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 |  A collection of words... |
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Chey - 8/29 - almost 8 months ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** This groundhog saw my shadow.  Prediction: It will be six more weeks until March 16th. |
My oldest son sometimes leaves me messages on my computer. Sometimes it's a story he thinks I'll be interested in, or the answer to a question I asked him about, sometimes it's a website featuring a game, cd, pants or a shirt... something he wants... like, seeing it will infiltrate my thoughts and I'll have the desire to get whatever it is. I find it kind of adorable. This morning there was a window left open, a google search page in which he had searched "how to make cheesecake using only popcorn and potato chips."  Apparently he wants cheesecake, but what do we have? I especially liked the use of the word "only."  |
I started a blog August 8th about falling down the stairs... and didn't finish it. Actually, I missed the bottom step and landed square on my knees and elbows. Well, not quite square because my left knee grew another kneecap comprised of bruised skin and fluid, and the rest was just scraped slightly. Anyway, that went on for about a week until I wasn't limping. Then my kids gave me a cold and I was coughing a lot. Suddenly I realized I was getting a knot in my rear. Well, that was new, but not so exciting. It kept getting worse... so that everytime I coughed or stepped a certain way it felt like there was a knife jabbing me in the rear... on the right side. After a couple weeks I went to the chiropractor... the adjustments hurt... and nothing was improving. I didn't think to tell him I fell, it seemed unrelated to me.  After 3 weeks I decided to go to my massage therapist friend, the blind man I've written about before in here. (Here I will interject that he's been building his own house for awhile now, by himself. I hadn't seen it yet. Pulling into the driveway and the house being revealed through the trees took my breath away and brought tears to my eyes. He's so amazing.) Anyway, I've known him over 12 years... massage has never hurt like that before. The next day I was a new woman! I felt great! That lasted for 3 days. Then I had to go back a couple days ago, I didn't feel like a new woman the next day, but today I realized I haven't had that pain at all.  He and the chiropractor both think I dislocated something in my low back when I hit the floor like that. Hopefully it's done now. I have an MRI scheduled for next week. I am so... graceful!  During the first visit with the massage therapist he said he'd been having a hard time sleeping. That the full moon bothers him... feeling like "high tide in (his) head." When I saw him a few days ago I asked if he'd been sleeping better. He said he's been waking up every night/morning at 2:30 and sometimes can go back to sleep, sometimes not. THAT freaked me out because I've been waking up every night/morning at 2:30 the same way... this has been going on a couple weeks... all except last night, I slept through the 2:30 "wake up call". Hmmm... now I'm wondering if he did also. Perhaps it's all related to the moon.Yesterday I realized quickly as I left for work that I didn't have any brakes. Scary even when you're only doing 10 mph! I thought I was going out into the intersection in front of a car, so with a couple seconds to decide I chose to use the stop sign to stop. Luckily that worked out and caused no damage to the neighbor's fence and I was able to back up rolling to my own driveway. I realized later if I'd lost the brakes a few miles sooner it would have been when my son and I were taking his girlfriend home the night before - country back roads - the result could have been much different.  Apparently someone was watching over. I normally feel stressed on that drive, but that night I didn't... I was very relaxed... perhaps that's because we weren't alone. It's good to know it wasn't "our time." My son's girlfriend is pregnant, due in December. I'm going to be a grandmother... to a baby girl. Hope everyone is doing well. |
| So, as it turns out - groundhogs love french onion soup. Most especially the cheese, then the croutons, then the soup itself. *shrugs* Who knew? I didn't. I got french onion soup for lunch a few days ago, took a few bites (? sips?) and realized it wasn't "doing it for me." (It's all good though, it was certainly "doing it" for Harry.) I've spoken before about going through phases with what foods I crave and then eating those almost exclusively. It was watermelon a month or so ago. Then it became edamame salad with sunflower seeds (which hasn't phased out yet) - but now there's one somewhat more complex. Salad with shredded zucchini, yellow squash, carrots, and purple cabbage (none of which I will eat individually) in place of the lettuce and topped with raw mushrooms, garbonza beans, kalamata olives, feta cheese, sunflower seeds, and Newman's Own Olive Oil and Vinegar dressing... skipping one ingredient doesn't work. As if life isn't complicated enough, now my cravings have to come with a recipe. My friend, Ben Langhinrichs  , casually encouraged me to try to write a ballade yesterday.  