all, even if you are a disassociator of the highest powers. Trust me, avoid it by not getting into an abusive relationship, ever never ever ever ever.

My job now is to get SonHerisme onto the most solid footing I can for his adulting times. I am trying y’all, I am. It seems like I need to break the passing on of generational traumas. I do not know how to do that, but I am working on it. I am running out of time, of course, but still trying. I do not have any plans after that. Throw something my way and I’ll see if it sticks.

Another thing to share (and far from tmi – no worries!), is my time issue. For my entire adulting time I have set my clocks to different times in different rooms, including the car. Not hipster cool different time zones, like it’s always Paris time in the shower and Japan time on the sofa. More like, exactly like – same time zone that I live in plus usually fast by 7 minutes, 13 minutes, 17 minutes or some other number requiring extra brain maths to get to the actual time.

Somehow I got sick of all of the time warping between rooms after multiple power outages and resets, that all of my clocks, including the car, are now set to real actual time. Good job, me. Time Warp (not) again! Poor SonHerisme has been asking me to do this ever since he could read a clock. He finally got his wish but made himself late to the soccering practice because he thought he still had 13 minutes to get to the car. Sweet silly bear.

Have you ever tried to rush to put on those sportsing compression soccer socks when your feet have been running and sweating in other socks all day and you’re in a super rush because your mom changed the clocks so you don’t even know what time it is and how late you’re going to be? That was an almost massive meltdown. I tried Eckhart Tolle-ing him up with, “let’s take a deep breath and act AS IF we have chosen to be late and accept the present as it is.” “MOM YOU CHANGED THE CLOCKS!” “I am living in this present moment as if I have chosen it with you.” “MOM, UGH-A!” Teenage time is upon us fuh reals.

I am keeping the clocks on real time. I need it now. One more step to something. The goat king still rules down the street, though. But I am hearing rumors of the excommunicated pig court planning on staging a coup to eliminate the goat king and goat court to insert their own king. The flock remains neutral as it is taking all of their energies to survive Mr. Fox’s advances and supply both courts with food and nutrient rich soil. Maybe they grow thyme down there and could spare some for me. I am already living on a large borrowed amount…

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo

Straight Buggin’

(Imperfect Colorful Life)
(or listen here)

There are a zillion little life reminders around right now as the seasons push for the final changeover from quiet sloshity cold Winter to zippy buzzy growy mowy movin’ grovin’ Spring!

Carpenter bees buzz around my al fresco lunch to say, “howdeedo,” and prepare me for their upcoming territorial arguments.

Giant ants tippy tapped across the floor emboldened by the weather and smell of puppy food to explore new areas of abundance for their colony.

Carpet beetle made it’s shiny patent presence known by traipsing across my eyelid while I rested(ugh).

Wolf spider creepy crawled around the bathtub thoroughly confused by it’s slippery trapped predicament (I rescued it bc spiders are helpers).

Wasps, determined to build waspy dwellings in places that do not work for this human, become bewildered and enraged when their hard work is once again displaced (by me).

Chipmunk family is reorganizing itself for better protection from black snake family by moving up the hill a bit underneath a different clump of rocks and thorn bushes.

Salamander, displaced by deck furniture rearrangement, is wriggling around the edge of the moist mossy rocky path.

Bumble bee is very extroverted and wants to follow us around like a little happy puppy when we walk outside.

Barred owl hoot boot hoots the Bat signal that it is time to twitter flitter out and about.

Honey bee is more interested in finding the tasty bits and remaining unencumbered by any socialization expectation while questing (or they will sting – yikes!)

Hawk is laughing with buddies while circling and practicing hunting swoops.

Mourning Doves are hooting their gentle sounds of soul love tinged with sadness knowing its depth but also brevity.

Blue Jay is blue jaying up the place screaming and being very yelly loud.

Butterfly is fluttering this way and that way to avoid the wasps but also enjoy the lilac bush too (the extra large creepy wasps nest there).

Squirrel is relaxed, waiting for things to ripen, knowing that they do not need to worry about food for another season.

Bobcat is staying hidden, only leaving bits of evidence that a meal has been somewhat enjoyed, interrupted, then returned for clean up. Because they are very precise with how they kill and eat, you know they’ve visited.

Deer is birthing the fawns and I expect we will see some deposited in the front woods for safety while mommy eats all day. Occasionally there are twins!

