It didn't snow like I wanted. My wish was to wake up with a blanket of white draped over the landscape.
I wanted the gentle hush of life sounds. Quieted by a snow muffle. The world stops going here and there to stay inside under the protective warmth of their homes.
Those days create the perfect excuse for making a vat of soup and yummy cookies. The house becomes delicious smelling.
I wanted to layer my son in snow gear and send him outside to go snowboarding or sledding. He would come home with red cheeks and a frozen nose.
I would greet him at the door with hot chocolate and a fire in the fireplace. Time would be spent snuggling up in a blanket hearing about his snow adventure for the day.
It's still early in winter, maybe another day I'll get my wish.
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Have yourself a very Merry Christmas...
I finally got my Christmas tree this year.
It seems like my brain keeps thinking I have more time before the holidays, but in reality they're thisclose already.
The Autumn wreath was replace by the pine one and the yellows, oranges, and browns have been replaced by blues, whites, reds and greens.
My tree is the prettiest one we've ever put up. I know I say that every year but every year my idea of beauty changes.
This year it's just lights and a star on top. NO ornaments.
Last year it was just particular ornaments and an angel on top.
It was the most beautiful tree we've ever had.
So, this year I smile at it's beauty in simplicity.
That's what I wish for this coming year - to be able to appreciate beauty in it's most simplest form.
It seems like my brain keeps thinking I have more time before the holidays, but in reality they're thisclose already.
The Autumn wreath was replace by the pine one and the yellows, oranges, and browns have been replaced by blues, whites, reds and greens.
My tree is the prettiest one we've ever put up. I know I say that every year but every year my idea of beauty changes.
This year it's just lights and a star on top. NO ornaments.
Last year it was just particular ornaments and an angel on top.
It was the most beautiful tree we've ever had.
So, this year I smile at it's beauty in simplicity.
That's what I wish for this coming year - to be able to appreciate beauty in it's most simplest form.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Batten down the hatches...
Our first real winter storm is bearing down upon my little town.
The flakes are tiny and aplenty.
The wind swirls them around my face and up my nose.
It never fails - during a good storm, snow manages to get snuffled up my nose.
I was able to get my shopping done early. You can always tell what kind of storm we're going to have by the state of my cupboards.
Am I out of bred, milk, and/or eggs? Yes = major storm on the horizon. No = a minor inconvenience is approaching.
The news says "blizzard" "drifting" and "emergency."
I think we're going to get walloped.
With my body bundled up and my hat pulled down over my ears, I stand outside and listen to the snow fall.
You would think that snow was silent but it's not.
It is the quiet "shhhhhhhh" that hushes the bustling world that it covers.
The blanket of silence is beautiful and I always feel like my being is even too loud to just stand there and take it all in.
The flakes are tiny and aplenty.
The wind swirls them around my face and up my nose.
It never fails - during a good storm, snow manages to get snuffled up my nose.
I was able to get my shopping done early. You can always tell what kind of storm we're going to have by the state of my cupboards.
Am I out of bred, milk, and/or eggs? Yes = major storm on the horizon. No = a minor inconvenience is approaching.
The news says "blizzard" "drifting" and "emergency."
I think we're going to get walloped.
With my body bundled up and my hat pulled down over my ears, I stand outside and listen to the snow fall.
You would think that snow was silent but it's not.
It is the quiet "shhhhhhhh" that hushes the bustling world that it covers.
The blanket of silence is beautiful and I always feel like my being is even too loud to just stand there and take it all in.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Jingled all the way...
The holidays are fast approaching.
So much to do in so little time.
I feel the crunch already.
As I travel about my town there are more people out than I expected. Most with harried looks on their faces.
They cut in line and give me the finger. I can only imagine what is going on in their heads as they push me out of the way.
I thought this was the season for holiday cheer. For smiles and a bit of giving. Not just presents, but of general good will and peace towards all men.
What's happened to the world?
Is commercialism to blame? The saccharine infused commercials don't project a hostile image. Rather the exact opposite.
My attempt at brushing off the rude driver works for a bit. I'm just at the point of going home and letting the crazies have-at-it without me.
I can't wait until January when the hustle and bustle of the season has passed.
So much to do in so little time.
I feel the crunch already.
As I travel about my town there are more people out than I expected. Most with harried looks on their faces.
They cut in line and give me the finger. I can only imagine what is going on in their heads as they push me out of the way.
I thought this was the season for holiday cheer. For smiles and a bit of giving. Not just presents, but of general good will and peace towards all men.
What's happened to the world?
Is commercialism to blame? The saccharine infused commercials don't project a hostile image. Rather the exact opposite.
My attempt at brushing off the rude driver works for a bit. I'm just at the point of going home and letting the crazies have-at-it without me.
I can't wait until January when the hustle and bustle of the season has passed.
Monday, November 28, 2011
Giving an inch, but taking a mile...
I'm starting to feel the pinch of friendship.
Is that right? Are friendships supposed to pinch?
Or when you feel the pinch, is that an indicator that this relationship is not what it seems?
You have been waving a red flag for a while, but for the most part I was logging it in as jealousy.
Not in a bad way, but as you not liking to share time with me with somebody else.
In my life, my friends are tiered.
It takes trust and time to move from tier to tier. and I have no problem making a person start all over should they blow my trust.
I moved her up a tier and didn't get the response I was expecting.
I was willing to open up and invite her in, but it wasn't enough for her.
I'm not sure what she was expecting. Maybe something more interesting?
But I feel the pinch.
The pinch of offering more and it not being good enough.
And I find myself stressing over it and getting pissed off.
Is it that she wants it all?
That's not on the table.
Nobody gets it all.
Is that right? Are friendships supposed to pinch?
Or when you feel the pinch, is that an indicator that this relationship is not what it seems?
You have been waving a red flag for a while, but for the most part I was logging it in as jealousy.
Not in a bad way, but as you not liking to share time with me with somebody else.
In my life, my friends are tiered.
It takes trust and time to move from tier to tier. and I have no problem making a person start all over should they blow my trust.
I moved her up a tier and didn't get the response I was expecting.
I was willing to open up and invite her in, but it wasn't enough for her.
I'm not sure what she was expecting. Maybe something more interesting?
But I feel the pinch.
The pinch of offering more and it not being good enough.
And I find myself stressing over it and getting pissed off.
Is it that she wants it all?
That's not on the table.
Nobody gets it all.
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Felt fables...
We all tell white lies. If you say you never do, you're only lying to yourself.
My favorite white lie is the one you tell to see how outrageous you can get. And to see how far you can be believed.
The boy is usually the target for these tall tales.
"Fishsticks are made of alligator. They only tell people it's fish so they'll eat them" was my favorite up until last night. But we got him to believe it for years.
Had I not blown it, he'd still believe it to this day.
Back to present day:
Dinner was normal. Talk involved sound effects, grand gestures, and body parts.
Hey, they boy is a teen and that's how they talk. I was happy for the conversation as most days I'm on the receiving end of a stink-eye.
A piece of felt was found on the floor and we pondered as from where it came.
Your answer of "my ass" made us laugh. When the boy asked you how it got in your ass, you answered (in a straight face no less) "I ate a puppet."
It was not the answer I expected. Nor could I wait to hear where this was going.
And I was in it for the long haul.
The boy paused for a moment and considered your answer.
Did I just hear the click, click, click of a fish nibbling on the line?
You stared back at hinm in that matter-of-fact way.
Click, click, click.
When the boy saw the sincerity in your face the took the bait.
"When?!" was all he asked, his voice full of concern and wonderment.
The imaginary spool on the fishing reel screamed as the question left his lips.
Gotcha!
I couldn't hold back the laughter. It burst out though the house loud and long.
The line snapped and he got away.
I know years from now I'll come upon this and read it.
And laugh again.
My favorite white lie is the one you tell to see how outrageous you can get. And to see how far you can be believed.
The boy is usually the target for these tall tales.
"Fishsticks are made of alligator. They only tell people it's fish so they'll eat them" was my favorite up until last night. But we got him to believe it for years.
Had I not blown it, he'd still believe it to this day.
Back to present day:
Dinner was normal. Talk involved sound effects, grand gestures, and body parts.
Hey, they boy is a teen and that's how they talk. I was happy for the conversation as most days I'm on the receiving end of a stink-eye.
A piece of felt was found on the floor and we pondered as from where it came.
Your answer of "my ass" made us laugh. When the boy asked you how it got in your ass, you answered (in a straight face no less) "I ate a puppet."
It was not the answer I expected. Nor could I wait to hear where this was going.
And I was in it for the long haul.
The boy paused for a moment and considered your answer.
Did I just hear the click, click, click of a fish nibbling on the line?
You stared back at hinm in that matter-of-fact way.
Click, click, click.
When the boy saw the sincerity in your face the took the bait.
"When?!" was all he asked, his voice full of concern and wonderment.
The imaginary spool on the fishing reel screamed as the question left his lips.
Gotcha!
I couldn't hold back the laughter. It burst out though the house loud and long.
The line snapped and he got away.
I know years from now I'll come upon this and read it.
And laugh again.
Monday, November 14, 2011
Pink...
It happens to be the color I'm gravitating towards this year.
I look down at my newly polished toes - which are pink - and I smile.
Maybe I've been wearing black for so long I'm ready to lighten up.
Starting with my toes.
I look down at my newly polished toes - which are pink - and I smile.
Maybe I've been wearing black for so long I'm ready to lighten up.
Starting with my toes.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Licked...
I had a very bad day.
Very.
Bad.
Day.
The kind of day that pushes a person beyond "bent out of shape" into the realm of "sticky meltdown."
I wanted to knock over old ladies, kick puppies, and taunt children. I was ready to sling the hairbrush, flick lit matches at innocent bystanders, and vomit.
My permanent glare was a warning sign that if I got my claws into you, I would drag you into my misery.
Because my misery loves company.
I just wanted to lash out and make everybody else feel my pain.
Fortunatly I own a game system and vented my rage that way.
My only wish was to cause mayhem in the game - which I did. And, after 2 hours I started to laugh at the havoc I had created. The more destruction I caused, the better I felt.
While the sharp edges of my rage had been softened, it didn't change the day.
Why is it that sometimes the people you're supposed to trust suck the most?
Very.
Bad.
Day.
The kind of day that pushes a person beyond "bent out of shape" into the realm of "sticky meltdown."