I asked if that was a challenge and he said I could consider it that. I asked if all the "b" lines had to rhyme with each other. He said "yes, 14 of them - is that clucking I hear?" Well, NO... *gulp*. So, here's the result of that: "Invalid Item"  . We had some discussion about "metric substitutions" - the eventuality of that being that I found a poet I wasn't really familiar with that I love! Anne Bradley lived over 300 years ago. Here's an awesome poem of hers found on "her" website. The titles aren't really so much "titles" - at least not so by her. Women were not supposed to pursue writing endeavors back then; therefore, most of her work wasn't published until after she passed:"Before the Birth of One of Her Children" All things within this fading world hath end, Adversity doth still our joys attend; No ties so strong, no friends so dear and sweet, But with death's parting blow are sure to meet. The sentence past is most irrevocable, A common thing, yet oh, inevitable. How soon, my Dear, death may my steps attend, How soon't may be thy lot to lose thy friend, We both are ignorant, yet love bids me These farewell lines to recommend to thee, That when the knot's untied that made us one, I may seem thine, who in effect am none. And if I see not half my days that's due, What nature would, God grant to yours and you; The many faults that well you know I have Let be interred in my oblivious grave; If any worth or virtue were in me, Let that live freshly in thy memory And when thou feel'st no grief, as I no harmes, Yet love thy dead, who long lay in thine arms, And when thy loss shall be repaid with gains Look to my little babes, my dear remains. And if thou love thyself, or loved'st me, These O protect from stepdame's injury. And if chance to thine eyes shall bring this verse, With some sad sighs honor my absent hearse; And kiss this paper for thy dear love's sake, Who with salt tears this last farewell did take. http://www.annebradstreet.com/before_the_birth_of_one_of_her_children.htm Touching and beautiful. *sigh* Hope all is well and thank you for stopping by! |
| Blogging about Chicky prompted me to get some pictures off my phone. Unfortunately, they're never especially clear from the cell... this could have made a good commercial for soup. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| Many of you know I feed groundhogs. Especially 1 special one, Chicky, that I've fed for 5 years. It took awhile, but into the 2nd year she would take food from my hand and I'd sit with her (or she'd sit with me) while she ate. (I have many candid shots of this - and a collage on my office wall.) Well, obviously, groundhogs multiply. She has been momma to Finger, Tatty, Peanut, Midge, and others... partner to Ricky... mom-in-law to Harry (Tatty's love interest)... and grandma to Mickey and at least 2 others I've seen but not yet named. (All of the chipmunks are named Chippy - I just can't tell any of them apart.) Of all of the groundhogs, Chicky is the most trusting. Oftentimes she will run across the lawn like from the movies when 2 loved ones are rushing towards each other with arms wide open. She will climb on my lap for food. She went down to hibernate in July last year (seems to get earlier every year) and I actually thought we might have seen the last of her, but she came back April 1st... with many teats. This year she didn't put on weight fast like other years. She also brought her babies out to us this year. SO tiny and adorable. Then Tatty showed up with her babies that were several times the size of Chicky's. Clearly they weren't getting enough nutrition from their mom, and she was teaching them to forage. I got to see Chicky be a momma this year. When crows were nearby she would huddle her babies underneath her and stare at the crows. Frankly, this brought tears to my eyes, especially with her being old and clearly not as well as she once was. I mentioned her to a Philosophy professor I know and asked "so, do you think it's merely instinct or does she care?" He felt there was an element of caring. At some point about a month ago Chicky sustained a puncture wound in her neck. She seemed to continue to lose vitality. Moving started to seem like a chore. Although, one day I brought her summer corn chowder from Panera and she ate the whole bowl. Even standing up with the styrofoam bowl in her hands and tipping it backwards like some people do with soup. (Yes, I have a picture on my phone.) Anyway, it was difficult to watch her seem to be failing. My co-worker was in tears, this didn't