Turkey is gobbling, running and short-burst flying up and down the rocky hillside, protecting babies and avoiding the foxes.

Crow is hanging with the murder doing the caw-caw things.

Black bear has wandered farther up the mountains because 6 new homes in the area have displaced their family.

Rabbit is hippity hopping from one protected area to another, hiding babies in soft deep grasses.

Skunk is bumbling about, drunk on skunk life things and absorbed in its own skunk thinking world.

Fantastic Mr. Fox is prowling about by the fields, avoiding Boggis, Bunce and Beans for sure, yet always finding tasty morsels of a little something here and there, plus libation to wash it all down nicely while waiting for Mr. Jeremy Fisher (in his waistcoat).

I hope that you are finding some interesting observations in your springtime.

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo

When SonHerisme was a smaller human riding in the back seat in his sweet blue booster carseat, I would point out into one of the large fields we passed on our way home from some adventurous excursion and say:

"Look out there!  Do you see a giraffe(or lion, elephant, whatever animal we surely would not see out there)?!?"  
SonHerisme would look this way and that way, "No, I don't see it, Momma."  
"Me either, baby puffin bear.  I guess we'll keep looking for other things." 

"Look over there!  Do you see the goats?!?"
So excited, SonHerisme would say, "I do! I do, Momma!  I do see the goats!!!"
"Me too, sweet bear, me too."

ps. I would also ask him crazy questions on the way home from school:

Did the elephants come to school that day so that they could learn about how to care for elephants and keep an elephant healthy and safe?
Was he able to help the lost group of magicians find their way back to magician school?
Did the parade people come and ask their help to get the floats ready for the big parade?
What did he get to do to help with the zebra train that was taking the zebras back to their homes? 
How did he help save the school from all those pirates running around?
And if none of this happened at school that day, wasn't he bored and what was the point of going to school?

Holy shitballs y’all, that kid is going to need therapy. Straight Buggin’

Also – what a fucking relief to leisurely review what our president said to congress last night. In honor of that and International Dance Day, enjoy this!

Disco Inferno

(my photo, my words)
(or listen here)
Once upon a time she was too exhausted 
to put out everyone else's fires.  
So she let their fires burn.  
She let every. 

Burn, baby, burn (*roller skates away*)

Last night I took SonHerisme out for a post-tennis milkshake at our favorite little ice cream parlor housed in an old red barn just off of the highway near the school of equitation he attends. (oooh, so fancy pantsy) It had been a hot day after many cool-cold days (helloooo Spring) and the parking lot was crowded. They’re only open for outside ordering/eating atm all COVID style. The line to place orders was quite short, so we stayed.

When it was our turn, SonHerisme ordered his medium barn shake, no cherry yes whipped cream. I ordered small twist in a cup for myself, making a swirl twist motion with my hand when ordering because that’s how I do, and a small cappuccino crunch in a cup for MotherHerisme who will otherwise cry if we arrive home without a treat for her (she’s diabetic with an open wound, just go with the flow people).

At some point SonHerisme and I realized that our order must be misplaced or lost. After a 45 minute wait, and most people arriving after us having been served, we had yet to receive our order. I approached the pickup window and told the harried working teenager that I believe our order to be lost. After some back-and-forthing between the order window teen, the order preparing teens, and the pick-up window teen, our order was made and brought to the pick-up window.

Those scrambling teens did not make our order correctly. The pick-up window teen’s face when she realized this, immediately fell from focused get-the-job-done, into exhausted frustration. “I’ll remake everything! I can give you these muffins as an apology! I’m so sorry!” Ohmigoodness, how are we this stressed out over ice cream? Sweet teenager working a long line at the country ice cream parlor. I looked her in the eyes and said, “I’ll take what you made for us. It’s going to be okay. The moon is in Scorpio and you are going to be okay. Thank you for the ice cream.”

This is the level of, “I don’t give a fuck, it should just be whatever it is” I reached in that moment.

Night before last, SonHerisme was asked to speak with his father again, facilitated by the parenting coordinator. This is the third time since July. History: SonHerisme has not seen MrexH since the first week in September 2014. He has received a handful of cards/letters over the years, recently starting a reintroduction over the phone July 2020. It is awkward, difficult, emotional, upsetting and just … a lot for SonHerisme. For me? I cannot even think about it really. Disassociation for the win!

