Life Among the Never-Winged

Once upon a time I was writing a book called, "Just Another Love Letter", about angels behaving badly. Now I just quietly ask myself each day, "What the hell am I doing?"

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Location: The Rocky Mountain Empire, United States

My friends always knew I was going to hell. My only hope is that God likes good jokes and bad redheads.

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  • Wednesday, March 07, 2007

    Melting Snow

    The first of March, I did the thing I'm supposed to be doing, and wrote about the day that's haunted me, off and on, for 22 years. Really, I didn't think it would make any difference, but it did. I feel better. Much better.


    I'm out of that room now. I keep waiting to slam back into it, but I'm not. I'm getting things done instead. Smiling more. Planting seeds. Feeling good about it.


    D seems to be improving his behavior. We talked to a couple of therapists at school, who say he's fine, just a bit high-strung. I haven't talked about this, but I'll get around to it.


    And I'm doing something insane today and dragging the boyos into work with me. It's a diminishing gig, but I'll take the money while I can.


    Clowncar and lil Hux along with the girlios will be gracing our house this weekend, which is always a reason for celebration. I'll try not to play the part of Hungover Mother this time. (I swear if I ever form an all-girl punk band, I'm calling it Hungover Mother).


    So. My hair's about dry, which means it's time to pile the boyos in the car and go.

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    19 people left me a love letter:

    Blogger Irrelephant wrote in a love letter...

    Glad you're feeling better. It's funny how creation, be it painting, writing, or dipping yourself in blue paint and flinging yourself against strangers in a downtown market can effect surprisingly positive changes in one's life. Brava, Dancy. *S*

    10:41 AM, March 07, 2007  
    Blogger Lucia wrote in a love letter...

    So glad to hear you're out and about and close to dancing (or at least I hope).

    11:57 AM, March 07, 2007  
    Blogger Bud wrote in a love letter...

    I'm glad you got that out of your system. Whatever it was. I hope D-boy is adjusting. My heart always went out to mothers when their kiddos were having a tough time finding their way. I so wanted to fix it for them. Sometimes I could, too.

    Hungover Mother, you have to write some lyrics for a band like that. Really.

    1:20 PM, March 07, 2007  
    Blogger patches wrote in a love letter...

    Glad things are progressing for you Nancy. I knew you could do it. I like Hungover Mother. For maximum laughs, how about Hungover Mama? Mama is like the rubber chicken of matriarchal references. Think "Fat Mama's Knock-You-Naked Margarita Mix." Enjoy your weekend!

    1:23 PM, March 07, 2007  
    Blogger meno wrote in a love letter...

    You're funny!

    Can i play the tamborine and wear too much eyeliner in the Hungover Mamas?

    Glad you are feeling mo' bettah.

    2:09 PM, March 07, 2007  
    Blogger Nancy Dancehall wrote in a love letter...

    Did they let you out again, Ir? ;-) How does YOUR garden grow?

    Very close, Lucia. You'll have to show me how they dance in Rwanda. :-) Glad you're home safe.

    Thanks, Bud. I do feel much better. D is indeed finding his way. We just need a little help guiding him. Can Hungover Mother open for you sometime?

    lol...Hungover Mama's pretty good too. I love your rubber chicken comparison!

    You can have the whole percussion section, Meno! I'm taking lead vocals. I'll start every show with, "Hi I'm Nancy Dancehall and I DON'T HAVE A FUKIN' PROBLEM!"

    3:29 PM, March 07, 2007  
    Anonymous clowncar wrote in a love letter...

    Actually, I think you described yourself as Inert Hostess, and you were delightful, inert or not.

    I think the band name should be Pukin Up Last Night's Fifth of Knob Creek for the Sam the Dog to Nosh On. Though I concede that might not fit on the billboard.

    3:55 PM, March 07, 2007  
    Blogger Schmoopie wrote in a love letter...

    This will work well. Can I be in the band too? I already wear black all the time. You know I'd love to slam several amaretto sours and sing back-up vocals and play some keyboard. Wow!

    Glad you are perking up. Miss you, Pants!

    7:41 PM, March 07, 2007  
    Blogger Scott from Oregon wrote in a love letter...

    Your first single is surely gonna be "Hair of The Dog," but you'll be best know for "PMS ain't got nuthin' on this shit, baby"...

    7:53 PM, March 07, 2007  
    Blogger Nancy Dancehall wrote in a love letter...

    Oh, you are Evil, Clowncar, EEEEEEEEVVVIIIILLLL. (Inert Hostess is one of my side projects.)

    Hell yeah you're in the band, Schmoop! I think we should all wear safety pins with the little plastic teddy bear heads through our ears.

