My Mountain is Burning

Fuck. I am so pissed off. It’s bad enough that my parents sold the ranch I wanted to inherit two years ago this week; now the Porcupine Ranch fire is eating up all that land I loved and roamed for over a decade. My kids spent their summers hiking through that scrub, they (and I) learned to ride four-wheelers through that beautiful desert. Our place is less than half a mile from the fire and miraculously hasn’t been touched, but all that beautiful land surrounding it is torched. Miner’s Basin and the historical structures there, Pinhook, the site of the epic cowboy/indian battle, it’s all gone. And more places dear to my heart – Warner Lake, Oowah – are threatened. Why? God, I apologize for every wildfire I have seen on the news and just thought, “wow, bummer”. Now I know what it feels like to have that land mean something. Natural selection? Bullshit, this should never have happened. I don’t care. My heart is fucking broken. I chewed my dad out on the phone today. I told him I blamed him for robbing us all of the last two years we could have had there; how rotten is that? Gas prices my ass. God I am so pissed. I know I’m wrong, and I’m being a complete brat, and I’ll deal with that soon enough, I promise. Tonight, I’m just pissed. I’m cracking that bottle of wine, going out on the porch, and having a damn good cry for every damn juniper tree and scrub oak that gave up the ghost this weekend. FUCK.

A Rough Day for the Magpye

Well here it is, the beginning of a nice long weekend, and can I say not a moment too soon? Too much crap lately, too much stress, ever feel like you’re about to snap like a dry little twig? Today was one of those days. Adam, my much appreciated apprentice/assistant left for medical school today, a fact not made any easier to bear by the fact that he will be attending BYU: “BYU, BYU, where the girls are girls and the boys are too”, as we U of U fans say. Also, my other coworker who had been assisting with the external audits has been removed from that function and placed solely on CAPAs (corrective and preventive actions) and complaints. So it’s all me, baby, and I am crapping down both legs right now. I schedule. I coordinate. I host. I pull requested documentation. I provide evidence of compliance of any and all applicable regulations, from ISO to USP, and all the ones in between, then I put away all the documents, then I wait for the audit reports, then I have to investigate the findings and respond within 30 days. (after management approval and signatures, of course.)
Remind me again how I found this job to be such a perfect fit for me?? There’s that dry little twig feeling again…
On another note, lets turn to something more positive. I had said previously that the story of my gentleman friend was a blog for another time. Well I’ve had just enough stress mixed with just enough beer, so why the hell not?
His name is Mike. I met Mike when I was thirteen years old. I grew up in a family where there was not alot of positive encouragement and plenty of judgement, and so by thirteen I had been convinced there was pretty much nothing about me that was worth shit.
I met Mike at a Mountain Man Rendezvous; my family attended these all through my growing years. They were great experiences, in so many ways. I had been given one edge in life in that my mother had insisted I learn to play bluegrass fiddle. Hey people, around the fire at night, it don’t matter how old you are, musicians don’t go thirsty, and that always rocked.
Back to my story: Mike was the first boy who ever liked me. And I mean, REALLY liked me. From the first time we met, he made me feel like a different person, a new person, a GOOD person. Someone worthy of something. He elevated me somehow, I’ve never been able to explain it any better than that. when I was with Mike, I was on top of the world, and nobody could do anything about it.
My parents, of course, immediately saw that this was a bad situation and hated him on site. Did it defer him one bit? Hell no. Even though it turned out we lived several towns apart, for years we were practically inseparable. I have so many memories of those times, the goofy stuff we did, the trouble we got into. Mike was my first. But such a gentleman, he never laid a hand on me for months and months until I finally had to say something… and that was it. It was going to be him and me. Forever.
Well, things don’t always turn out the way you plan, and this time it was all my fault. Mike got early entry into the military, thinking he was starting into a career that would support us as a young family one day soon. I couldn’t stand being away from him, his absence was a hole in my life that seemed like it drained the life right out of me. So in my fifteen year old wisdom, what did I do? I ran off with someone else. Stupid, stupid me. To this day I regret what I did.
Twenty-five years later, Mike is divorced and I am going through my second divorce, and lo and behold, we meet up on a Reunion.com website. We had both been looking for each other, and came to find out, even mourning to the exact same songs. I hadn’t gone a day without thinking of him, and he says the same. Our reunion was almost creepy in that within 5 minutes it seemed like we had never been apart. It seems very soon into my divorce to say I am completely in love with him… but then again, I always have been; this is nothing new.

Magpye’s epic Beak-Bonking

So it was a nice normal Thursday night, and I had my nice gentleman friend come over to cook me a nice meal, and it was all nice and special. My gentleman friend brought a nice Sangria over to share, and having never tried it before, I found it to be quite pleasant. So we had a glass or two, and he left to go to the store for the supplies he needed to cook with, and I suppose it’s possible I helped myself to some more sangria, but I truly don’t believe I did. Anyhoo, my gentleman friend returned, we shared another glass, and were having a truly lovely time. I am quite enamored with my gentleman friend, and have been for most of my life, but that’s a blog for another time. He was being most charming, showing me the great lengths he went to to make the meal come out just right… I excused myself for one moment, and that’s when everything started to go horribly wrong. As I rose from my chair, and began to walk towards the bathroom, I noticed that my posture never gained true upright; I seemed to be listing to the left. Secondly, although I could see the bathroom door and was making all efforts to direct myself towards it, I found myself drifting closer and closer to the tV, despite my epic efforts to redirect myself midstream. Fortunately once I bounced off the tv, that seemed to correct my course appropriately and I was headed for the door I had set out to reach.