SonHerisme approaches this like an unpleasant chore which has to be done. He was articulate, kind, wise, and carefully gentle with his father and I am so proud of him. SonHerisme wanted me to sit next to him throughout the entire phone call and I reached the level of, “fuck it all,” and I did it. Even when MrexH suggested he would be coming to take SonHerisme to a professional sportsing event. Even when the parenting coordinator asked MrexH the icebreaker, “if you could travel anywhere would you go by airplane, boat or train,” and I knew MrexH would answer, “train,” and he did. This makes my stomach hurt right now just thinking about it.

BTW, the sportsing event thing is not happening for reasons, at least while SonHerisme is still a child. Also, the train travel is highly unlikely as well. It is all just extremely awful and sad.

Prior to SonHerisme’s phone call with MrexH, the parenting coordinator spoke with me about how SonHerisme was doing, how he was feeling about the conversations with his father etc. I did not really know what to say and I am too tired to keep trying to figure things out, so I responded, “It is awkward and uncomfortable, which it will be until it isn’t or it will stay awkward and uncomfortable and that is just what it is. I’m not really clear how how to define it any better other than to say that all I can do is to be there to help SonHerisme work through his emotions and show up when he is able, however he is able to do so.” The parenting coordinator responded that my response reminded her of Radical Acceptance.

Perhaps instead of, “fuck it,” I should be saying, “despite everything screaming at me to try and take control to move towards an alternative, I radically accept this.”

I have been talking to myself about showing myself some radical compassion… maybe this is it. I do not know. I cannot tell the difference between disassociatingly ignoring the things or accepting the things… is this the Zenness or the summoning of the Lunaticing? Is radical acceptance a fancy way of becoming a door mat to or elevated with life? Do I even care?

RADICAL ACCEPTANCE y’all. I’m ’bouts to radical laundry, radical lunch MotherHerisme, and radical post stuff for my kid’s school events (I gots the responsibilities, yo).

Or, let the fuckening begin… Whatev’s… girl is on fire… burn, baby, burn – disco inferno! We probably all need a little burning to clear space from these constantly shifting tectonic plates of life in order to reach something to ground us. You?

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo

ps I may have mentioned this, but in case I only thought about and never did: SonHerisme told me he was very upset and worried the other day because I seem to be using very strong curse words a lot and he does not like it. He further explained that while I may have grown up in a house where awful language was used regularly, he did not, and he would appreciate it if I could be more careful with my words. WTF kids are so weirdo Also, I will do my best to use kinder language around him. But here I can say the awfuls lol fuck it

Hybrid SoMo

Behold the Soccering
(or listen here)

I am a soccer, tennis, riding, violin, hiking, trampolining, biking, chessing mom who drives a hybrid with two car magnets on the back. PSA: my brake light is out and, no, I do not carry jumper cables.

Hybrid because when I purchased the car in 2007 I wanted a Prius, but was expecting twins (one survived! *SonHerisme enters center stage through the small undetected trap door*), so I compromised with a larger hybrid car and that is that. This makes me a Hybrid SoMo on soccer days. I have spoken. This is the way.

Yesterday was such a day. Glorious, jacket-still-required sunny, and soccer game a-callin’. One of SonHerisme’s teammates got stuck at home when her mother’s car wouldn’t start and dad was out of town. We gladly picked them up to carpool to the game. Which, in hindsight, we should’ve arranged anyway because the game was a good 20/30 minutes away in a little town in the Catoctin Mountain Range. (we were masked with flowing fresh air, judgementors)

Oh – are you not familiar? Have you ever heard of Camp David? The occasional three mighty helicopter parade gliding across the valley and up the mountain range to the meetings of the deciders of the things? Yes, that Camp David! (oh, there you are, Peter! This is, btw, what I say every time I peek-a-boo at my stats and it shows readers from the UK. Hello and Welcome to you, Peter! special xo to you!) At least now we are no longer deeply cringing and frantically scrolling through Twitter to figure out what freakish hellscape narrative an orange cringtastic moron has incanted into being. But, I digress. Where were we? Oh, yes, soccering… carpooling… the things of the mommies with the busy childrens. Also, racism.

I did not want to go to this soccer game. I prayed for rain – which was supposed to happen, and did happen but not to the extent of causing the game to be cancelled. In talking to other soccer parents, I was not alone in not wanting to go to this particular soccer game.