    No, no, Hair of the Bitch is the first single. :-) Punk, remember?

    10:42 PM, March 07, 2007  
    Blogger Popeye wrote in a love letter...

    Ya know, one of the names we come up with for a band I was almost in in high school was "French Fried Angels.". .

    7:04 AM, March 08, 2007  
    Blogger amusing wrote in a love letter...

    Have you checked out "Housewives on Prozac" and their hit singles "Eat Your Damn Spaghetti" and "Mrs. President"

    http://www.housewivesonprozac.com/index.html

    You can shop the fan site for t-shirts that say "Women do not have an expiration date" and "Mom is not my real name" (youcan put on the back, "Nancy Dancehall is")

    9:08 AM, March 08, 2007  
    Blogger Maggie wrote in a love letter...

    Hey I want to be in the band. I can scream really well like Courtney Love, but I don't really play any instruments. That should be perfect for punk right? I could dye my hair neon pink and get my nose pierced like a bull. Rock on!

    Great to hear you are on the upswing!

    9:37 AM, March 08, 2007  
    Blogger Mona Buonanotte wrote in a love letter...

    I'm gonna form a band and we'll open for you...we'll be called, "Drunken Soccer Moms".

    11:30 AM, March 08, 2007  
    Blogger Lisa wrote in a love letter...

    I'm so glad you're out of the Snow-White-esque woods, darling! I hate that place. Sometimes I think it helps to be aware that it will end, but sometimes I don't.

    If you ever start that band, I will beg, borrow, and steal to be included! I, too, am a Hungover Mother on occasion, and would relish sharing that particular flavor of crustiness with the world! We would have to be a death metal band, you realize. heh. Or, like, no instruments and we would whisper the lyrics with our eyes closed and one hand out as if to keep people's voices from hitting us in straight waves...Oh, dearie, oh, darlin', I think those are some lyrics!!!

    I wonder if it's a twin thing or a just-life thing, but I have a twin with some...er...issues...My friend calls him "The intense one" but that's only cuz she doesn't have kids so she just thinks it's cute. It's not cute. But I have found some ways to improve things and grow closer to him in the process, so that's all groovy. I wish you the same.

    7:39 PM, March 08, 2007  
    Blogger Esereth wrote in a love letter...

    Talk about D, talk about pain. Talk talk talk. Makes it better, I think.

    8:29 PM, March 08, 2007  
    Blogger Nancy Dancehall wrote in a love letter...

    These days they'd be Freedom-Fried Angels, right? ;-)

    I have heard of them. Too funny! I love the t-shirt idea.

    Maggie, you're in. I can't wait for our first fistfight over who's supposed to sing what!

    Oh yeah, Mona. And our bands fight like soccer hooligans whenever your set's done and ours is supposed to begin. Catfight!

    Thanks, Lisa. It was beginning to feel more forest and less woods, if you know what I mean. Something deeper.
    I think it's a just-life thing. I think some kids are born 'more intense', (somebody should do a twin study, har)and I think the best we can do is figure out how to work with it.
    Absolutely you're in the band! I love the idea of whispering the lyrics with our hands out -- 'too loud...don't you know my head is pounding...shut the hell up...or you'll get a grounding...hair of the bitch!...Bring mommy her hair of the bitch...'

    It does make it better, Es. Writing is a cure-all. And sometimes I fight it like castor oil.

    10:27 AM, March 09, 2007  
    Anonymous Rudi wrote in a love letter...

    I wanna be your Roadie.

    I wanna be in the mosh pit and catch
    you when you crowd surf. I'm pretty sure Scott and Stucco will join me.
    Plus if Stucco is there and someone
    cops a cheap feel as you are passed overhead I can blame it on him :-).

    The band name stuff is fun but I'm happier to see the first part of
    your post.

    22 years is a long time to shelter a ball of grief. Good for you to take it out into the sunshine, let it air out. The spring breezes will help you knit it into a memory. One that you can wrap around your shoulders like a shawl when you want to hold the memories close. One that you can fold lovingly and
    place in a drawer when you need to
    stretch your arms out and feel the
    sunshine and the breezes on them.

    It will always be there in the drawer with your other favorite things. There to keep you warm,
    let you know you are loved, when you need it.

    7:33 PM, March 10, 2007  
    Blogger Nancy Dancehall wrote in a love letter...

    lol! I'll sign you on. I'll even let you write the, oh, what do they call them; my brain isn't working today -- the demands of the band backstage. Bowls of green M&Ms and things like that. I mean, after writing what you just did...veey beautiful. Thank you. Geez...I'm all flustered!

    2:34 PM, March 12, 2007  

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