….. brasil somemore …..

Well, it’s been how many days, and I have neglected you all, busying myself with…. oh no!… making money.  Yes, it’s true… and this is the time for sure.  Things are flowing, and I’m being a good girl and doing what I need to do right now.

Finding treasures to sell is a job in itself, but of course it’s one of the funnest ones… the other being collecting the money.  In between it’s cleaning up, photographing, writing clever descriptions and posting.  Then there’s answering questions and reminding people to pay.  But really, it’s fun.

So I’ve left you hanging on two counts… the variety of stories left from that dating site that started this whole thing, and…… the continuing saga of the Alcir-Brasil Story.

Last time we talked, he had been giving me the deadly Latin Stare across the room, and I was irritated, but amused.  What a little Brat, how dare he impose his great big eyes into my psyche, and irritate my inners…   the little Punk… We ate our dinner I guess, I can’t really remember much in that arena.  I think it was better than I thought it would be, that’s for sure.

At some point later, he turned to me directly, and asked for a tour.  Now at that time my home was this conglomerate that had evolved through decades of hippies and homesteaders.  Started with an A frame, then extended lengthwise to add a master bedroom-bath, then went up from there, up narrow stairs to create two more rooms, one square with windows, one long with low A frame ceiling, the top floor actually, of that master bedroom.  All very funky, rough wood, makeshift railings, odd stairs, but it all worked to make this really cozy nest, and a great party house.

At the other end was the newest addition, a large high ceiling-ed  get away with polished floors, surround windows and husky ladder leading to my loft bed.  This was my Studio, and since it was at the opposite end from the kids’ and teens areas, I could close its glass doors and have a world of my own.  Lovely.  My favorite house of all times, with odd little decks tucked here and there, and 360 views into the woods.

So we’re all a bit high on probably beer and some greenery, and we’ve been laughing for a couple hours, so I’m fine with this ‘Tour’.  I lead him to the master bedroom, which my oldest daughter had reserved, the upstairs rooms which my two younger girls enjoy, and then it’s the other end…. This place was like a Boat, long and narrow with each room having a different flavor and dimension.  We enter my studio and loft, and he checks out my art.  At that time I was making all sorts of creatures from clay and cloth, and sometimes skulls and bones.

“Oh,”  he says…”I’ve herrrd about weeemen like you…… you do Voodoo?  You do Voodoo forrr meee.  I wan a meeeelion doelars…”

We laugh.  I show him the large deck off one side.  It’s dark, and the lights cast shadows on the huge trees around us.  There are sighs.  It’s quiet.

We go back into the studio, and he looks up to the loft.

“Can I see up dere?” he asks, with tentative confidence.

“Ok, sure…I guess…”

We climb the ladder, he behind me, and I wonder if he’s staring at my ass.      No, actually I don’t wonder at all…

The loft is basically a large bed on the floor, with some space around it.  There are little drawers on each side, and it’s draped with gauzey flow-y stuff like I like.  The ceiling is low and peaked.  We go out on the tiny deck off to the right, and check out the view.   It’s getting intense…

The quiet of the night, the shadows and light of those giant redwoods, the total lack of conversation, all lend this eerie, other feeling to our togetherness.   He’s on my left, our arms almost touching.  Then suddenly, or quite slowly actually, his left hand reaches across and touches the left side of my face.   Gently, so gently, more gently than I could ever imagine this madman could be,  his fingers turn my face to his, and in slow motion, he bends down towards me.  So slowly…. All the while my brain is on fry, I can’t believe he’s doing this, how dare he do this, I don’t even know him, how can this be happening, and then… his lips float to mine.  They touch my lips so softly, and it’s forever a moment.  They just sit there, barely touching, and do not move.  He does not move.   I do not move.  My brain continues its soliloquy, spinning it’s doubts and indignations, the how can he, what is this, what the what….?

Yet slowly, ever so slowly, the mind quiets with this gentleness, this soft respect, this non invasive invasion.  Slowly the body relaxes.  And slowly, ever so gradually, I surrender in parts and pieces, tiny sections at a time.  And as I surrender, over what seems like minutes but are likely tens of seconds, my body and his draw together, nano millimeter by nano millimeter.   Slowly his hands touch my waist, slowly his arms begin to surround me.  And at some point far into the night,  in universe time, star time, moon walk time, I have melted into him and he to me, his arms holding me as tightly as he dares, and the kiss has become our entire reality.  Complete and absolute Surrender.  Our oneness hangs in time, the trees the only witness to our only-us, only-now moment.

“Mom…?  are you guys coming down soon…?” and the irridescent bubble breaks, the spirits draw back into corporal reality, and we abruptly part as daughter #2 appears up the ladder.

“Ya, we’re coming” I think I mumble, and we stumble stagger spin away from eachother, and down into the reality we have left.

Heh heh heh…. yes, this is the real story.  Didja like that part?  Hmmmm hmmm ….. so did I.  What a way to start a romance, huh?



….it was a very good year….

....it was a very good year....

It’s 1986, and I’m having margaritas with Steven, the one who brought Alcir home with him and a frozen chicken. I cropped this one to send to Alcir, because he hated seeing me with anyone else…. even Steven.   I was 43… he was 33…. at least that’s what he Told me… later I found out he was 29.