help. She said she wanted to take her home or do something for her, I told her simply that we can't. Chicky has always been wild, and she would certainly fail outside her element. Sitting with her has always been so peaceful... to have that type of "companion trust" with a wild animal has such a spirituality about it. Sitting with her when she is not well is deeply moving in a different way. The last time we saw her was the week before last. She seemed to get a whole bunch of energy and was renovating one of her holes. Last week was very humid, and we only saw Tatty toward the end of the week. This week we've seen them all, except for her. Perhaps it's weird to say, but if we are greeted when we pass on (which I believe we are), then I fully expect to see her there. Perhaps she is a spirit guide? Maybe I'll find out some day.OK, now I freaked out yesterday when I brushed an ant off the side of the tub and saw a black spot there, and 2/3's of the ant squirming on the floor. Damn! I'm sorry! I didn't look for awhile and then of course had to, and he was gone. I went to brush an ant off my arm when I was outside earlier and it crumpled up. Geeeez! I don't kill a bug unless it's something that would sting. So, today I was going through my groundhog food supplies and noticed a partial bag of nacho chips under some crackers that I'd forgotten about. Picked it up to see if any were left and there was a tiny, moldy, dead mouse in the bag! ACKKKKKKKKKK Did he suffocate under the weight of the crackers? Is corn not good for him? Did he fill up on the candy I left in the "mouse dish" under the desk and then come down off that buzz while he was in the bag? Poor little guy!Well, I'll leave you with a happier image ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| 2 blogs in 2 days? I have a blue mid-week. So, MetaphorSquared   blogged in "Invalid Item" about accidentally overhearing teens using raunchy lingo. Not only do boys say things like that to girls, but boys say things like that to other boys also... about the other boy's mom, or sister... or brother... or about the other boy himself. I don't think they've brought in the dads yet, I imagine that's a matter of time. They like to gross each other out and then they laugh. My oldest has been rhetorically involved for 4 years in a steamy affair with the elderly mom of a friend of mine... so passionate this is it didn't lose any steam when she passed away 2 years ago. He claims "she's still warm for me." Twin J has this thing lately where he'll look at me with his best "super sincere" face on and ask "so, how are you doing... overall?" Yesterday he came and sat next to me and asked. I said I was ok. He asked, "really? you seem kind of down... do you have S.A.D.?" (we've had some gray days the past week) I said no. He asked, "you know what that is?" I said "seasonal affective disorder." He grinned like he couldn't believe his mom knew the answer. He laughed and said "yeah." I got my fake cocky voice and said "hey, I went to college." He said "and now what do you have, huh?" I said "uhhh... 3 ungrateful kids?" They're funny... sometimes. Z spent the night at his gf's and this morning I took J, M, and M's gf to my aunt's to "hang out." J was in front with me. We went down a side street near our house and we all glanced to the right at the same time as this older guy was getting out of his car, seemingly for work. He smiled big in our direction. I thought for a second "hmm... that was friendly." Then from the back I hear M deadpan "what a fucking asshole." I always appreciate the "challenge" of a different perspective. Interestingly, M is super polite, kind, and friendly to people (strangers in general... particularly he loves babies, the elderly, and homeless people). He did his first game tournament Sunday at a video store playing Guitar Hero: Aerosmith. First through 3rd had prizes, first place was the just released "bundle pack" which sells for around $100. There were 36 participants, none that he'd ever met before. By the end of the tournament everyone was calling him by his name (instead of number) and cheering him on. He's likeable that way. He ended up winning, going 9 - 0. It was cool to see. I'll be on a bit more this week as I need to do the reviewing for round 5 of "Invalid Item" . Round 6 has started. This month's prompts are:1. immortal eyes 2. drawn together 3. melody at night 4. reclined in longing 5. lonely dancing boy 6. darkness where I roam 7. sand through my fingers Have a beautiful day. |