I wanted to knock over old ladies, kick puppies, and taunt children. I was ready to sling the hairbrush, flick lit matches at innocent bystanders, and vomit.
My permanent glare was a warning sign that if I got my claws into you, I would drag you into my misery.
Because my misery loves company.
I just wanted to lash out and make everybody else feel my pain.
Fortunatly I own a game system and vented my rage that way.
My only wish was to cause mayhem in the game - which I did. And, after 2 hours I started to laugh at the havoc I had created. The more destruction I caused, the better I felt.
While the sharp edges of my rage had been softened, it didn't change the day.
Why is it that sometimes the people you're supposed to trust suck the most?
Friday, November 4, 2011
Better late than never...
It's taken me a while, but I've finally given in to welcoming the fall this year.
I'm not sure what my boggle was, but it shut out all my senses. The ones which inhale the fragrance of foliage decay.
I happen to enjoy the smell of Earth reclaiming herself.
It's damp and woodsy with a hint of chill in the air.
The leaves blanket my yard in a beautiful tapestry of yellows, oranges, reds, and browns.
The crackle of leaves beneath my feet as I shuffle through the pile makes me smile.
I grew up in an area that did not produce huge piles of leaves. There was no change of season.
Which means there was not time when the Earth shucked the dead to make room for new and alive things.
Of all the seasons time has to offer, Autumn is by far my favorite.
I'm not sure what my boggle was, but it shut out all my senses. The ones which inhale the fragrance of foliage decay.
I happen to enjoy the smell of Earth reclaiming herself.
It's damp and woodsy with a hint of chill in the air.
The leaves blanket my yard in a beautiful tapestry of yellows, oranges, reds, and browns.
The crackle of leaves beneath my feet as I shuffle through the pile makes me smile.
I grew up in an area that did not produce huge piles of leaves. There was no change of season.
Which means there was not time when the Earth shucked the dead to make room for new and alive things.
Of all the seasons time has to offer, Autumn is by far my favorite.
Monday, October 31, 2011
Treats for me...
I love Halloween. It's truly my favorite holiday.
Aside from it being ok to wear a costume and ask strangers for candy - I love to see the imaginations at work.
The littlest ones (whose treat bags are nearly as big as they are) are just learning the ropes. It is obvious that the parents picked out the costumes and are pushing each child door to door. Proud to show off their cute namesakes.
The middle sized children finally get to choose their costumes. There's a sense of pride they exude when you open the door to them. When you acknowledge how great they look their faces beam with pride.
The largest kids are what I call "the clean-up crew." They lurk in the shadows in costumes barely slapped together, but enough to tell that they made some effort.
They come during the confections last call.
My candy bowl is nearly emptied by these hulking teens. I still give them what I have because they rang my doorbell in a costume.
Now I must turn out my porch light because my remaining Butterfinger is calling my name.
Aside from it being ok to wear a costume and ask strangers for candy - I love to see the imaginations at work.
The littlest ones (whose treat bags are nearly as big as they are) are just learning the ropes. It is obvious that the parents picked out the costumes and are pushing each child door to door. Proud to show off their cute namesakes.
The middle sized children finally get to choose their costumes. There's a sense of pride they exude when you open the door to them. When you acknowledge how great they look their faces beam with pride.
The largest kids are what I call "the clean-up crew." They lurk in the shadows in costumes barely slapped together, but enough to tell that they made some effort.
They come during the confections last call.
My candy bowl is nearly emptied by these hulking teens. I still give them what I have because they rang my doorbell in a costume.
Now I must turn out my porch light because my remaining Butterfinger is calling my name.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Breakfast club...
You made me laugh this morning.
A rarity to be sure.
I must've caught you off guard because your comment, "Seeing you laugh in the morning is scary" made me laugh even harder.
My secret delight in unnerving you tickled me.
Not sure what got into me, but it lasted all day.
A rarity to be sure.
I must've caught you off guard because your comment, "Seeing you laugh in the morning is scary" made me laugh even harder.
My secret delight in unnerving you tickled me.
Not sure what got into me, but it lasted all day.
Monday, October 17, 2011
Brain Stew...
I sit and relax in the sun.
My mellow tunes play in the background and I feel the mental pot start to stir.
I envision a large paddle stirring this cauldron of my thoughts.
'Round and 'round she goes. Where she stops, nobody knows.
I get lost in my mind while giving myself a pedicure.
Are my feet the gateway to my internal processing?
I know putting my feet in the sand and letting my toes dig in releases something in my mind.
As if the tiny particles are actually little keys which open the padlock placed on my relaxation.
Pedicures - or at least the process - do the same thing for me.
My mind goes blank of all the immediate concerns.
Sometimes I get all my toes done and hardly remember doing anything.
Except when I'm done, I'm happy and relaxed.
Are other people this way?
Do they instinctively do something without question to pull out their creativity?
As the polish dries on my toes I smile.
I'm not sure why exactly, and I probably look like a fool, but I don't care.
My mellow tunes play in the background and I feel the mental pot start to stir.
I envision a large paddle stirring this cauldron of my thoughts.
'Round and 'round she goes. Where she stops, nobody knows.
I get lost in my mind while giving myself a pedicure.
Are my feet the gateway to my internal processing?
I know putting my feet in the sand and letting my toes dig in releases something in my mind.
As if the tiny particles are actually little keys which open the padlock placed on my relaxation.
Pedicures - or at least the process - do the same thing for me.
My mind goes blank of all the immediate concerns.
Sometimes I get all my toes done and hardly remember doing anything.
Except when I'm done, I'm happy and relaxed.
Are other people this way?
Do they instinctively do something without question to pull out their creativity?
As the polish dries on my toes I smile.
I'm not sure why exactly, and I probably look like a fool, but I don't care.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Reaching out...
My hand hovers above the telephone.
Do I or do I skip it?
Every week I ask myself the same question.
Every week I skip it.
I've been playing the same game for several months.
Every week I am drawn by the same desire - just to hear her voice.
What stops me is the inevitable conversation - which is what I wind up regretting after I hang up the receiver.
Why do I keep doing this?
Exactly what am I missing about her?
Is it that she's no longer a kindred spirit of mine and I hope to return to the past?
I think upon it heavily. It was a give and take relationship.
I gave and she took it all.
Do I miss being needed at midnight on a Tuesday?
Do I miss not getting a word in edgewise for an hour and a half on my dime?
As I ask myself these questions I realize that it we can't go back to the was things were because I changed.
Not her.
I changed and she can't handle it. So she doesn't anymore.
She has nothing to give me because she isn't built that way.
She never was.
I walk away from the phone knowing my decision is the right one.
At least this week.
ps - and not touching someone.
Do I or do I skip it?
Every week I ask myself the same question.
Every week I skip it.
I've been playing the same game for several months.
Every week I am drawn by the same desire - just to hear her voice.
What stops me is the inevitable conversation - which is what I wind up regretting after I hang up the receiver.
Why do I keep doing this?
Exactly what am I missing about her?
Is it that she's no longer a kindred spirit of mine and I hope to return to the past?
I think upon it heavily. It was a give and take relationship.
I gave and she took it all.
Do I miss being needed at midnight on a Tuesday?
Do I miss not getting a word in edgewise for an hour and a half on my dime?
As I ask myself these questions I realize that it we can't go back to the was things were because I changed.
Not her.
I changed and she can't handle it. So she doesn't anymore.
She has nothing to give me because she isn't built that way.
She never was.
I walk away from the phone knowing my decision is the right one.
At least this week.
ps - and not touching someone.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Hakuna Matata...
Every now and then he gives me a glimpse of long ago.
Growing up has hardened the exterior and even some of the interior of him. Not because he's had it rough, but because life lessons whittle away at the innocence and wonder of childhood.
He used to be such an open book.
Now his softest and most snuggly parts are tucked far, far away.
I miss my little boy.
I didn't realize how much I missed him until he surprisingly agreed to see The Lion King with me.
It was one of his favorite movies of all time. I'm not exagerating when I say this, but I have no idea how many times I saw this movie because we watched it so often. He was only an infant when they had the theatrical release, so we had only ever seen it on our television.
We got the tickets and entered the darkened theatre.
I sat down and watched him dart to the other side of the room away from me.
All I could do was laugh. He was embarrassed to sit with his own mother, yet he was willing to see a children's movie. Oh well. I'm too uncool to ever understand his version of cool.
The movie was bigger than life. More colorful than real life. Certainly more musical that real life.
In a darkened theatre, I was able to watch him watch the movie. I was delighted to see his eyes light up and his smile become wide and genuine.
In the darkened theatre I saw my little boy again.
Just for a moment.
Just for a moment I saw his little face running up to me with his blanket in one hand and The Lion King VHS tape in the other hand, with him yelling, "Mama, beebee king."
I could smell the sweet scent of "child" on him and just wanted to snuggle into his neck and hear him giggle.
The movie ran its course and I enjoyed it for the 11 millionth time in my life.
My boy thanked me with a hug and kiss - which lately has been few and far between.
Was the $33 spent on matinee tickets worth it?
Yes it was.
Growing up has hardened the exterior and even some of the interior of him. Not because he's had it rough, but because life lessons whittle away at the innocence and wonder of childhood.
He used to be such an open book.
Now his softest and most snuggly parts are tucked far, far away.
I miss my little boy.
I didn't realize how much I missed him until he surprisingly agreed to see The Lion King with me.
It was one of his favorite movies of all time. I'm not exagerating when I say this, but I have no idea how many times I saw this movie because we watched it so often. He was only an infant when they had the theatrical release, so we had only ever seen it on our television.
We got the tickets and entered the darkened theatre.
I sat down and watched him dart to the other side of the room away from me.
All I could do was laugh. He was embarrassed to sit with his own mother, yet he was willing to see a children's movie. Oh well. I'm too uncool to ever understand his version of cool.
The movie was bigger than life. More colorful than real life. Certainly more musical that real life.
In a darkened theatre, I was able to watch him watch the movie. I was delighted to see his eyes light up and his smile become wide and genuine.
In the darkened theatre I saw my little boy again.
Just for a moment.
Just for a moment I saw his little face running up to me with his blanket in one hand and The Lion King VHS tape in the other hand, with him yelling, "Mama, beebee king."
I could smell the sweet scent of "child" on him and just wanted to snuggle into his neck and hear him giggle.
The movie ran its course and I enjoyed it for the 11 millionth time in my life.
My boy thanked me with a hug and kiss - which lately has been few and far between.
