Just a Tiny Rant About Liars

I hate liars so much I'm using clip art, which I also hate.

I hope you will all indulge me in a tiny, non-specific rant or better yet, just drink a cup of coffee and wait for the next funny or sexy post. Here's a break so you can do that if you want.

Dancing on the Pole

And now the post about the pole-dancing. OK, so my kids--my son Drake, his girlfriend Montana, and their friends--really like it when I come out and party with them sometimes. I'm sure they wouldn't want me to join them every time, but once in a blue moon we get a little crazy. Last time I went out to their favorite club with them it was foam night, and it was wild. I wrote a snippet of conversation about that night and posted a photo of the foam fun here. The conversation on the phone with my son about our upcoming clubbing date went something like this:

Me: If I'm dancing with somebody this time, you're not to box block me. Just keep dancing as if it happens all the time.
Drake: If you're grinding with him I'll have to leave the room.
Me: Grinding? Grinding? I would never grind with a stranger on the dance floor right in front of you kids.
Drake: Pretty sure you were grinding last time. (Editorial note: He was kidding. He had better have been kidding.)
Me: I was not grinding with that man. That was just dancing. No box blocking.
Drake: Could have been grinding.
Me: You could go to hell for talking to your mother like that.
Drake: No grinding.
Me: Go to hell.

My babies. How I love them both....except when they act like their father.

Back to the club. Friday night was goth industrial night, which wasn't wild like foam night, but certainly took a turn I didn't expect. I looked through my closet and didn't see anything that even remotely shouted goth industrial, so I threw on one of my little black dresses and my tallest platforms and met the kids in the parking lot behind the club at about 12:30 so they could walk in with me because, you know, I was afraid I'd get hit on and grinded ground on by all those young goth industrialists.

The club looks like a 1950's-era diner from the outside, with a raised patio on the front, and industrial modern inside. Kind of retro futuristic. The bar is a big stainless steel rectangle that serves two rooms. The sunken dance floor has a wooden cage hanging from the ceiling in one corner. Girls get in the cage and dance, and they can rock it back and forth...like go go girls without the white boots. In spite of some encouragement, I have never danced in the cage. However, I admire the girls who do. Some of them strip down to black bras and boy shorts and dance with no apparent regard for the other dancers below. And nobody seems to pay much attention to them either. Hmmm. That doesn't sound like what I mean. I think I'll become clearer when I get to the pole.

After we got there I just followed the kids around like a puppy for a while hoping I wasn't the oldest person in the place we found a group of friends out on the patio and joined them. I only knew one of them*, but she was one I'd found crashed on my couch before back in my son's teen years, so we had some history. We shared a lovely reunion and a couple of drinks.

Then some of us girls couldn't resist the pound of the music and the fog and the lights, so we hit the dance floor. And I found out I wasn't the oldest person in the place because pretty soon I was dancing with the guy who was. I think we were making an attempt at disco dancing, but he had more enthusiasm than skill. Finally I'd had enough and I glanced at Montana as he spun me out. Within seconds she smoothly cut in and danced me back to our group. That girl is a keeper.

We danced for a while, drank and talked for a while, and then danced some more.  The same guy grabbed me again--he was nice, but I wasn't tapping that--and Montana did her thing again as soon as I mouthed "help me" to her. Finally we headed back to the bar again. As I stood there talking to Drake, the dancing guy came by to say goodbye.

Dancing Guy: (holds out his hand to me for a shake.) Hi, I'm Ron.
Me: (smiling and shaking his hand.) Nice to meet you.
Dancing Guy: (to Drake) Thanks for letting me dance with your woman. She's a good dancer.
Drake: (raising one eyebrow) You're welcome, but she's my mom.
Dancing Guy: (recovering from the shock with remarkable aplomb) Your mom! Oh, well then I hope you bring her back soon. (to me) I've been coming here...blah blah blah back when it was blah blah blah. I hope you come back  some Friday night so we can dance again.
Me: (thinking, This always happens. I get too friendly with the natives and then I have to find a new place to have fun, like that time a woman was humping my leg at karaoke and we never went back to that bar....) Sure I'll probably come back sometime. Bye now.

He left and Montana ran up and grabbed my hand. "Come with me. I want to show you something."

We ran off to the last room, which is to the side of the dance floor. It has a second bar that I've never seen tended and a stripper pole on a stainless steel platform surrounded by comfy couches.

She positioned me in front of the pole, leaped up on the stage, pulled her tight t-shirt dress up to her waist and climbed to the top of the pole, about 12 feet up. I watched in amazement as she did what can best be described as a gymnastics routine along the entire pole--not really dancing but a series of moves that required incredible strength and focus. I probably looked as delighted as I felt, although when she did the splits and hung upside down, I wanted to run up and get underneath in case I needed to catch her. It was amazing. I clapped and gave her a big hug when she finished and leaped off the little stage. Next her best friend in her tiny little pleated plaid skirt got up and did her routine, followed by a third young woman who even has her own pole at her house. I just stood there and watched in wonder.