| I think I've been in some sort of existential flux... or perhaps a reality flux? Words. Whatever. It is what it is regardless of whether I can describe it or not... and regardless of whether I even know what it is I'm pondering describing. I'm a little surprised it's been over a month since I blogged last. I don't begin to know what to write about from the past month... I tend to go internal when there's a lot going on... Let's see... looks like I'm going to be a grandmother - my son still lives at home... his gf thinks her mother will kick her out when she finds out... hmmm... I think the girl is awesome... and my son is so much happier since they've been together... but... I had titanium coils inserted into my fallopian tubes over a year ago? Why? Because I was sure I didn't want another baby. I try not to think about that too much... I don't want to anticipate being responsible for another when it might not happen that way. I really don't know... Doris Day serenades me in my head sometimes with that signature line "whatever will be will beeee...." (thanks Doris, I needed that). Sometimes I counter that with "sure, that's easy for her to say" - but usually she prevails; albeit temporarily. Let's see... my ex called a few weeks ago, randomly, to ask me why I don't call and tell him things about our 18 year old. I asked why he wouldn't call and tell me things he hears about one of the 17 year olds. He said "because they live with you and you are responsible for them, so if you don't know something... tough shit." *shrugs* He's been out of the house for 9 years... no financial or other support whatsoever. He randomly starts calling me names and says "why don't you support the kids for a change?" He feels no compulsion to make sense. He hung up. I called him back, guess I was feeling a taste of "Jerry Springer guest mentality"... and I think I was pretty clear when I simply stated if he calls me like that again there will not only be a restraining order, but also a subpoena for 9 years of back child support. He hung up again. I never bother the guy. 9 years of me struggling to support his kids without him, while he is free to live his own life and do whatever he wants, and he has the audacity to suggest that I should be supporting them... "for a change"? Such a novel concept... perhaps I should consider it. Later that night there was a taxi and cop car in front of the house. Seems the woman downstairs, who I've maintained is a psycho and the landlady says "she seems sweet" whilst she complains that our stairs creak at night when we go up and down them... as 100 year old buildings tend to do... anyway, this "seemingly sweet" woman assaulted a female taxi cab driver... and there was some random guy without a shirt on out there with a half empty 5th of something (I think he's that guy that's called in for every similar scenario across the country. When they're assigning roles before birth he takes the part of the cameo walk on - drunk guy without his shirt on at the scene of an assault. I briefly wonder exactly how many sets of male nipples these police officers shine their flashlights on on any given night.) Anyway, I had mentioned to the landlady how verbally agressive this woman is and she had suggested that perhaps she was doing those things because she felt my kids were making noise on purpose. I had indicated that it didn't matter what her motivation, sane people just don't act that way. *shrugs* Then I wonder if perhaps I'm just crazy. My aunt was admitted to the hospital last week after having some blood tests done. She's my mom's twin. My mom called and said she was feeling a bundle of nerves and asked if I'd go over and find out what was going on. The nursing staff sucks is what's going on. You ring the bell to pee and no one responds. Finally another nurse responds and helps her to the bathroom... then "her" nurse comes in and gives my aunt hell for being out of bed. Like, obnoxiously condescending... I said "she did not get in there on her own, another nurse took her there." She essentially was saying, loudly and rudely, that my aunt's blood pressure goes down when she stands up and that the ambulance lost her pulse on the way there. Well, she's the only one who knew that apparently... fine time and method of communicating that. The incompetence continued to be astounding. Then it was surpassed when I found out that the doctor didn't send the ambulance to her home to pick her up... the doctor called the ambulance when she was at her appointment. The doctor's office is across the street from the hospital emergency room. Are they fucking kidding? They could literally have wheeled her over in a wheelchair with no fanfare in less than a minute. Now, how would the ambulance have lost her pulse in a matter of seconds? Anyway, she had to have a "stat" ekg, the nurse said "I don't know how to read these, but if it's normal I can tell you that." (It was.) Her blood tests showed she was bleeding internally and they ordered a transfusion and a scope... and continued to take blood after nothing had changed (no meds, no treatment, no intake, etc) - I asked questions, no one knew anything. They ended up making her wait to intake anything for over 24 hours when they finally got around to doing the scope. They said it