Was the $33 spent on matinee tickets worth it?
Yes it was.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Life goes on, just as it should...
The voice on the other end of the phone line was a welcomed sound to my ears.
We had been out of touch since this entire thing went down.
I gave her space, hoping she understood my reasoning.
She did.
In a time in her life when everybody wanted a piece of her, she appreciated what little I could offer - breathing room.
I wasn't sure how to talk to her.
Somber? Soft? Concerned? Sad?
I didn't want to offend.
Then she made a comment about the circus that has become her life.
I couldn't help it.
I laughed. I tried to muffle myself, but the laugh got out before I could stop it.
You're not supposed to laugh when you are in mourning, right?
And then she laughed.
I heard the tension slipping from her voice just as I felt it leave my body.
She thanked me for a moment of levity because she needed it. Nobody around her understood her humor and was glad that I absolutely did.
You can count on me for inappropriate timing.
We talked and laughed. And, for the first time in a week, she said she felt normal.
She admitted that she wasn't going to be the same ever again. And I agreed with her. None of us will be.
And then she said, "I'd rather have 23 years of wonderful than a lifetime of nothing."
She knew what she lost but would continue to carry on.
I admire her strength and courage to put on a brave face and tackle this head on because I don't know if I'd be as tough as she has been.
We had been out of touch since this entire thing went down.
I gave her space, hoping she understood my reasoning.
She did.
In a time in her life when everybody wanted a piece of her, she appreciated what little I could offer - breathing room.
I wasn't sure how to talk to her.
Somber? Soft? Concerned? Sad?
I didn't want to offend.
Then she made a comment about the circus that has become her life.
I couldn't help it.
I laughed. I tried to muffle myself, but the laugh got out before I could stop it.
You're not supposed to laugh when you are in mourning, right?
And then she laughed.
I heard the tension slipping from her voice just as I felt it leave my body.
She thanked me for a moment of levity because she needed it. Nobody around her understood her humor and was glad that I absolutely did.
You can count on me for inappropriate timing.
We talked and laughed. And, for the first time in a week, she said she felt normal.
She admitted that she wasn't going to be the same ever again. And I agreed with her. None of us will be.
And then she said, "I'd rather have 23 years of wonderful than a lifetime of nothing."
She knew what she lost but would continue to carry on.
I admire her strength and courage to put on a brave face and tackle this head on because I don't know if I'd be as tough as she has been.
Friday, September 16, 2011
Joe...
You're never quite prepared.
At least that's what I've found.
Even when you're waiting for it, you're still somewhat surprised.
The message is never easy to deliver. No matter how you try to soften the blow, it still comes out the worst thing you've ever had to tell a person.
Because you know, once you've said it out loud, it becomes real.
It's no better being on the other side.
You can't quite understand for a moment and then the horror of it all wraps it's arms around you and won't let go.
I know this because I've been the messenger and the recipient.
It's awful on either end.
I don't care if you believe in the great beyond. I don't care if you don't. I don't care if you believe in reincarnation or different plains or master plans or life lessons learned.
The end result is the same.
They're gone and I'm left crying.
Death sucks.
At least that's what I've found.
Even when you're waiting for it, you're still somewhat surprised.
The message is never easy to deliver. No matter how you try to soften the blow, it still comes out the worst thing you've ever had to tell a person.
Because you know, once you've said it out loud, it becomes real.
It's no better being on the other side.
You can't quite understand for a moment and then the horror of it all wraps it's arms around you and won't let go.
I know this because I've been the messenger and the recipient.
It's awful on either end.
I don't care if you believe in the great beyond. I don't care if you don't. I don't care if you believe in reincarnation or different plains or master plans or life lessons learned.
The end result is the same.
They're gone and I'm left crying.
Death sucks.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Everybody's Got Their Something...
My face to the sky
Dreaming about just how high
I could go and I'll know
When I finally get there
Taking of my glasses
Sun pokes through my lashes
And somehow I know
There's a time for every star to shine
Everybody got their something
Everybody got their something
Make you smile like an itty bitty child
People keeping score
Say better hurry up and get yours
Cause somebody else get your spot
Before you even dropped
Seek and you shall find
Everything in my own sweet time
I'll take my chances
With what I believe is only mine
Busy holding on
So the roof don't fly
Keep you from moving on
So get it right
Turn the tide over
Like a love song
Like a butterfly
Believe if you hand it over
You'll come out all right
Everybody got their something
Everybody got their something
Make you smile like an itty bitty child
Illuminate the silly things
Shed some light on all that's wrong
Everybody need it sometime
Sometimes the only thing you got
Is what makes you feel like
You're something else altogether
You have everything don't need
Another reason to be something
I've been on a ride
And caught up in the landslide
But I'm gonna spread my wings and fly...
Everybody got their something
Everybody got their something
Make you smile like an itty bitty child
There's a time for every star
There's a time for every star...
~Nikki Costa
ps - it got stuck in my head this morning
Dreaming about just how high
I could go and I'll know
When I finally get there
Taking of my glasses
Sun pokes through my lashes
And somehow I know
There's a time for every star to shine
Everybody got their something
Everybody got their something
Make you smile like an itty bitty child
People keeping score
Say better hurry up and get yours
Cause somebody else get your spot
Before you even dropped
Seek and you shall find
Everything in my own sweet time
I'll take my chances
With what I believe is only mine
Busy holding on
So the roof don't fly
Keep you from moving on
So get it right
Turn the tide over
Like a love song
Like a butterfly
Believe if you hand it over
You'll come out all right
Everybody got their something
Everybody got their something
Make you smile like an itty bitty child
Illuminate the silly things
Shed some light on all that's wrong
Everybody need it sometime
Sometimes the only thing you got
Is what makes you feel like
You're something else altogether
You have everything don't need
Another reason to be something
I've been on a ride
And caught up in the landslide
But I'm gonna spread my wings and fly...
Everybody got their something
Everybody got their something
Make you smile like an itty bitty child
There's a time for every star
There's a time for every star...
~Nikki Costa
ps - it got stuck in my head this morning
Friday, September 9, 2011
Chocolate never did this to me...
As I circle the large table, my fingers trail behind me on the edge.
My eyes take in the festive treats.
Oh, how I love pot-luck lunches.
I spot a green goopy bowl of stuff. Next to that is some sort of macaroni thing. At the far end I see my contribution (3 dips guacamole, spinach, and onion/pepper) and notice somebody has already helped themselves.
Sandwich trays, fried chicken, fruit and veggies, and various salads temp me. Not to mention the dessert table.
My only problem is an allergy to garlic that has become legendary.
I try and sniff out the appealing items and am cautious.
While I wish I could just take a bit of everything, I know I can't. Garlic lurks behind every Tupperware lid.
I settle on a sandwich and pasta salad with a side of fruit. Not as much fun as, say, that platter of nachos, but I should be alright.
Not long after my meal, I feel the familiar cramps and my face contorts in pain.
I played Russian roulette with the pot-luck lunch and found the bullet.
Damn garlic. It tastes so good but is literally killing me.
My eyes take in the festive treats.
Oh, how I love pot-luck lunches.
I spot a green goopy bowl of stuff. Next to that is some sort of macaroni thing. At the far end I see my contribution (3 dips guacamole, spinach, and onion/pepper) and notice somebody has already helped themselves.
Sandwich trays, fried chicken, fruit and veggies, and various salads temp me. Not to mention the dessert table.
My only problem is an allergy to garlic that has become legendary.
I try and sniff out the appealing items and am cautious.
While I wish I could just take a bit of everything, I know I can't. Garlic lurks behind every Tupperware lid.
I settle on a sandwich and pasta salad with a side of fruit. Not as much fun as, say, that platter of nachos, but I should be alright.
Not long after my meal, I feel the familiar cramps and my face contorts in pain.
I played Russian roulette with the pot-luck lunch and found the bullet.
Damn garlic. It tastes so good but is literally killing me.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Under pressure...
Do this.
Do that.
Do it now.
I want it now.
Now.
Now.
Now.
I mean I want it yesterday.
Where is it?
Nevermind, I don't need it anymore.
Forget that, I still need it, but I want it in blue.
And they wonder why I'm twitching.
Do that.
Do it now.
I want it now.
Now.
Now.
Now.
I mean I want it yesterday.
Where is it?
Nevermind, I don't need it anymore.
Forget that, I still need it, but I want it in blue.
And they wonder why I'm twitching.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
The ♥ of the matter...
Sometimes when your heart is broken in the smallest of pieces, you feel as if there are too many parts to put back together.
So, you gather the big pieces up, slap some glue on them and stick them back in the gaping holes.
You still have empty spaces where the tiny pieces are missing, but you begin to function without those parts.
Then one day, the wish that broke your heart so long ago presents itself and you realize that you no longer wish for it.
Your heart has finally healed. It is scarred and you can see the damage, but it works. It is different than before, but it still beats strong. Other wishes and desires pump through your veins and they are what keep you going.
It's that fact that makes you smile. Your heart can take a lickin' but keep on tickin'.
The open spaces from the initial damage have filled in with other things. Love, laughter, shoes, cats, and of course, chocolate.
Lots of chocolate.
So, you gather the big pieces up, slap some glue on them and stick them back in the gaping holes.
You still have empty spaces where the tiny pieces are missing, but you begin to function without those parts.
Then one day, the wish that broke your heart so long ago presents itself and you realize that you no longer wish for it.
Your heart has finally healed. It is scarred and you can see the damage, but it works. It is different than before, but it still beats strong. Other wishes and desires pump through your veins and they are what keep you going.
It's that fact that makes you smile. Your heart can take a lickin' but keep on tickin'.
The open spaces from the initial damage have filled in with other things. Love, laughter, shoes, cats, and of course, chocolate.
Lots of chocolate.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Beep...
Thank you for looking up Jennicula's blog.
She is currently unplugged at the moment and is unable to respond to your witty comments.
Should she return to the electronic age and get reconnected, you'll be the first to know.
She is currently unplugged at the moment and is unable to respond to your witty comments.
Should she return to the electronic age and get reconnected, you'll be the first to know.
Friday, August 12, 2011
Empty spaces...
And then there are times when I watch those shows on the Science Channel and I realize how tiny I am in the universe.
How insignificant a bad day really is in the grand scheme of things.
How we're all just part of the cosmos. Each and every one of us.
And then I feel better.
How insignificant a bad day really is in the grand scheme of things.
How we're all just part of the cosmos. Each and every one of us.