OK, it probably sounds like I'm watching my son's girlfriend and her friends do a stripper routine in a public bar, but that's far from what they were doing. Yes, they're sexy young women and they know it. Good for them! More important, they're strong, talented, athletic, confident women who...I'm not sure how to say it. They made me awfully proud of how they represent their generation. They own it all.

See it's a totally different culture there than it would be at a strip club. Yes, there are people sitting on the couches watching, but some are also not watching. One guy was sleeping; others talking and not paying much attention. Around the club, other people are dancing and walking around not paying any attention to the girl on the pole. Nobody was ogling like they would in a strip club. One of the guys even got up there and did a routine. In case you haven't seen what this looks like, here's a video that shows some of the moves I saw Friday night. In fact, they've learned most of what they do from videos and lots of practice.

Finally Montana grabbed my hand again and said, "C'mon. It's your turn on the pole." I, of course, resisted. I was pretty sure nobody needed to see Mom get up there and work the pole. "Just let me show you a couple of moves," she pleaded. Then the other girls joined in. How could I refuse?

"I should probably wear a helmet and pads on my knees and elbows," I said.

They laughed but I was kind of serious about the helmet part. I stepped up on the platform and Montana showed me how to wrap my leg around the pole and position my foot so I could climb up. I looked around with concern for young, tender eyes when she hiked my dress up so my bare leg was in contact with the pole, but nobody looked shocked. I finally hauled myself up the pole a couple of inches a few feet, clinging with all the strength I had in my arms, legs, feet....and then Montana gave me a push and I was spinning fast, head back, laughing. It hurt but it was exhilarating at the same time. They all clapped and cheered when I finally slowed down and stepped back on the ground, dizzy but triumphant. Montana showed me another move or two, and I "worked the pole" for about two more minutes until I ran out of strength. They all clapped and cheered for me some more....and one of them asked me not to tell her mother she does this. I felt sorry for her mom that she would probably never see what I was privileged to see that night.

I did basically nothing and it took all the strength I had, so I can't even imagine how they do what they do up there. If I were a bad guy, I wouldn't want to meet any of these girls in a dark alley. They could kick some ass. And they told me sometimes strippers from a local gentleman's club come in to dance, and they're better than the pros. The strippers try to get them to come and work at their club, but that's not why these girls do this. They're in it for themselves, for the challenge, and their boyfriends or husbands can love them for it, but it's not really to turn them on. (Sorry, guys.)

As I said above, the girls are super strong and fit. Not so much Mom. I was fine the next morning except for a big bruise on the top of my right foot, one the size of my hand on the back of my right thigh, and a few along my arms. But by the time I got home from porkfest that night, I could barely move. Every muscle in my arms and chest had tightened up in protest, as had my abs and the backs of my legs. This is not like riding a bike. Sunday morning I almost had to cancel my ride because I wasn't sure my arms could hold me on my bars. What a weenie.

I texted Montana to thank her for leaving me rum cake and to tell her I was hurting something awful. She said I just needed to spend more time dancing on the pole. I think probably not, but it was fun. And now I can say I've done that, although it's not the same as putting on a private show. Although for the right person ....well, that's probably another post.

Somebody once asked me what was on my bucket list and I really couldn't answer. I usually only know something was on the list after it happens--like flying an airplane or making milk licker or dancing the pole. One of my theater friends said I should put it on my next audition form as one of my skills: playing piano and guitar, singing, pole-dancing.....Coming soon to a theater or night club near you!

* I love the reaction when my son introduces me to his friends as his mom. Most of them can't imagine their parents clubbing with them, but that's a story I've heard from my kids' friends for years. Their parents don't talk to them or want to be involved in their lives other than to tell them how to do everything better. But that's a topic for another post. It's so rare for a mom to come there they go all out to show me a good time.

Filling the Bucket

I promised to write about dancing* on the pole Friday night and so I will, but I have to tell you, my ass is dragging tonight. I packed way more socializing into one weekend than a girl should and then some. So much that I turned down a dinner invitation tonight so I could come home and take a nap, and this is not normal behavior for me. Other people can't keep up with me, but I usually can. (Maybe I need to see a doctor. ) But I'm tired in a good way. Tired in a way that filled my bucket. Tired because my peeps surrounded me this weekend with love and support and food and dancing and laughter. So much that I couldn't do it all like I usually do. So much it was like  Woodstock, only without the mud. So if you're only interested in the pole, skip to the next post. I'm typing though and I want to say something about the rest of the weekend, about how very blessed I am by the people in my life, if only because the Universe gave me a great big old reminder that I probably needed as much as the next person does.

Example of a Vision Board

Friday night I spent a rare evening with one of my besties, The Hot Italian. We're in touch almost every day, but we're both too busy to get together in person very often. I had planned to go to an annual blues fest in Hippie Town, one that I haven't missed in years, but I took the opportunity to haul my guitar over to her house to jam and read tarot cards**. Only I forgot my cards, and we didn't get the guitars out to blend harmonies on even one Indigo Girls song. We just talked. We talked about dreams versus the illusion of security, taking leaps of faith, careers versus doing what we love, what we're missing versus what we have. She encouraged me to create a vision board and she'll be doing one too. I have to admit, I'm not a follower of the law of attraction movement, but I like cutting pictures out and gluing them on mat board, so I'll probably do one just to see if anything surprises me. Maybe I'll talk more about that in another post. I left her house about 11:00, but .... more on Friday night in the next post.