looked like she might have had an ulcer that bled with the ibuprofen she was taking for her sprained ankle (which might have been broken, they couldn't say for sure)... however, she sprained her ankle because she wasn't feeling good before. Oh, and when I asked the nurse to give my aunt some ice for ankle for the pain... she couldn't because the doctor hadn't ordered it. I get frustrated going in there. So, my aunt is home now. I did manage to find out some info about energy assistance to help with her light bill since she's been on oxygen the past couple months. It's incredible how much it costs to run those. I don't know how people do it. I could go on with that, but then I'd just start another tangent for no reason... griping about it isn't going to solve anything. Her town doesn't have a food bank but I found one I could go to for her and did that last night. I had forgotten what it is like to get assistance... it's been awhile... and, strangely enough I was financially way better off 10 years ago before I got this job and had help, but I digress. It wasn't the big hairy man in the cut off sweatpants and the cowboy hat that came up to me and said "I can't believe I didn't win" that bothered me (I was to later find out that he was referring to some singing contest *shrugs*) what bothered me there was amidst the signs that tell you local assistance numbers, and tell you that they are not responsible should you choose to ingest the food they give you and you get sick... a big poster that said what to do if you suspect someone you know has overdosed. The presumption being that people who might need help with food would likely encounter others trying to overdose? I find that obnoxious. What they should have up is a big poster that tells you what signs to look for with food poisoning, which they sorta insinuated you would be opening yourself to the possibilities of should you eat that stuff they give you. Again, I digress. I saw on the news last night that the hostage crisis at the prison that started at 2:30 yesterday ended at 10 last night without loss of life. Major relief. Two very good friends of mine are guards there... both of whom I'd talked with briefly over the weekend. All I know right now is they were both involved in the response. GAH, I hate violence. Some good news... I hooked up with my "bff" from high school and we might get to see each other this summer. On the heels of that success I looked up an early mentor of mine, and actually found him and we talked on the phone last week (it had been... 11 years). He was the first person to ever call me "brilliant" (*thinks* perhaps he's the only one) and he encouraged me to go to college... essentially affecting some significant positive things in my life... and I wanted him to know that. He's disabled now. He was a medic in the marines in Vietnam, shot 3 times in his year of service. He worked as a mental health nurse and was visiting a client in jail who hit him over the head with a chair... the testing he had revealed he'd had a stroke from the impact and scar tissue around the bullet wound in his neck. He's buddhist and advocated for peace. I would not say he is an activist, as he doesn't get that extremely involved. He sort of quietly advocated peace. (Because of this, he has received death threats. From? Other veterans. *sad sigh*) Anyway, it was awesome to talk with him again. It almost made me feel 10 years younger, and almost with that same semi-naive confidence I used to have... back in the days when it felt like I had more control over stuff in my life than I sometimes feel now. He asked me to call him again this week... perhaps that would be a good boost tomorrow. I did manage to do a top to bottom office cleaning and organization... after years of my ocd packrat tendencies... that much is awesome. If anyone is reading this... thank you for your time and hope you are well! |
| Reminds me of a story I recently found again... Excerpt from "Skiing an unbroken path" by Patricia D'Angelo From the Maine Times 1995 First I swept. Then wiped down the floors with a wet cloth. Then cleared out bags bursting with recyclables. From under the sink I pulled stray garbage and tossed spent batteries. I dragged a chair from the table and removed every unused container from the kitchen shelves. I washed blankets and sheets and vacuumed cat hair from the rug. By the time darkness came, I'd ventured into almost every corner I'd lacked the courage or resolve to tackle in the past year. I threw out old telephone and electric bills. Old seeds. Unflattering clothes. Took photos of long-ago friends down from my walls. The things I could not throw away I burned, or hurled into the ocean. Creative littering I called it. Sea glass for the next generation. Beloved Birkenstocks became a future foothold for barnacles as I tossed them off the pier. I strung yarn on tree branches to brighten