And then I feel better.
Monday, August 8, 2011
When the going gets though, the tough start drinking...
I don't advocate drinking to escape life, but sometimes I understand the urge. This was my weekend as it happened, not how I planned it.
1. Treated myself to lunch out on Friday. Got two consecutive glasses of iced-t with crap floating in it. Placed my order only to wait an hour to not get served. Had to bring lunch back to the office and eat at my desk.
2. Had lovely dinner with Willie. Decided to go out shopping afterwards. Not 5 minutes in the store my bowels decided to start a revolution. Spent too much time in a store bathroom that was hardly clean. Blech.
3. Got home and laid in bed. The room smelled funky so I lit a candle - only to have the cat jump on top of it. If my stomach wasn't rolling before, the smell of burnt cat hair will do it to you.
4. The next day I got insulted by a cashier by asking me when I was due. Due? Due for what? I knew what she was asking, but I wanted to make her squirm. She did and I felt better for making her uncomfortable, but now I must torch the offending clothing. (note: never ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever ask a woman if she's pregnant. No matter how pregnant you think she looks.)
5. Woke up on Sunday with a migraine. Nothing like greeting the morning sun with the wish that maybe my brain might slip out an ear, if only to make me feel better. It didn't.
6. Willie woke up with the same stomach dreck I had - and he NEVER gets sick.
7. Tried to nap off the migraine but it didn't work. But I did screw up my sleeping schedule so I didn't sleep. And now I'm whiney and cranky. A lovely combination.
8. Not that I was going to sleep much anyway. The boy came home in the middle of the night and needed medical attention. Hello? What? Nothin' says "I love you mom" more than a hand that might be broken a week before band camp (he plays the drums)by doing stupid shit with friends. He's fine.
1. Treated myself to lunch out on Friday. Got two consecutive glasses of iced-t with crap floating in it. Placed my order only to wait an hour to not get served. Had to bring lunch back to the office and eat at my desk.
2. Had lovely dinner with Willie. Decided to go out shopping afterwards. Not 5 minutes in the store my bowels decided to start a revolution. Spent too much time in a store bathroom that was hardly clean. Blech.
3. Got home and laid in bed. The room smelled funky so I lit a candle - only to have the cat jump on top of it. If my stomach wasn't rolling before, the smell of burnt cat hair will do it to you.
4. The next day I got insulted by a cashier by asking me when I was due. Due? Due for what? I knew what she was asking, but I wanted to make her squirm. She did and I felt better for making her uncomfortable, but now I must torch the offending clothing. (note: never ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever ask a woman if she's pregnant. No matter how pregnant you think she looks.)
5. Woke up on Sunday with a migraine. Nothing like greeting the morning sun with the wish that maybe my brain might slip out an ear, if only to make me feel better. It didn't.
6. Willie woke up with the same stomach dreck I had - and he NEVER gets sick.
7. Tried to nap off the migraine but it didn't work. But I did screw up my sleeping schedule so I didn't sleep. And now I'm whiney and cranky. A lovely combination.
8. Not that I was going to sleep much anyway. The boy came home in the middle of the night and needed medical attention. Hello? What? Nothin' says "I love you mom" more than a hand that might be broken a week before band camp (he plays the drums)by doing stupid shit with friends. He's fine.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Stuck inside an office with the Memphis blues again...
I press my head against the cool glass on the window as I wish to be elsewhere.
The temperature in my office does not match what is going on outside. I find it's almost chilly at my desk, whereas outside requires only a bathing suit and sun screen at best.
My fingers fiddle with a ball point pen.
I am restless.
I can faintly smell the suntan lotion on my skin and I try to think up some way to get out of work early.
But I don't think the boss is going to buy, "I have an emergency. My tan is fading."
The temperature in my office does not match what is going on outside. I find it's almost chilly at my desk, whereas outside requires only a bathing suit and sun screen at best.
My fingers fiddle with a ball point pen.
I am restless.
I can faintly smell the suntan lotion on my skin and I try to think up some way to get out of work early.
But I don't think the boss is going to buy, "I have an emergency. My tan is fading."
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Back to the stone age...
Thank you for looking up Jennicula's blog.
She is currently unplugged at the moment and is unable to respond to your witty comments.
Should she return to the electronic age and get reconnected, you'll be the first to know.
Until then...
Peace :)
She is currently unplugged at the moment and is unable to respond to your witty comments.
Should she return to the electronic age and get reconnected, you'll be the first to know.
Until then...
Peace :)
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Sunshine daydreams...
I feel the itch in my very being.
It's not like I can stop it. I can't take a medication for it because it's just me being me.
I feel that urge to disconnect.
Unplug the phone.
Turn off the computer.
Not that I want to be anti-social, but sometimes I need to just be me without all the outside influences.
I need fresh air.
I need to dance.
I need to sing.
I need to play in the water.
Sugar magnolia, blossoms blooming,
heads all empty and I don't care,
Saw my baby down by the river,
knew she'd have to come up soon for air.
Sweet blossom come on, under the willow,
we can have high times if you'll abide
We can discover the wonders of nature,
rolling in the rushes down by the riverside.
She's got everything delightful,
she's got everything I need,
Takes the wheel when Im seeing double,
pays my ticket when I speed
She comes skimmin through rays of violet,
she can wade in a drop of dew,
She don't come and I don't follow,
waits backstage while I sing to you.
Well, she can dance a cajun rhythm,
jump like a willys in four wheel drive.
Shes a summer love for spring, fall and winter
she can make happy any man alive.
Sugar magnolia, ringing that bluebell,
caught up in sunlight, come on out singing
Ill walk you in the sunshine,
come on honey, come along with me.
Shes got everything delightful,
she's got everything I need,
A breeze in the pines and the sun and bright moonlight,
lazing in the sunshine yes indeed.
Sometimes when the cuckoos crying,
when the moon is half way down,
Sometimes when the night is dying,
I take me out and I wander around, I wander round.
Sunshine, daydream, walking in the tall trees,
going where the wind goes
Blooming like a red rose,
breathing more freely,
Ride our singin,
I'll walk you in the morning sunshine
Sunshine, daydream. sunshine, daydream.
walking in the sunshine.
Sugar Magnolia, by The Grateful Dead
It's not like I can stop it. I can't take a medication for it because it's just me being me.
I feel that urge to disconnect.
Unplug the phone.
Turn off the computer.
Not that I want to be anti-social, but sometimes I need to just be me without all the outside influences.
I need fresh air.
I need to dance.
I need to sing.
I need to play in the water.
Sugar magnolia, blossoms blooming,
heads all empty and I don't care,
Saw my baby down by the river,
knew she'd have to come up soon for air.
Sweet blossom come on, under the willow,
we can have high times if you'll abide
We can discover the wonders of nature,
rolling in the rushes down by the riverside.
She's got everything delightful,
she's got everything I need,
Takes the wheel when Im seeing double,
pays my ticket when I speed
She comes skimmin through rays of violet,
she can wade in a drop of dew,
She don't come and I don't follow,
waits backstage while I sing to you.
Well, she can dance a cajun rhythm,
jump like a willys in four wheel drive.
Shes a summer love for spring, fall and winter
she can make happy any man alive.
Sugar magnolia, ringing that bluebell,
caught up in sunlight, come on out singing
Ill walk you in the sunshine,
come on honey, come along with me.
Shes got everything delightful,
she's got everything I need,
A breeze in the pines and the sun and bright moonlight,
lazing in the sunshine yes indeed.
Sometimes when the cuckoos crying,
when the moon is half way down,
Sometimes when the night is dying,
I take me out and I wander around, I wander round.
Sunshine, daydream, walking in the tall trees,
going where the wind goes
Blooming like a red rose,
breathing more freely,
Ride our singin,
I'll walk you in the morning sunshine
Sunshine, daydream. sunshine, daydream.
walking in the sunshine.
Sugar Magnolia, by The Grateful Dead
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Today I was the statue instead of the pigeon...
I have a general feeling of ickiness.
That's the only word that explains the feeling in my gut.
I was ineffective at work.
I was met with open hostility and passive aggressive behavior. I was even told I disturbed someone today.
Now, every time I think about going back to work I get an anxious feeling that makes the palms of my hands cold and clammy.
I just want to crawl into bed with a box of chocolates and make this day go away.
That's the only word that explains the feeling in my gut.
I was ineffective at work.
I was met with open hostility and passive aggressive behavior. I was even told I disturbed someone today.
Now, every time I think about going back to work I get an anxious feeling that makes the palms of my hands cold and clammy.
I just want to crawl into bed with a box of chocolates and make this day go away.
Monday, June 27, 2011
I do...
I was there for a moment to witness something great.
I had missed many of those times in his life and I regret it. I was the big sister, but wasn't a very good one.
I attribute it to being selfish and immature on my part.
He said his vows and I watched him become a "real" adult.
Not that he was a child in reality, but in my minds eye, he was still a kid.
He took her hand and I watched him soak in her beauty.
All he could do was beam at her.
She is all his.
Someone to share his life with.
I am just so happy for him that he found the girl who answers the call of his heart.
As I watch the love pass between the two, I hold your hand and give it a little squeeze.
My silent way of telling you that I'd do it all over again.
And again.
And again.
I had missed many of those times in his life and I regret it. I was the big sister, but wasn't a very good one.
I attribute it to being selfish and immature on my part.
He said his vows and I watched him become a "real" adult.
Not that he was a child in reality, but in my minds eye, he was still a kid.
He took her hand and I watched him soak in her beauty.
All he could do was beam at her.
She is all his.
Someone to share his life with.
I am just so happy for him that he found the girl who answers the call of his heart.
As I watch the love pass between the two, I hold your hand and give it a little squeeze.
My silent way of telling you that I'd do it all over again.
And again.
And again.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Rainy days and funny ways...
As I sit outside on my back porch, I wait for the storm to roll in.
Only minutes before, the air was stale from lack of a breeze. My clothes are stuck to me from the humidity that makes my home feel like a sauna.
The birds stopped their chirping and the quiet of the day becomes apparent.
Here it comes.
The preliminary wind teases movement out of the upper branches of the trees. The leaves appear as it they are reaching for the sky seeking nourishment. For a moment the trees look as if they are somehow taller.
The dark clouds whirl above me and I see them become the uniform grey.
The wind picks up and the breeze propels the staleness of the day away.
In with the good. Out with the bad.