The area of our county hosting that soccer game is a known hotbed of KKK leadership, rallies and general overt racism. No one wants to go up there, except to go to the State Park and then leave. Proud Confederate flag flying is abundant in this area. It has gorgeous natural scenery dotted with racist tropes and racist attitudes.

Our sweet soccer team is co-ed and most definitely represents our country/city being multi-racial. No token person of color, rather the majority of the team are not white. I hadn’t thought about it before now because I am in a privileged position to not be forced to think about it most of the time. I am white. SonHerisme is very light skinned most of the time. The potential consequences of our co-ed multi-racial team heading into a KKK dominant town to play a game of soccer, became very real yesterday.

Meandering up the sloping altitudes to the game, our carpool companions expressed concern about going to the game (Dominican background). The conversation went something like this:

She:  Why did you say you aren't looking forward to the game?  Is the team really tough to beat?
Me:  I don't know anything about the team.  I just really do not like this area.
She:  It is pretty up here.  Why don't you like it?
Me:  The people in general seem to be unwelcoming to outsiders and I just do not feel comfortable here.
She:  Oh, wait.  Is this about them being racists here?
Me:  Yes.
She:  I heard about that and the KKK.  Yeah, that's not good.  
Me: No.
She:  Well, we'll see what happens.  I wish the game was cancelled too. I guess I shouldn't try to buy a house up here!
Me:  I just cannot imagine what it feels like being a person of color around all of this knowing how uncomfortable I am as a white person.  I am so sorry.
She:  Yeah, it is weird and uncomfortable. 

At the game, our team parents sat in the same general area. At the far end of the park, beyond the soccer field, there was a playground. One of the younger soccermate siblings wanted to play on the playground. At first his mother okayed it, then I saw her take a quick look around and call her son back to her. She turned to two of us and said, “I forgot it isn’t safe for us here. He can’t go by himself.” They are people of color. They know.

After the game, SonHerisme told me there were two kids in the pre-game team huddle near to tears with anxiety over playing with racists and how they might be treated or get in trouble for touching them.

These conversations are so very uncomfortable, but also so desperately necessary. I was unsure how to step into this, but it happened and I am so glad to get this uncomfortable topic rolling.

I do not want to be a part of sitting on my privilege while my neighbors are suffering. I am awkward. I am VERY awkward. I will keep trying to do this hard thing of opening up to difficult uncomfortable conversations in the interest of humane compassionate action.

I am writing a letter to the soccer league requesting that we no longer travel to that area for games. It is too much to ask people to go to a space where they are overtly discriminated and othered. This is my anti-racist activity today.

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo

ps It is a Monday kind of Tuesday in a million ways including that I wore a shirt with a pencil eraser sized hole strategically placed on the top of my right nipple… I’m sure it’s fine. Where did I wear this shirt? All around Georgetown. I’m fine. I’m sure it’s fine. Black fitted shirt, nude bra, not cutsie small bust – it’s all fine. Moon’s in Scorpio y’all. I’m fine.


(or listen here – 7:27 baby!)

I occasionally run my dear sweet friend through the ringer with all of the self loathings. It is only recently that I have decided to attempt a new tactic of just allowing it to be without judgement on it. I loathe things about myself? Okay, they are loathsome then. This does not mean the absence of lovely somewhere too. Or hope. I do have hope for SonHerisme, hope for humanity, hope for friends, family etc. For my personal self? Meaning=yes. Hope=nope. F it – carrying on.

Once upon a time, she sent this to me:

(it is not my writing and I do not know to whom I should attribute these wise words)

Everything that has happened along the way - forget it
Forget about the first love that broke your heart.
And forget about that last break too.
Forget the time a friend you thought was best pushed a knife in your back.
Forget the words and the spite that resound in your head.
Forget the trauma that injured your flesh or your bones.
Forget the rejection you felt when someone failed to recognize your value.
Forget the tears that cleansed your soul.

Forget the mistakes that everyone makes.
Forget what you gave without return.
Forget the mistrust, the resentment and the jealousy.
Forget about the lies, betrayal and deceit.
Forget about the ones that got away - they were not meant.
Forget the time someone tripped you and caused a fall.
Forget the times you gambled but forgot you could lose.

Forget about the whispers and gossips and stories - it is all an illusion; the truth only lives in oneself.
Forget about rules and regulations - make new.
Forget about thinking - let the mind sit still.
Forget about time - let your heartbeat decide.
Forget about fear, it will paralyze - it is useless.
Forget about perfection, it is unobtainable - imperfection is true beauty.
And forget about forgetting - allow the release to happen. Naturally.