birds' nests. Across the sunlit snow I scattered a jar of Badlands dirt collected 10 years ago until it looked like nutmeg on yogurt. I cut old shirts into rags, smashed ill-made pottery into mosaic pieces for the garden path, and placed battered baskets at the foot of favorite trees as an offering for what they might harbor someday. In this first month of the new year, with clutter gone and only the useful, necessary or precious remaining, I am ready for those open spaces to be filled again. Empty or full, the difference lessens. Letting go precedes letting in. That evening, with new snow fallen over the ashes of burned dolls, potsherds and Western dust, I skied an unbroken path to the ocean. I was alone on the trail. My skis slid past each other, spilling one long secret after another in a methodical murmur. When I circled the loop and rejoined my freshly laid tracks I was surprised at the comfort their presence gave me, beckoning me back up the hill through the cold ticking forest. Some days even the mark of my own passing feels like such a blessing. My ski poles dragged slightly between each landing, creating a trail reminiscent of a muskrat's. The sky had risen since the storm front passed, so only a thin matting of clouds obscured the nearly full wolf moon. Snow-draped spruce, blueberry barrens and the smoky ocean all glowed with diffuse light like a photographic negative. Lines of distinction smudged between the unraveling surf and the ponderous mist above it, between the smooth ground and fallen branches, and between the broad definition of distance and the intricate details at my fingers' reach. That day was the first anniversary of an old friend's death. I felt him somewhere above me, behind me, and I talked to him a little as a skied. I did not answer myself when I asked whether I was crazy or silly. When loved ones die too soon, how can we know it is not them calling from the other side? The sounds may be muffled or displaced; it's their voice just the same, in the barks of unseen dogs wanting to be let in, or the chatter of eiders diving for urchins, or the quiet song a porcupine sings as it moves toward an apple at the tip of an orchard's bough. I stood still for a long portion of that silver hour, listening for a clue of my friend's presence as much as the silence seemed to listen for my own. I moved my warm tongue inside the chilled muscles of my cheeks and managed a husky whistle that mimicked the paces notes of a saw-whet owl until I lost the air in my lungs. Maybe he'll respond, I thought. I tried the screech owl's call until I gargled saliva, then finally the whooping slogan of a barred owl that sounded so much like a monkey that I laughed out loud. His presence, like all I have lost and gained this past year, was neither close nor far. The silence held my pebbled thoughts until they dissolved into inconsequence... I spoke at my father's memorial service last Sunday. The lady leading the service had everyone place one of those red poppies with the little slip of paper attached to them on his urn. I have not seen those poppies in years, probably since I was a kid. I didn't look at the tag, and then couldn't remember what organization used to pass those out when someone would donate. That would also have told me where the lady doing the service was from, still I didn't notice. This past Saturday I had to go to the grocery store late at night. I took the cart up and down 5 or 6 aisles. When I'd picked up my last item and started pushing the cart again, the wheel stuck. I pulled it back and pushed it forward a few times hoping to dislodge whatever I'd gotten stuck on, to no avail. I looked down at my feet and there was a little slip of paper. I picked it up. On one side it said "BUDDY" POPPY - "Wear it proudly" and the other side "Proceeds to the Veterans of Foreign Wars for Veterans Assistance Programs" ~ coincidence? I wonder what those odds would be. I inspected the cart further and discovered there was a piece of plastic wrapped around the wheel which had not hindered my progress through the store to that point... and once the slip of paper was in my pocket, it didn't hinder my progress after that either. My father was not present in my life to watch over me growing up, but I feel he's watching over me now. |