The first rain drop hits the deck with a definitive "SPLAT!"
It is cold and refreshing and it makes me smile.
I didn't realize that I had missed a good soaking rain.
The rain comes faster and heavier until all I can hear is the pounding of the raindrops on the cement.
The rain pounds the ground so hard that the drops bounce up and hit me in the shins.
I inhale the fresh scent of the earth. It was so dry over the last week that all good smells were dehydrated into a dust.
The rain cleans away the dust that appeared to cover everything. My doomed potted plants soak in the rain and appear to be a bit greener even with just this little refreshment.
I ponder whether I should go out and stand in the middle of the yard and just get rained on. Wash the day off of me and a little bit of dirt too.
Really, what could it hurt?
Only minutes before, the air was stale from lack of a breeze. My clothes are stuck to me from the humidity that makes my home feel like a sauna.
The birds stopped their chirping and the quiet of the day becomes apparent.
Here it comes.
The preliminary wind teases movement out of the upper branches of the trees. The leaves appear as it they are reaching for the sky seeking nourishment. For a moment the trees look as if they are somehow taller.
The dark clouds whirl above me and I see them become the uniform grey.
The wind picks up and the breeze propels the staleness of the day away.
In with the good. Out with the bad.
The first rain drop hits the deck with a definitive "SPLAT!"
It is cold and refreshing and it makes me smile.
I didn't realize that I had missed a good soaking rain.
The rain comes faster and heavier until all I can hear is the pounding of the raindrops on the cement.
The rain pounds the ground so hard that the drops bounce up and hit me in the shins.
I inhale the fresh scent of the earth. It was so dry over the last week that all good smells were dehydrated into a dust.
The rain cleans away the dust that appeared to cover everything. My doomed potted plants soak in the rain and appear to be a bit greener even with just this little refreshment.
I ponder whether I should go out and stand in the middle of the yard and just get rained on. Wash the day off of me and a little bit of dirt too.
Really, what could it hurt?
Monday, June 13, 2011
Winer...
My wine pops the cork on my writing slump.
The more I imbibe, the more I find ideas where I can't scribble fast enough.
I don't advocate altering yourself to become creative.
I just find that sometimes - with a chemical shield - I am able to delve a bit and pull out those thoughts that have been rambling around in my head.
Maybe I achieve the alcohol cape I"m waiting for.
Maybe it just loosens my inhibitions so I'm open to sharing.
My mask has a kryptonite. A certain flaw.
It's tinted red and made of mashed grapes.
I drink my wine and empty my mind of those things that hang around like apparitions.
I let them loose on paper and then walk away.
A perfect purging of the good, the bad, and the ugly.
The more I imbibe, the more I find ideas where I can't scribble fast enough.
I don't advocate altering yourself to become creative.
I just find that sometimes - with a chemical shield - I am able to delve a bit and pull out those thoughts that have been rambling around in my head.
Maybe I achieve the alcohol cape I"m waiting for.
Maybe it just loosens my inhibitions so I'm open to sharing.
My mask has a kryptonite. A certain flaw.
It's tinted red and made of mashed grapes.
I drink my wine and empty my mind of those things that hang around like apparitions.
I let them loose on paper and then walk away.
A perfect purging of the good, the bad, and the ugly.
Monday, June 6, 2011
I Sea You...
How many times can I write about the beach?
Endless times apparently.
Early spring in the South finds me digging my toes in the sand with the ocean breeze washing over me.
I always feel it. The release of stress and tension.
The sound of the gentle surf becomes white noise and pushes all nagging thoughts out of my head.
The suns rays land on my shoulders and warm my soul.
The smile that was buried beneath the layers of winter and long travel pushes it's way to the forefront and I can't hide it anymore.
Some people talk to therapists. Others resort to self-medicating. My cure-all is the beach.
While I love lazing upon the hot sand and soaking up the sun, what I really, truly love is just the beach in general.
I love the beach even when I have to wear long pants and shoes. It's better when I can grind my bare toes in the sand, but the beach is my centering focus.
I can walk for miles in the surf. Walking and talking and poking dead sea creatures with a stick.
As the breeze ruffles my hair I begin to feel lighter in mood and spirit.
My laugh comes easily as the sun cleanses my aura.
We walk hand-in-hand for miles.
My foot prints left behind me are washed away as the gentle waves erase proof that I was there.
I always feel that when I witness that, that in reality my footprints are the bits of stress I'm walking away from and that the ocean erases the evidence.
The more footprints I leave behind to get sucked out with the tide, the less stress I will have.
The sun kisses my skin and the wind blows my hair and I smile.
I'm with you doing something I love. That relaxes me to no end.
Why is it that we live so far from the ocean again?
Endless times apparently.
Early spring in the South finds me digging my toes in the sand with the ocean breeze washing over me.
I always feel it. The release of stress and tension.
The sound of the gentle surf becomes white noise and pushes all nagging thoughts out of my head.
The suns rays land on my shoulders and warm my soul.
The smile that was buried beneath the layers of winter and long travel pushes it's way to the forefront and I can't hide it anymore.
Some people talk to therapists. Others resort to self-medicating. My cure-all is the beach.
While I love lazing upon the hot sand and soaking up the sun, what I really, truly love is just the beach in general.
I love the beach even when I have to wear long pants and shoes. It's better when I can grind my bare toes in the sand, but the beach is my centering focus.
I can walk for miles in the surf. Walking and talking and poking dead sea creatures with a stick.
As the breeze ruffles my hair I begin to feel lighter in mood and spirit.
My laugh comes easily as the sun cleanses my aura.
We walk hand-in-hand for miles.
My foot prints left behind me are washed away as the gentle waves erase proof that I was there.
I always feel that when I witness that, that in reality my footprints are the bits of stress I'm walking away from and that the ocean erases the evidence.
The more footprints I leave behind to get sucked out with the tide, the less stress I will have.
The sun kisses my skin and the wind blows my hair and I smile.
I'm with you doing something I love. That relaxes me to no end.
Why is it that we live so far from the ocean again?
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Under Doggery...
The sound of silence thundered through the room after the announcement.
I could swear that I heard myself blink.
Most of the occupants froze on the spot. Not looking an any one person in particular.
I watched people mentally shut down.
It wasn't quite the reaction I expected.
I expected something, but not this.
Even the most verbal of the bunch was stunned into silence. That's actually a pretty amazing feat seeing that most of the time you can't even staple her lips shut for a moment of quiet.
It made me realize that the right choice had been made and that I'm a real threat to those around me - which they felt I wasn't before.
Go me.
I could swear that I heard myself blink.
Most of the occupants froze on the spot. Not looking an any one person in particular.
I watched people mentally shut down.
It wasn't quite the reaction I expected.
I expected something, but not this.
Even the most verbal of the bunch was stunned into silence. That's actually a pretty amazing feat seeing that most of the time you can't even staple her lips shut for a moment of quiet.
It made me realize that the right choice had been made and that I'm a real threat to those around me - which they felt I wasn't before.
Go me.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Reaffirmation...
I picked up the receiver and recognized her voice immediately.
My name plays like music across the telephone line into my ear and I can't help but smile.
She is one of my favorite friends. We're not best friends, but we're the next best thing. Time well invested in a soul much like mine.
She had always been that girl whom everybody loved immediately. Myself included.
The best time of my life has her peppered through it. I think back on those times with a smile.
We talk about who we know and what's going on in our lives.
I realize that we don't talk enough, I should call her more often. I miss her and her laugh.
Then for a moment she becomes serious with me and tells me something that makes me smile and fills me with warmth.
She tells me that one of her happiest, most fun days ever was with me. It was just the two of us that day and it was always one of those days I think of as a favorite of mine as well.
What I realize is that she thinks of me as fondly as I of her.
My life is filled with self-doubt. A lack of something.
I never think that my encounters register on anybody's scale. That I am not worthy enough to impact anybody.
I don't write this for confirmation or anything else. I write this because in an innocent moment, I found that if maybe I tear down the wall a little bit more, I would see - really see - that I've always been worth it.
And risking getting exposed can be better because the rewards are out there.
If only I weren't so afraid to go for it.
My name plays like music across the telephone line into my ear and I can't help but smile.
She is one of my favorite friends. We're not best friends, but we're the next best thing. Time well invested in a soul much like mine.
She had always been that girl whom everybody loved immediately. Myself included.
The best time of my life has her peppered through it. I think back on those times with a smile.
We talk about who we know and what's going on in our lives.
I realize that we don't talk enough, I should call her more often. I miss her and her laugh.
Then for a moment she becomes serious with me and tells me something that makes me smile and fills me with warmth.
She tells me that one of her happiest, most fun days ever was with me. It was just the two of us that day and it was always one of those days I think of as a favorite of mine as well.
What I realize is that she thinks of me as fondly as I of her.
My life is filled with self-doubt. A lack of something.
I never think that my encounters register on anybody's scale. That I am not worthy enough to impact anybody.
I don't write this for confirmation or anything else. I write this because in an innocent moment, I found that if maybe I tear down the wall a little bit more, I would see - really see - that I've always been worth it.
And risking getting exposed can be better because the rewards are out there.
If only I weren't so afraid to go for it.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Slice of 3.14159
I know I'm not stupid, but sometimes I feel that way.
The bane of my existence is Math. Oh, how I despise word problems with the fire of a thousand suns. Math is it's own special circle of Hell for me.
Basic Algebra boggles my mind. I mean, I can do it - slowly - but I'm missing the understanding.
I truly believe you can teach anybody the "How to" but you can't teach understanding. Either you get it or you don't.
If somebody taught me how to build a car, I"m pretty sure I could do it. But I still wouldn't understand how it would work.
The same theory goes for me for Math.
I married a Physic/Mathematician. He gets the numbers like a second language. There are times when I have him explain to me the quantum physics of a rocket ship flying around the moon and how it's longer going one way and shorter going the other way. It just makes my head swim.
To me it's all gibberish.
I remember my Algebra teacher once telling me that Math was important and that I'd need to use it when I got older.
I told him that I was going to marry someone who could do Math and I'd never have to use it again.
And I did.
Now I"m older and I realize that I do need those skills. Not for my job but for my kid.
His math brings me back to my hyperventilating perplexed self in school.
Maybe it's a good thing for him because he spends his time trying to teach me what he's just learned.
Now that I understand it any better today.
Now when he explains it multiple times ever so patiently to me do I realize I am teaching him something important in life.
Patience and compassion.