Saturday my soul sister, Colorado, came with her daughter to spend the day. We used to see each other almost every day, and we had some wild adventures....until she got married, moved 60 miles away, joined the corporate world and became domesticated. (OK, and really happy, but whatevs.) We don't see each other that often any more, so a visit is cause for celebration. Except, we didn't do anything exciting--drove around a neighborhood I'm thinking about moving to, shopped the downtown Goodwill, and ate lunch at a little deli. And talked a lot. It was wonderful. Even though she's just down the road, things have changed and I miss her. The first time we walked out of a grad school rhetoric class and introduced ourselves, we bonded forever, in spite of my extreme extroversion and her puzzling introversion. Somehow the mix made for some crazy adventures and stories. And somehow she showed up Saturday just when I needed to be reminded of who I am.

After Colorado left, I headed over to a porkfest in the backyard of some friends and spent the evening eating every kind of yummy food and getting many hugs and kisses and laughs and way too much talk about my sex life and....need I say it? Pork. Pork loin on the grill with apple BBQ sauce and smoked pork chops and tables loaded with sides and many desserts. And wonderful friends who are determined to get me laid properly and soon...and often. And who want to get out on the bike trail with me and sing karaoke and who praised my milk licker. Yes, I took a mason jar of milk licker and traded my host, Angry Badger, what remained in the jar for a leftover smoked pork chop. I planned so many adventures in those few hours, I'd be busy for the next five years if I did it all.

While I was there, my son's girlfriend texted me and said she'd left some rum cake on my front porch. Mmmm. It was delicious with a glass of cold, raw milk. She's the one who got me on the pole, so more about her later.

Today, Sunday, I changed plans I'd made weeks ago and still had a great day. I signed up for a historic three-hour bike ride around the city about two months ago. I was excited, and unfortunately I told someone I was close to at the time about it. But when I looked at the Facebook invitation to get the details and saw the RSVPs that had appeared after mine, I decided it wouldn't be much fun to go on that ride after all. I just don't dig mean people. So instead I agreed to be an extra in a movie. I hit a different bike trail with The Diplomat that ended  at a local theater (where I performed in my first play last fall) and did the movie shoot instead. Again, some good theater friends were there and I met some new people. I'm sure it was more fun than the other bike ride would have been, and I left with a tub of hummus. And got in a 13-mile ride.

And then this afternoon I went to a performance of Harvey. I haven't written here about my theater experiences this past year, but I will eventually. It's so much fun to go to plays and know several people in the cast. I have performed with three actors in today's play, been directed by the director, and performed on that stage. Again, it's like going home or to Cheers where everybody knows your name, and the people get to be like family. After the play though, I'd had enough and I begged off dinner and came home.....And finally I sat down to write. I started to write about dancing on the pole, but I wrote this instead.

I know this sounds like just another busy weekend, and so it was. I'm sorry I didn't make the blues fest, and I really wanted to go on that group bike ride, but I'm not complaining. When I look back at all the people who shared these two days with me, and I think about how much I love them and how much love I receive from them....I almost can't hold it all in my heart. My heart has broken in a couple of different ways this summer. The birth of my granddaughter broke it as it stretched to receive her and this new incarnation of my daughter as a mother. That kind of breaking, overwhelming as it is, brings unfathomable joy. And then there was other damage that is still healing, still raw no matter how ready I am to move on. And with both kinds of heart-break I know my peeps are there to hold me together and either celebrate with me or talk some shit in my defense...they've got my back and my front. Oh, but you wanted to read about the pole. Next post......with a photo. Tomorrow. I promise.

* I know how to dance, so trust me when I say I use the word "dancing" to describe something that doesn't look like me dancing.

** Yes, I do readings. So does she. It's not expensive and it's worth it.

Light as the Breeze

Light as the Breeze

She stands before you naked
you can see it, you can taste it,
and she comes to you light as the breeze.
Now you can drink it or you can nurse it,
it don't matter how you worship
as long as you're
down on your knees.

So I knelt there at the delta,
at the alpha and the omega,
at the cradle of the river and the seas.
And like a blessing come from heaven
for something like a second
I was healed and my heart
was at ease.

~ ~ Leonard Cohen

This is my favorite poem. All time favorite. It even beats red wagons and snowy evenings and your one wild and precious life. And, yes, I do know it's a song, but the music is unnecessary and the words are instrumental.

Have you ever felt that feeling in the last three lines? What would you give to feel it again?

                                           

Coming Up

I looked just like this.

Went clubbing with the kids tonight and learned how to dance on a pole. Yeah, that kind of pole. It's never too late to learn a new skill, although I think I may have a few bruises. Photos and the story to follow tomorrow if I have time. If not.....soon. It's always a difficult decision: dance the stripper pole or write on my blog....I really don't want to miss doing either.

My wise words for the night? Simply this: Often what's missing in your life isn't what you wish you had, but what you've given up. Be careful out there.