| It's been quite a week. Work has been hectic, but a great hectic... seems everyone has been in a good mood. (knock on wood) I'm about 3/4 through reviewing for the April round of "Invalid Item" .The girl dog has been in heat, and pestering the boy dog that was fixed years ago. He's decidedly not interested in mating, but will give her a little attention. (Trust me, you don't want details  ) It is kind of amusing to watch her walk underneath him to position herself while he's just standing there. He has this look of "exasperated consternation." He was standing next to me the other day and she walked by, rubbed her butt against him, positioned herself, then turned her head to move her tail out of the way with her teeth. I can't help but wonder if anyone thought of me similar to what I think of this dog when I was in my mid to late 30s. lol My son advised me today that he had a message from his girlfriend's mother that she wanted me to call her. Man, I hate that stuff... still and I'm 43. He got irritated by my questions "what does she want?" "Well, what did your girlfriend think when you told her that?" "What am I going to say if she asks me (whatever)?" Well, it turned out pretty well... I think. She was nice. She wanted me to know that my son wasn't the reason her daughter was grounded. I had the opportunity to ask her if I could share with her my experience of her daughter. Of course she said yes. So, I was able to tell her what a great girl she is (she's sweet, easy-going, quiet, respectful, doesn't smoke, drink or do drugs, conducts herself like a lady, etc.) and I miss having her around also... and that I understand her concerns and she's doing a good job with her. I had the opportunity to meet someone at work today that I've talked to several times on the phone. We were working on an issue and we thought it would be easier to do it in person. It was nice. When he left I went to shake his hand and he kissed my hand and thanked me. I'm enough of an old-fashioned girl that stuff like that makes me feel warm & fuzzy inside... perhaps not as much as it would have in my mid-30s. I found out that my step-mother decided to release my father's ashes to me. She wants me to pick him up and arrange the service. My aunt arranged with the cemetary for my friend to bury my father. I may wait until his stone arrives (hopefully soon). I called my mom and mentioned a minister friend we have. She said he's often busy, and suggested I didn't need to pay for a minister. I wondered aloud if I should do his service myself. She said "yes" without hesitation. She offered a few suggestions, and support, interlaced with humor and told me more or less to not make a big deal out of it and just breeze through it keeping in mind that he wouldn't be there to criticize. I inquired "or blame me for his death?" She said "nope, he can't do that either." I told her I was going to seek Candlemaker 's counsel. Bob didn't hesitate either. He said his family did his father's service, but conceded that, well... two of them were ministers. So, I called my father's sister and told her I would probably just speak myself, unless someone else had something they wanted to say or someone wanted to get a minister. She said "nope, you'll do fine honey." I told her I was assuming there wouldn't be 100 people, and I'm very soft-spoken, so if there was a lot she'd have to read the words for me. LOL (Her voice is... ummm... "legendary.") I will probably read the poem I wrote shortly after my father passed. I was also doing some "stream of conscious" stuff in an email to Bob earlier which I'll build around or pare down. I feel the randomness of my memories of him will work in this situation. I will likely put it forth here before I do it... and will probably have to rehearse it with my mother like she had me do that poem. Well, that's all for today. Hope everyone is well. |
| Happy May Day everyone. When I was a kid, and in later years when my kids were little, we had the tradition of making May Day baskets to "hang" on our relatives. When I was little my aunt made them from a shoe box and crepe paper and filled them with penny candy (which actually cost a penny at the time). It was always done in secret and then put on the doorstep of someone. We'd ring the bell or knock on the door and run. Whoever received the basket had to catch us and kiss us on the cheek. I first remember hanging a basket on my step father when I was about 5, before he married my mother. He opened the door and stepped down on the stair right into the basket. I remember thinking he was a dork and hoped she wouldn't marry him. lol Today is the twins' 17th birthday. J walked past me shortly after midnight and casually said "uhh, mom... what day is it?" I had an email from Classmates.com telling me I had a mail from DeniseC. I joined Classmates over 10 years ago just because I was looking for her. I've looked for her many times and never found her. She and I were best friends in high school and remained close for 10 years or so after that. She got married and moved away and we lost touch. It's probably been 15 years since I've talked with her. That email was a shocker. Of course, to read an email you have to sign up for a membership... I have a 7 day trial and if I don't cancel it before that they're charging my card $39 for a year membership. I haven't been writing much, but I started playing with images a couple weeks ago after I realized I had a program to do it with. If anyone is interested, I have images here.