Then, try as you can to remember this...
Everything is already a part of you: the lessons have been learned, the memories etched, and the effects have sunk in.

There is no need to hold on - it all already exists, so allow it. 
Let it just be. 
Without grasping.
Without pressing repeat.
It all had a purpose, once, long ago.  Even if it was yesterday or a minute ago - it has now passed.

So just breathe... and breathe again.
Right here. Right now.

You are alive.
You survived.
In this very moment, this one... here...
You can choose.
Choose to live.
Begin again. And begin to feel alive.
Everything and nothing and all in between - feel it all.
Flushing through your veins - let it in, let it sit and then let it go.

Slowly, but very surely, replace all of the forgotten with all of the new.
Add to it, mix to it, blend whoever you were, who you are now, with who you are about to become.
Alchemy - turn it to gold.
Turn you.
It is easy. 
All of you.
Every part.

Stir the storms with the rainbows, the pleasure with the pain.
Forget the old.  Sprinkle in new.
Moonlit skies.
Have Faith.
Don't look far.
It is there.
It always was, always has been.
Right there, right here, right now.
Be free.

And each time you are overwhelmed, or hurt, or angry, or in pain - 
go back to the top, read once more, unlearn, forget, and begin again.

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo

ps.  I carried a print out of this with me for a very long time, only taking it out of my purse when we took our last pre-COVID trip to NYC mid-February 2020.  I always wonder if we participated in the spread since it was already taking a broad foothold in NYC by then and we were a merry troop at a large conference of other merry troopers...  Actually, I do not wonder, I feel like I know we were.  Apologies to you, world.  Once we knew, we have done better. #carryonhealthwarriors


(dandelions are my favorite! – pic BBC)
(or listen here)

A Goddess. Born of Chaos. When Chaos receded, Gaia was lonely. She was so very lonely that she created a partner for herself, which ended very, very, very badly (insert Greek Mythology tales here or listen to Stephen Fry!).

Gaia, you and I, we’ve got some things in common! Let’s both pinkie promise make better choices.

Today, though – today is YOUR day. Today is Earth Day. Let’s celebrate you!


to you today, and all of the days

I think that I am addicted to being outside and I like it.

My body moves differently now because of the things that happen when bodies are prone to things happening. But I still want to be in that wild wind, hot sun, pouring rain, snowy tundra, moonlit, starry glowy place.

SonHerisme and I built an outdoor sofa for lounging about without disturbing wasps, beetles, snakes and mosquitoes or the upcoming cicada insanity.

We are planting Eastern Redbuds this year and inching towards being charming hive minders. Native things to protect our bit of sweet Earth where we are temporary guardians.

Happy Earth day, Earthlings! How are you celebrating Earth or honoring Gaia?

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo

ps. see? Not ALL of my posts are blah blah something is horrible blah blah blah. Upcoming Goat King post will also not be depressing (fingers crossed!)

Difficult to Believe (no know)

(pic me, *sigh* words also, me)
(or listen here)

They say biggity jiggity doo doo, and I believe it because they said it. I know that they know because I am in the know of knowing the things needed knowing about because they told me I know what they know. And now, thanks to me, you know too. What you do with this grandiose knowledge I have magnanimously bestowed upon you, is up to you. Exclusively fyi, though, you are a complete non if you dismiss what I am telling you that they say and you or anyone else dismissing the knowing of the things they say, deserve the ultimate comeuppance consequences since as I told you, they know and I know that they know because they told me that I am in the real know. Now you do know.

They say that justice was done with the guilty verdict for the police officer.
        They are incorrect.  That was not justice.  That was a spark of accountability only sparking as a result of directed public pressure force. Real time case in point: Ma'Khia Bryant. dammit :,(
They say that if only people comply with the law, the law will keep them safe.
       They are incorrect.  The laws only serve us as well as the people paid to interpret the laws represent us with  humane values.
They say that wearing a mask is stupid because they *have been vaccinated *have antibodies from previously having COVID *masks do not protect us from infection *COVID issues have been blown out of proportion.
       They are incorrect.  Read any ethical reputable epidemiologist's/virologist's/public health professional's positions on COVID and look at the reported statistics (knowing most health statistics under represent public infection rates).