The bane of my existence is Math. Oh, how I despise word problems with the fire of a thousand suns. Math is it's own special circle of Hell for me.
Basic Algebra boggles my mind. I mean, I can do it - slowly - but I'm missing the understanding.
I truly believe you can teach anybody the "How to" but you can't teach understanding. Either you get it or you don't.
If somebody taught me how to build a car, I"m pretty sure I could do it. But I still wouldn't understand how it would work.
The same theory goes for me for Math.
I married a Physic/Mathematician. He gets the numbers like a second language. There are times when I have him explain to me the quantum physics of a rocket ship flying around the moon and how it's longer going one way and shorter going the other way. It just makes my head swim.
To me it's all gibberish.
I remember my Algebra teacher once telling me that Math was important and that I'd need to use it when I got older.
I told him that I was going to marry someone who could do Math and I'd never have to use it again.
And I did.
Now I"m older and I realize that I do need those skills. Not for my job but for my kid.
His math brings me back to my hyperventilating perplexed self in school.
Maybe it's a good thing for him because he spends his time trying to teach me what he's just learned.
Now that I understand it any better today.
Now when he explains it multiple times ever so patiently to me do I realize I am teaching him something important in life.
Patience and compassion.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Try and try again...
It's that time of the year again where I purchase the flora to put in my back yard.
Little do these poor plants know that by going home with me, I am certain death to them.
I take the time to replant my newest additions. Their sunny faces turn up towards me in anticipation of TLC.
I talk sweetly to them and give them encouragement to grow and multiply.
My flower garden is once again flourishing with greenery and color. I am pleased with the outcome.
My watering can overflows with good intentions.
Too bad it's only a matter of weeks before my garden is cremated by the sun.
Little do these poor plants know that by going home with me, I am certain death to them.
I take the time to replant my newest additions. Their sunny faces turn up towards me in anticipation of TLC.
I talk sweetly to them and give them encouragement to grow and multiply.
My flower garden is once again flourishing with greenery and color. I am pleased with the outcome.
My watering can overflows with good intentions.
Too bad it's only a matter of weeks before my garden is cremated by the sun.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Oldies but goodies...
As I was walking out of the restaurant, my eyes glanced at the other patrons waiting to be seated.
There I saw them. I look every time I eat there, but hadn't seen them in several months,
The old man and his wife whom I watched one night. Soaking in the comfortable movements with each other. It had been obvious to me that they had spent a long time with each other by their second nature behavior towards one another.
Watching them months ago made me hope for that type of ease with you in this life.
I was pleased when I spotted them and pointed them out to you.
A smile spread across your face.
You, too, had been searching for them every night when went there but never found their faces in the crowd.
We both felt a sense of relief. All was good in the world.
I wonder why we both feel the same way abut this elderly couple? We don't know them and have really only seen the a few times.
Either way, it was an unexpected treat to see them and that they were still able to get out and about to have dinner, share noodles, and then a scoop of ice-cream.
Oh, what a wonderful world it is.
There I saw them. I look every time I eat there, but hadn't seen them in several months,
The old man and his wife whom I watched one night. Soaking in the comfortable movements with each other. It had been obvious to me that they had spent a long time with each other by their second nature behavior towards one another.
Watching them months ago made me hope for that type of ease with you in this life.
I was pleased when I spotted them and pointed them out to you.
A smile spread across your face.
You, too, had been searching for them every night when went there but never found their faces in the crowd.
We both felt a sense of relief. All was good in the world.
I wonder why we both feel the same way abut this elderly couple? We don't know them and have really only seen the a few times.
Either way, it was an unexpected treat to see them and that they were still able to get out and about to have dinner, share noodles, and then a scoop of ice-cream.
Oh, what a wonderful world it is.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Great Balls of Fire...
The smoke billows up from the buildings that are in the midst of a raging fire.
I watch the television helplessly. I know people who live there. Rather, lived there. Nothing I can do can help them or stop the flames from eating up the irreplaceable love letters and photographs.
My mother calls me in a panic, "Can you see the smoke?"
"No, but I can smell it."
I hear the fire engines roar past my neighborhood. They keep coming as the fire grabs a hold of the fourth building.
All I can think of are all the pets that will be lost in this blaze. No owners were hurt, but pets lost.
My eyes tear up as I watch the buildings crumble. Physically so close to my home, yet my loved ones and I are very safe. And so are my friends.
Their lives have just hit a large hurdle.
Again, I am reminded of how lucky I am in this crazy world.
I watch the television helplessly. I know people who live there. Rather, lived there. Nothing I can do can help them or stop the flames from eating up the irreplaceable love letters and photographs.
My mother calls me in a panic, "Can you see the smoke?"
"No, but I can smell it."
I hear the fire engines roar past my neighborhood. They keep coming as the fire grabs a hold of the fourth building.
All I can think of are all the pets that will be lost in this blaze. No owners were hurt, but pets lost.
My eyes tear up as I watch the buildings crumble. Physically so close to my home, yet my loved ones and I are very safe. And so are my friends.
Their lives have just hit a large hurdle.
Again, I am reminded of how lucky I am in this crazy world.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Perfect 10...
My house smells like bacon and cookies.
There's a fire ablaze in the hearth.
Billie Holiday is singing in the background.
The cats are snuggled up to us purring quietly.
And I have you sitting next to me doing crossword puzzles.
Today is a perfect day.
There's a fire ablaze in the hearth.
Billie Holiday is singing in the background.
The cats are snuggled up to us purring quietly.
And I have you sitting next to me doing crossword puzzles.
Today is a perfect day.
Monday, April 4, 2011
You've got to move it, move it...
I have the "itch."
It tugs on my mind constantly today.
It fills the great void with, and then... and then... and then.
What can I say?
I'm neurotic. Harmless but nuts anyway.
I wonder where this behavior comes from? Is it genetic or conditional?
As I sit and write, my mind still plays with the thoughts of rearranging my house.
If I move the Hope Chest to the other side of the pink thing and then move the chair and table to where the Hope Chest was - that might look nice.
And then turn the bed the other way and then move the high-boy over there and then move the bookcase over - or just switch the bookcase and high-boy - and then move the side table and then turn the carpet - that might look nice.
As my mother will attest, I moved a lot as a kid. I constantly had new rooms to fill up and move around.
It never mattered how large or small my room was, I moved things around on a regular basis.
What makes me laugh today was the realization that when I was very young and unable to move the larger things by myself, I would rope my mother into helping me.
I don't remember ever hearing her complain as she shoved my bed around the room. I just remember her doing it.
When I got older I continued moving things.
My roommates in college seemed to not mind my quirks and let me move things around to my hearts content. I was never questioned and they all seemed to welcome the changes.
Do they look back on that time saying, "I once lived with this girl who moved the furniture around all the time."?
It makes me laugh.
Now I'm eyeballing the Hope Chest and quietly picturing in my head the proposed change.
It's going to be a lot of work.
Maybe I'll just play Sims instead and redesign my house there.
At least I won't pull any muscles.
It tugs on my mind constantly today.
It fills the great void with, and then... and then... and then.
What can I say?
I'm neurotic. Harmless but nuts anyway.
I wonder where this behavior comes from? Is it genetic or conditional?
As I sit and write, my mind still plays with the thoughts of rearranging my house.
If I move the Hope Chest to the other side of the pink thing and then move the chair and table to where the Hope Chest was - that might look nice.
And then turn the bed the other way and then move the high-boy over there and then move the bookcase over - or just switch the bookcase and high-boy - and then move the side table and then turn the carpet - that might look nice.
As my mother will attest, I moved a lot as a kid. I constantly had new rooms to fill up and move around.
It never mattered how large or small my room was, I moved things around on a regular basis.
What makes me laugh today was the realization that when I was very young and unable to move the larger things by myself, I would rope my mother into helping me.
I don't remember ever hearing her complain as she shoved my bed around the room. I just remember her doing it.
When I got older I continued moving things.
My roommates in college seemed to not mind my quirks and let me move things around to my hearts content. I was never questioned and they all seemed to welcome the changes.
Do they look back on that time saying, "I once lived with this girl who moved the furniture around all the time."?
It makes me laugh.
Now I'm eyeballing the Hope Chest and quietly picturing in my head the proposed change.
It's going to be a lot of work.
Maybe I'll just play Sims instead and redesign my house there.
At least I won't pull any muscles.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Unplugged...
It's that time of the year when I purposefully unplug from the world.
Not because I'm angry or hurt or worried about something, but because I just know it's good for me to take a step back and recharge myself.
My days are spent sleeping and reading. Cooking and eating. Sharing love and laughter with my best friend.
I don't need and expensive get-away. All I need is to be enveloped with the ones I love and do the things I love to do.
I unplug from work and high maintenance acquaintances.
I unplug from the outside world and the ugliness that surrounds it.
I know it's the right thing to do because I wind up smiling and laughing more.
My mind runs amok with ideas and I'm starting to get the itch for remodeling a room in the house.
As I unplug, I wind up finding bits of me that had been plowed over by various bombardments.
Now all I need is to win the lottery so I can continue to be a happy hermit.
Not because I'm angry or hurt or worried about something, but because I just know it's good for me to take a step back and recharge myself.
My days are spent sleeping and reading. Cooking and eating. Sharing love and laughter with my best friend.
I don't need and expensive get-away. All I need is to be enveloped with the ones I love and do the things I love to do.
I unplug from work and high maintenance acquaintances.
I unplug from the outside world and the ugliness that surrounds it.
I know it's the right thing to do because I wind up smiling and laughing more.
My mind runs amok with ideas and I'm starting to get the itch for remodeling a room in the house.
As I unplug, I wind up finding bits of me that had been plowed over by various bombardments.
Now all I need is to win the lottery so I can continue to be a happy hermit.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Bumming out...
Why is it that when I take a vacation my clothes make me look homeless?
Is it because my work clothes are so binding? High heels that contort my feet - tights that cling to my skin - skirts that don't let a person breathe?
As I gaze at my reflection in the mirror, I see a person who looks as if she brushed her hair with an egg beater.
The faded and torn jeans have been thoroughly broken in. They were not purchased "distressed." These jeans are worn out.
The sweater is large and comfortable with the long sleeves rolled up to my elbows.
My eyes twinkle back at me and I laugh.
If only my work would allow this type of attire.
Imagine how the business world attitude would change if we were allowed to work in whatever made us happy.
I think my world would be a better and softer place to be.