People, I have to admit that this is where the story has taken a few different turns, for the sake of my dignity. But lucky you, you are about to hear the true nitty gritty, and hear me now: it won’t be pretty.
I entered the bathroom, rather unsteady on my feet, I approach the throne, turn around and prepare to assume the position. With both hands occupied in the act of dropping my drawers, there was nothing to break my fall as my balance suddenly toppled me forward toward the hard, unforgiving bathroom tiles. Nothing, that is, except my face. My gentleman friend later described what he heard as a wet thwack, followed by “THIT!”
Of course my first concern was to get my pants back up. I knew he would be coming to investigate and I couldn’t have him see me sprawled on the bathroom floor with my pants around my ankles and my face a bloody mess. Next, to appraise the damage: now I know what the THIT was for. I had hit directly on my front teeth and nose and pretty much splattered my lip, I was bleeding from my mouth and nose profusely. My face was already swelling to epic proportions. Blood was everywhere. And do you know what my sweet gentleman friend did? He came in, took a look to see if I was okay, and then he laughed his ass off. He laughed while he got me ice for my face, he laughed while he cleaned the whole bathroom for me. He laughed while he helped me lie down in bed, making jokes the whole time. He watched over me the whole night, except he must have dozed off when I attempted to get out of bed and was viciously attacked by the bedroom carpet, thus the additional rugburn above my right eyebrow… The next day, I had a fat lip the size of Rhode Island. He thought that was totally hilarious.
I look like I have been through a hell of a bar fight. And come out pretty okay. That suits me just fine. And my gentleman friend… he thought the whole thing was as funny as I did, and that’s why he is totally the awesomest.

On a hunt for Pirate Booty

Well now kids, since the Magpye is all on her own and flying solo these days, she gets to make all her own decisions, and she feels like celebrating. One of the first things I want to do, of course, just because I can, is get a new tattoo. I know exactly what I want, only I have no idea what it is, and that’s why I need your help. Makes perfect sense, right? Of course it does – I am the Magpye! Who hasn’t been paying attention here??
In Pirates of the Carribbean III, At World’s End, we see Captain Jack in Davey Jones’ Locker, manning the Black Pearl and a crew of misfit Jacks. Several are shirtless and we see a multitude of tattooed torsos. Now, kids: I have a tattoo OF Jack, what remains but to get a tattoo of JACKS’? On his left shoulder there is a large black circular tattoo that looks tribal in nature, but he never holds still long enough to get a really clear look at the design. I have been up and down the internet repeatedly, and do you think I can find any reference to the tattoos of Jack Sparrow, other than the sparrow itself? UGH!!! That’s why I am counting on you, friends and neighbors. Anyone out there can do better than me, anyone can find me that design in a printable format suitable for reproduction by Dean, my favorite body artist at Lost Art Tattoo in downtown SLC, THE place to go if you want it to last a lifetime?? Man I wish I had a pic I could post of the Jack Sparrow he put on my leg, the man is a genius. It looks more like Jack than Johnny Depp himself.
So people!! Anybody out there that can help a Magpye out?? I NEEEEED that design, and I don’t know where to get it. I promise, you’ll be my best friend for the whole day. Who’s got first dibs??

Magpye Flies the Coop

Well friends and neighbors, it’s been awhile! Thought I’d reach out and touch ya. Alot has happened here in the old nest; namely, I left it, and built my own, a la single-style. Yes, the Magpye has flown the coop. I moved out of the house about two weeks ago into my own apartment and I feel pretty good about it. You know, if I am going to live my life alone, why not do it where I can hang a pirate flag over my bed and call it the Captains Quarters, right? I was pretty much alone in the marriage, which sucked, and it was made worse by having my husband looking down his nose at me all the time. You know what? I don’t want to grow up. I’m going to like Pirates all I want. I’ll get as many tattoos as I feel like. And if being silly makes me happy, well then God damnit, I can be silly, and to Hell with anyone who thinks they get to judge me.
My kids have taken it pretty well, the one thing I made sure of is that we handled this the best we could for them. I can hope he keeps it up on his end, I know I will on mine. I really would like things to stay friendly – Hell, I’m letting him have just about everything, aren’t I? The house, the furniture, all of it – just let me out. No offense, but SEE YA. I’ve given 13 years of my life to this deal, and I’m just not getting anything back, and it’s just getting worse…
I know I did the right thing. I’m flat broke, I don’t know how I’m paying net week’s bills, but I have a great apartment I found super cheap (won the landlord over by finding out what their favorite cookies were, then arranging a special delivery from the “Snickerdoodle Fairy”, a personal friend) and I get to be me again. I feel free, I feel good. I feel happy.
I still care about my husband. But there’s a part of me that knew those days were numbered, and I had to get out while I could still say that. You know the interesting thing? He never asked me why. He never asked me not to go. He never asked me if it was something we could work on. Not once. I found that to be fascinating. What do you make of it?