They told us climate change is a hoax. They told us a college degree guaranteed employment. They told us we could be successful if we worked hard enough. They told us that welfare mommies had babies to stay on welfare and watch television all day. They told us that organic food was unnecessary. They told us that buying a $400K house for $360K gave us instant $40K equity.  They told us that looking perfect equated to our personal value and worth. They told us as soon as we drove a new car off of the lot, it instantly decreased in value.  They told us Muslims would kill us if we let them take over the world because we are not Muslim.  They told us that adults did not deserve to have equal rights in choosing a partner/healthcare/adoption.  They told us that birth control was women's problem.  They told us that we needed to get used to putting a penis in our mouths early and often so that we would like it and be ready for when we had to do it as an adult.  They told us that it was a not rape but a duty when you are married. They told us that children should be ignored and forced to be quiet unless spoken to. They told us that having a meticulously manicured lawn was critical.  They told us that everyone deserved a chance to prove their worthiness for healthcare.  They told us so very many things.
       They were incorrect.  
       We also know that, like our forefathers in regards to slavery and the treatment of native Americans, they knew better and deliberately chose over and over again to not do better because they were afraid of sacrificing their own privilege.

From Generation X on down, we have never known a time of given “if you follow the rules” personal economic hope, yet we have carried the burden of responsibility and shame for these tropes. Our lives have been dominated by an overwhelming generation whose defining aspirations blinded them to personal responsibility to humane existence. There is finally a rise of a generation who by numbers alone, will steer the future of humanity. The intense gaslighting and institutionally endorsed inhumane indoctrination of our culture is tough to combat.

So many things to wade through.

As the tide shifts on defining acceptable behaviors for the rising generations, we can either help tip the scales to knowing the truths of things or saying no to humaneness.

In this country, it appears that our voting power is evenly divided on if people should be treated humanely, or if we will give into our indoctrinated fears to justify treating people inhumanly. The tipping could go either way, which is painfully difficult to believe, but so apparent. Progression or Fascism, choose your own adventure!

There is massive swirling of the tides and I want SonHerisme (and all sons/daughters) to be filled with as much resilience and resourcefulness as possible for himself, for his future family, community, country, and world.

F you – you do NOT know this so please stop setting up hope shame!

There is some seriously real crap we need to work on. Hope shaming is counterintuitive WE KNOW THIS – seriously this shit pisses me the frick off almost as much as a discussion on institutionalized food and childcare – GAH! Sometimes shitty things are just shitty and heavy and weighty and better days are not coming. Better moments? YES. Days? Who the fuck knows? My heart is heavy every day for the babies I lost, we’ve lost, and I have zero hope that they will appear or of having another pregnancy, so for the love of G-d, STOP HOPE SHAMING so that we can get to work on naming, owning and correcting/processing/moving through shit (please and thank you).

I am trying y’all. I know that you are trying too. I see/hear you and appreciate you and your efforts! The things I will keep doing are the trying, the day-to-day routine, the positive contributions to my community and home, the naming of the things, and the difficult/easy/painful/fulfilling conversations.

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo

ps maybe it is tmi above… then again, so many of us have been sexually abused as children/adults I often wonder why we are not speaking about it more openly? I mean it is another thing we publicly condone as a society, yet privately and institutionally we pretend it is not happening thereby allowing permission for it to continue… so why isn’t it an open conversation topic? Wondering how it is condoned? That is another post (unless someone else wants to short and sweet it?).

also, things are of the heavy. I feeeeeeel the collective exhaustion and I send the {{{hugs}}}

finally, none of this means that I am not spending time appreciating and being grateful for the lovelies irl

  • smiling moon
  • perseus, leo, gemini visible
  • return of the bats
  • SonHerisme riding, soccer, violin, and tennising up the town (plus academic achievements)
  • dandelions reign supreme
  • a text with link to beloved old timey Harry Connick Jr. song
  • homemade bacon ice cream (for MotherHerisme, as I am a no-bacon lady for the reasons, but it looked very pretty)
  • i read an entire book of adult fiction (WHAT???!!!??? IKR!)
  • windy, sunny, rainy, snowy, hot, cold back-and-forthing Spring weather
  • a hand written marker letter to the goat king down the street (this should be a post!)
  • Vinny Thomas and Kylie Brakeman (twitter that up, y’all)
  • fluffy cozy blankets
  • you xo ciao