Is it because my work clothes are so binding? High heels that contort my feet - tights that cling to my skin - skirts that don't let a person breathe?
As I gaze at my reflection in the mirror, I see a person who looks as if she brushed her hair with an egg beater.
The faded and torn jeans have been thoroughly broken in. They were not purchased "distressed." These jeans are worn out.
The sweater is large and comfortable with the long sleeves rolled up to my elbows.
My eyes twinkle back at me and I laugh.
If only my work would allow this type of attire.
Imagine how the business world attitude would change if we were allowed to work in whatever made us happy.
I think my world would be a better and softer place to be.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Kamikaze Blapper
It was supposed to be a secret treat.
A whispered phone call and quiet plans.
Nothing crazy - just a date at noon.
Not a nooner.
We greet each other with a kiss and then head to our destination holding hands.
I grab a table while you place our order.
The cook calls our number and you grab our lunch.
You sit across from me and smile as I take my first bite.
You turned for a moment to greet the person behind you. I know you didn't want to ignore a familiar face.
The simple politeness cost us our alone time.
What started out as a "Hey, how's it going?" turned into an "all about Steve" fest.
He hijacked my date.
Talking about his new car and how great it is. How great he is. How great he's always been.
It would've been funny if it weren't so sad.
He spends his entire time trying to sell himself to you.
I'm not really considered since I'm just a woman and obviously not nearly as smart or great or interesting as he is.
His loss.
I finish my lunch and urge you to do the same.
The clock on the wall tells me it's time to head back to the exciting world of shuffling papers again.
Our private get-away was torpedoed and there was no time to fix it.
Next time I think we should be rude and ignore everyone.
A whispered phone call and quiet plans.
Nothing crazy - just a date at noon.
Not a nooner.
We greet each other with a kiss and then head to our destination holding hands.
I grab a table while you place our order.
The cook calls our number and you grab our lunch.
You sit across from me and smile as I take my first bite.
You turned for a moment to greet the person behind you. I know you didn't want to ignore a familiar face.
The simple politeness cost us our alone time.
What started out as a "Hey, how's it going?" turned into an "all about Steve" fest.
He hijacked my date.
Talking about his new car and how great it is. How great he is. How great he's always been.
It would've been funny if it weren't so sad.
He spends his entire time trying to sell himself to you.
I'm not really considered since I'm just a woman and obviously not nearly as smart or great or interesting as he is.
His loss.
I finish my lunch and urge you to do the same.
The clock on the wall tells me it's time to head back to the exciting world of shuffling papers again.
Our private get-away was torpedoed and there was no time to fix it.
Next time I think we should be rude and ignore everyone.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Drive by Peeper...
I don't drive that much at night anymore. Everything seems too dark. Darker than it used to be.
Since I'm a passenger at night, I get to spend my time gazing out the window.
I love to drive past homes with their lights on.
Not to see what the occupants are doing. That would ruin if for me.
I want to see how the homes are decorated. Are the walls cluttered with pictures? Are they bare? Why did they paint that wall that color? Don't they know people can see inside their homes? Do they even care?
While I love to be a drive-by peeper, my intentions are purely nosy.
My home is buttoned up tight. I use my curtains as an unpenetratable shield. My walls and decorations remain a mystery to the outside world.
I enjoy peering inside other peoples homes, but I don't want people peering inside mine.
I'm a hypocrite I know, but it is what it is.
Since I'm a passenger at night, I get to spend my time gazing out the window.
I love to drive past homes with their lights on.
Not to see what the occupants are doing. That would ruin if for me.
I want to see how the homes are decorated. Are the walls cluttered with pictures? Are they bare? Why did they paint that wall that color? Don't they know people can see inside their homes? Do they even care?
While I love to be a drive-by peeper, my intentions are purely nosy.
My home is buttoned up tight. I use my curtains as an unpenetratable shield. My walls and decorations remain a mystery to the outside world.
I enjoy peering inside other peoples homes, but I don't want people peering inside mine.
I'm a hypocrite I know, but it is what it is.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Three Sheets...
Laughter filled the kitchen again.
It had been a while since I had seen my friends.
I bumble around. My fingers clumsy and my speech wanting to be slurred.
I have forgotten that this friendship was alcohol-based. Not that a few toddies are a bad thing, but I'm a light-weight anymore.
A couple of double martinis knock me for a loop.
My laughter comes freely and I am of a loose mood. I lean on the counter and laugh at the stupid ideas - which at the moment sound pretty good.
I know tomorrow I will have to go to work.
I know tomorrow my head will pound and my stomach will churn all day.
I also know that right now I treasure my friends more than a hangover.
Cheers!
It had been a while since I had seen my friends.
I bumble around. My fingers clumsy and my speech wanting to be slurred.
I have forgotten that this friendship was alcohol-based. Not that a few toddies are a bad thing, but I'm a light-weight anymore.
A couple of double martinis knock me for a loop.
My laughter comes freely and I am of a loose mood. I lean on the counter and laugh at the stupid ideas - which at the moment sound pretty good.
I know tomorrow I will have to go to work.
I know tomorrow my head will pound and my stomach will churn all day.
I also know that right now I treasure my friends more than a hangover.
Cheers!
Friday, February 25, 2011
lost...
I take a moment to hide and I'm pounced upon once I'm found.
Can you do this?
Can you do that?
I need...
My day is filled with those demands.
I've been asked to take on a new project recently. While at first I was pleased to be given such an important task, I'm starting to wonder what I've gotten myself in to.
Did I get suckered into it because this thing is going to be a nightmare?
I take my notes and write down my questions and I feel panic start to fill my brain.
Did I find the flaw nobody was counting on?
I think I did.
While I try to see the forest, I'm stuck focusing on the trees. There are just so many trees.
Too many trees.
Can you do this?
Can you do that?
I need...
My day is filled with those demands.
I've been asked to take on a new project recently. While at first I was pleased to be given such an important task, I'm starting to wonder what I've gotten myself in to.
Did I get suckered into it because this thing is going to be a nightmare?
I take my notes and write down my questions and I feel panic start to fill my brain.
Did I find the flaw nobody was counting on?
I think I did.
While I try to see the forest, I'm stuck focusing on the trees. There are just so many trees.
Too many trees.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Malfunction...
1. WTF with hot flashes? I woke up this weekend and found the extreme heat of my internal temperature gage that had gone haywire triggered an early wake-up call.
2. My cats have a different time schedule than I do. I like to sleep late and not be bothered or bother anyone. They like to get up early and jump on my head.
3. Why is it that when I wake up and feel chubby, none of my pants fit me except for the old broken in jeans and then they rip?
4. My skin looks like corn flakes. I am so incredibly dry I might even be deemed a biological hazard. I feel like I might be human tinder and spontaneously combust.
5. I generally hate early spring. It's too hot, it's too cold. Everything is dirty and muddy. All the colors in nature are beige. I prefer to roll from winter right into late spring.
6. People are stupid. I think this is due to the fact that most people have been cooped up inside for too long and now that it's somewhat nice out, they don't know what to do with themselves but get in my way.
7. Drivers are rude. I don't care if you pass me, but I do mind when if you drive so close that I can smell your breath. And, I really don't appreciate it when you cut me off and then give me the finger.
8. Weird co-workers. I don't want to hear your life's story while I'm in the restroom. I don't want to comment on the cutesy emails that are bombarding me all day long. Sending them twice does not mean I'm going to answer. I saw them the first time, I just chose to ignore them.
9. The time change. Don't move your clock an hour forward or back. Just leave it alone. The time change messes me up and makes me crankier.
10. I seem to have all the time in the world for my life and then reality steps in and I wonder when I'm going to get it all done. I need a stop-watch that actually stops time so I can get all my crap done.
2. My cats have a different time schedule than I do. I like to sleep late and not be bothered or bother anyone. They like to get up early and jump on my head.
3. Why is it that when I wake up and feel chubby, none of my pants fit me except for the old broken in jeans and then they rip?
4. My skin looks like corn flakes. I am so incredibly dry I might even be deemed a biological hazard. I feel like I might be human tinder and spontaneously combust.
5. I generally hate early spring. It's too hot, it's too cold. Everything is dirty and muddy. All the colors in nature are beige. I prefer to roll from winter right into late spring.
6. People are stupid. I think this is due to the fact that most people have been cooped up inside for too long and now that it's somewhat nice out, they don't know what to do with themselves but get in my way.
7. Drivers are rude. I don't care if you pass me, but I do mind when if you drive so close that I can smell your breath. And, I really don't appreciate it when you cut me off and then give me the finger.
8. Weird co-workers. I don't want to hear your life's story while I'm in the restroom. I don't want to comment on the cutesy emails that are bombarding me all day long. Sending them twice does not mean I'm going to answer. I saw them the first time, I just chose to ignore them.
9. The time change. Don't move your clock an hour forward or back. Just leave it alone. The time change messes me up and makes me crankier.
10. I seem to have all the time in the world for my life and then reality steps in and I wonder when I'm going to get it all done. I need a stop-watch that actually stops time so I can get all my crap done.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Good Morning Moon...
The house is dark and quiet. Most of the occupants are asleep.
Not sure why I am awake, but I am.
I pad around in the dark. Trying to figure out what drove me out of a deep sleep.
When I find nothing, I peer out the window.
There the moon hangs low and full behind the bare trees.
It is pre-dawn and the neighborhood is quiet. I look to see if anybody else is up wandering around and I see the other homes dark with slumber.
I find myself smiling (a rarity for me in the morning) at the thought of being one of the few people that day seeing the moon in that way.
I sit for a bit staring outside and enjoy the view. Just a secret peek I was gifted to see.
Maybe that's why I woke up so early. A wake-up call from the heavens that were just a "good morning' to me.
Well OK then.
Good morning right back at'cha.
Not sure why I am awake, but I am.
I pad around in the dark. Trying to figure out what drove me out of a deep sleep.
When I find nothing, I peer out the window.
There the moon hangs low and full behind the bare trees.
It is pre-dawn and the neighborhood is quiet. I look to see if anybody else is up wandering around and I see the other homes dark with slumber.
I find myself smiling (a rarity for me in the morning) at the thought of being one of the few people that day seeing the moon in that way.
I sit for a bit staring outside and enjoy the view. Just a secret peek I was gifted to see.
Maybe that's why I woke up so early. A wake-up call from the heavens that were just a "good morning' to me.
Well OK then.
Good morning right back at'cha.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
My bite is worse than my bark...
Maybe it's that "time of the month" for me.
Maybe I've had it with sunlight and vitamin D depravity.
Maybe all the cold and snow has driven me over the edge.
Maybe it's the ass dragging head-cold that's got me down.
I don't know.
But I feel like everybody is plucking my last nerve today.
Some bastard ate my lunch at work today and when I went to go buy a new one, the chick behind the counter tried to harass me into eating something I didn't like. And then someone stole my good parking spot.
Now I'm just feeling like knocking over a few old ladies and mocking a few children.
Maybe I should go home before I get myself in trouble.
Maybe I've had it with sunlight and vitamin D depravity.
Maybe all the cold and snow has driven me over the edge.
Maybe it's the ass dragging head-cold that's got me down.
I don't know.
But I feel like everybody is plucking my last nerve today.
Some bastard ate my lunch at work today and when I went to go buy a new one, the chick behind the counter tried to harass me into eating something I didn't like. And then someone stole my good parking spot.
Now I'm just feeling like knocking over a few old ladies and mocking a few children.
Maybe I should go home before I get myself in trouble.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
The Boy...
He gets me in a head-lock and gives me a noogie.
I guess this is just his way of telling me he loves me.
He is taller than me now.
I remember when he was just thisbig. I would wrap my arms around him and blow raspberries on his neck just to hear him giggle.
He smelled like cookies and a little bit of kid dirt.
Now he smells like a regular person. No more magical child smell. He's a regular dude now.
Most days he blocks me out of his life. Always surly and private.
I just want to make sure he's doing ok in his world.
Today, however he laughs with me.
Maybe even at me - but I enjoy the music of his laughter just the same.
I guess this is just his way of telling me he loves me.
He is taller than me now.
I remember when he was just thisbig. I would wrap my arms around him and blow raspberries on his neck just to hear him giggle.
He smelled like cookies and a little bit of kid dirt.
Now he smells like a regular person. No more magical child smell. He's a regular dude now.
Most days he blocks me out of his life. Always surly and private.
I just want to make sure he's doing ok in his world.
Today, however he laughs with me.
Maybe even at me - but I enjoy the music of his laughter just the same.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Easing Rider...
My day started out exactly the way I wanted - late.
I eased into consciousness and welcomed the sounds of my world waking up along with me.
The cats purring as they were buried in the covers next to me. The warmth of their bodies heating mine.
A sleepy face peers at me with the ever present question in his eyes - "Is she cranky?"
I stretch lazily and smile at him.
It's going to be a good day.
I throw the covers back and head towards the bathroom.
Out of sheer habit, I pull back the curtains to check on the world outside.
There I see it.
Giddiness overcomes me and I start to clap.
Why is it that I always get so excited about the first snow of the season?
The large flakes float down to Earth like feathers falling from the sky.
I am held at the window gazing at the world outside with a huge smile.
I do love winter and I'm ready for it.
I eased into consciousness and welcomed the sounds of my world waking up along with me.
The cats purring as they were buried in the covers next to me. The warmth of their bodies heating mine.
A sleepy face peers at me with the ever present question in his eyes - "Is she cranky?"
I stretch lazily and smile at him.
It's going to be a good day.
I throw the covers back and head towards the bathroom.
Out of sheer habit, I pull back the curtains to check on the world outside.
There I see it.
Giddiness overcomes me and I start to clap.
Why is it that I always get so excited about the first snow of the season?
The large flakes float down to Earth like feathers falling from the sky.
I am held at the window gazing at the world outside with a huge smile.
I do love winter and I'm ready for it.
Monday, January 24, 2011
One is not the loneliest number...
My lazy weekend of naught let me sink back into my head.
Not that it's a bad thing. I've been so busy I've only been living on the surface. No time to delve, ponder, kick, or let go.
It's taken me nearly two days to let go enough to be able to begin the inner ramble.
I forget that when I'm on overload, all I hear is static. Too much going on at the same time.
Work worries and fast-paced home life shuts down the creativity in me.
My time is spent mentally shucking the clutter. Once I do, I hear the faint whispers of ideas just barely out of my reach - but there nonetheless.
I become aware that I've been neglecting myself.
That "aha" moment appears before me and I know how to charge into next week.
A little calmer, a little wiser, and ready to take on the world.
Not that it's a bad thing. I've been so busy I've only been living on the surface. No time to delve, ponder, kick, or let go.
It's taken me nearly two days to let go enough to be able to begin the inner ramble.
I forget that when I'm on overload, all I hear is static. Too much going on at the same time.
Work worries and fast-paced home life shuts down the creativity in me.
My time is spent mentally shucking the clutter. Once I do, I hear the faint whispers of ideas just barely out of my reach - but there nonetheless.
I become aware that I've been neglecting myself.
That "aha" moment appears before me and I know how to charge into next week.
A little calmer, a little wiser, and ready to take on the world.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Old School...
I pick up my book and fan through the pages. It's is neither a best seller nor educational, but I like the story just the same.
I tend to gravitate towards mind candy. Nothing too filling - nice and light to help me escape a gruelling day of shuffling papers and dealing with obnoxious co-workers.
We all have our vices. Mine is the written word.
I flip through the tattered pages. Some are even still dog-eared to remind me of the last place I stopped.
Even though my home is littered with pretty bookmarks, I tend to feel the need to mangle my books. I guess it's my way of marking them as mine.
I like the feel of paper in my hands and the sound of the rustling pages being turned as I become more and more engrossed in the story.
I know technology is kicking paper books to the curb. I see it coming as everything is becoming electronic.
If you know the story of "Who Moved My Cheese," I'm like the mouse who balks at change but eventually welcomes it. I need to bitch about it for a while before I'm ready and willing to move on. But I will move on.
I also recognize the fact that in a few short years, I will probably have an e-reader and love it.
But I will always miss the smell of my dusty books pressed into my hands.
I wonder if those new-fangled gadgets can come with an option of "old book" smell?
I tend to gravitate towards mind candy. Nothing too filling - nice and light to help me escape a gruelling day of shuffling papers and dealing with obnoxious co-workers.
We all have our vices. Mine is the written word.
I flip through the tattered pages. Some are even still dog-eared to remind me of the last place I stopped.
Even though my home is littered with pretty bookmarks, I tend to feel the need to mangle my books. I guess it's my way of marking them as mine.
I like the feel of paper in my hands and the sound of the rustling pages being turned as I become more and more engrossed in the story.
I know technology is kicking paper books to the curb. I see it coming as everything is becoming electronic.
If you know the story of "Who Moved My Cheese," I'm like the mouse who balks at change but eventually welcomes it. I need to bitch about it for a while before I'm ready and willing to move on. But I will move on.
I also recognize the fact that in a few short years, I will probably have an e-reader and love it.
But I will always miss the smell of my dusty books pressed into my hands.
I wonder if those new-fangled gadgets can come with an option of "old book" smell?
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Zen and the art of housework...
Up and back.
Up and back.
Up and back.
My arm pushes the vacuum cleaner.
I don't mind cleaning the house so much.
Even when I don't have music piped directly into my soul, I find my mind zones out and I mentally wander.
I review my past week and plan my coming week. Not plan so much but more like consider events coming up.
The room is cleaned without my paying attention to it. My auto-pilot maid has done a good job.
I guess after I've finished cleaning, what I like most is the feeling of accomplishment.
I've prettied something up.
Isn't life about making it more beautiful?
Up and back.
Up and back.
My arm pushes the vacuum cleaner.
I don't mind cleaning the house so much.
Even when I don't have music piped directly into my soul, I find my mind zones out and I mentally wander.
I review my past week and plan my coming week. Not plan so much but more like consider events coming up.
The room is cleaned without my paying attention to it. My auto-pilot maid has done a good job.
I guess after I've finished cleaning, what I like most is the feeling of accomplishment.
I've prettied something up.
Isn't life about making it more beautiful?
Friday, January 7, 2011
You can keep your stupid purple hat...
My feet are too hot. I peel off my socks and head for the cold tile to cool my dogs.
As I step into the bathroom, I glance at my reflection in the mirror.
I see that my face is flushed and my hair has taken on the out-of-control look that would be sexy if I didn't have a thin film of perspiration on my upper lip.
I sadly shake my head as I first wonder, what is wrong with me?
Which then leads me to the answer, oh yeah, it's menopause.
If I'm not over-heating just standing still, I've got a bug up my ass about nothing.
When I'm not hot and cranky, I have hollow legs which can only be satisfied by my strapping on a feedbag of such things as chocolate or anything that is probably not good for me.
I know hormone therapy is not an option for me, so I worry about how long I'm going to be psychotic like this.
Most days I want to flick lit matches a people or sling my hairbrush at things and scream.
My family laughs at me and my cranky pants.
But how long will they laugh because I'm getting tired of myself already.
As I step into the bathroom, I glance at my reflection in the mirror.
I see that my face is flushed and my hair has taken on the out-of-control look that would be sexy if I didn't have a thin film of perspiration on my upper lip.
I sadly shake my head as I first wonder, what is wrong with me?
Which then leads me to the answer, oh yeah, it's menopause.
If I'm not over-heating just standing still, I've got a bug up my ass about nothing.
When I'm not hot and cranky, I have hollow legs which can only be satisfied by my strapping on a feedbag of such things as chocolate or anything that is probably not good for me.
I know hormone therapy is not an option for me, so I worry about how long I'm going to be psychotic like this.
Most days I want to flick lit matches a people or sling my hairbrush at things and scream.
My family laughs at me and my cranky pants.
But how long will they laugh because I'm getting tired of myself already.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Lounge Lizard...
It's that time of year again that it is finally cold enough that my purple couch looks appealing.
Really, who wants to snuggle on a velvet couch in the middle of the summer when it's so hot out you wind up sticking to everything?
Not me.
I drape myself all over its purply goodness and I'm pretty sure that I heard it sigh as if it missed me too.
The radio plays the kind of music that encourages me to kick off my shoes and go into lounging mode.
There's a good possibility that my chores will have to wait until tomorrow.
Really, who wants to snuggle on a velvet couch in the middle of the summer when it's so hot out you wind up sticking to everything?
Not me.
I drape myself all over its purply goodness and I'm pretty sure that I heard it sigh as if it missed me too.
The radio plays the kind of music that encourages me to kick off my shoes and go into lounging mode.
There's a good possibility that my chores will have to wait until tomorrow.
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