Have to run... things just got busy Hope everyone is doing well. |
| A "fashion mullet" is a hair style more prevalent with "Scene Kids"... primarily girls. It was described by my son's gf as you sort of let straight hair grow out kind of long, have bangs, and then get it longer in the back, usually with extensions. A few reasons that won't work for my son... he's a boy, he has curly hair, and he's not "Scene." Clearly, it was a joke when he said it, but I'm too "not with it" to realize it was. I know that Scene is something like emo/punk... but with its own flavor that is complicated to describe. So, I asked again tonight... "what is Scene?" M feigns frustration and confusion again. "I can't explain it." I asked what he'd be doing if he were that. He said he'd be hanging out at the bowling alley with 15 friends not doing anything, just hanging out. He'd go to Barnes & Noble and read magazines and then sit in the cafe and drink ice water. He'd buy too small clothes at Hot Topic... like if he were a size Large, he'd buy a youth medium in shirts and pants... and he'd wear like a leather snap bracelet from there that might say "Panic at the Disco." He'd wear Vans shoes from Pac Sun, but they'd have to be too big. Then he laughed and said "just kidding on that part." I asked if the shoes would have to bee too small also... he said "no, don't you think they're uncomfortable enough already?" He added he would also roam around WalMart with a group of kids for hours with no money, no one would buy anything, but someone might steal a Vitamin Water occasionally. They wouldn't make a regular habit of it because they don't want to get in trouble, but they do really love Vitamin Water. They don't usually have any money. They travel in large groups.Wikipedia had this to say: "Scene is a teen fashion style. Usually consisting of style 80's haircuts (choppy/shaggy and/or colored unnaturally), eyeliner (for guys too), skinny jeans, and tight T-Shirts, large sunglasses, Converse/VANS shoes, white belts. T-Shirts usually are band tees, children's cartoons, superheroes, vintage pop culture, or random imagery (fruit, scissors, cobwebbs, etc...). Often these clothes are bought at stores like Hot Topic, but often real vintage clothes are used." That's all I've been able to ascertain so far. |
| My son M has decided that he'd like to forego his thrasher/emo hairstyle in favor of a "fashion mullet." He explained it's sort of like a stereotypical yesteryear lady gym teacher style... only... ummm... "fashionable." He was unable to describe it further, or find a picture, but assured me if I saw it I'd realize the difference. "It's... like a mullet... only cool." Of course, coming from a kid who did an errand with me today while he was dressed in red pajama bottoms with black print, a tourquoise band shirt with long white sleeves underneath, and a khaki sleeveless band sweatshirt with small sign language gestures all over the front, and the hood up... I'm not sure if he really knows what looks good. I have the boys' taxes done... now to get near the post office to mail them. I discovered an image program on my computer I didn't know I had... and I've been playing with images and adding text to them. Wheeee! I hope it's not one of those programs that will have a "your trial has expired" message come up just about when I get comfortable using it. I had the privilege last night of reading a wonderful (so true! so funny!) little monologue on women approaching middle-age (still merely approaching) written by the fabulous Kaya. This is truly a piece of writing anyone can identify with... even if it's only because you know a woman our age.
Anyone remember the Dr. Demento radio show? Kip Addotta had a song called Wet Dreams. I was trying to think of this a few months ago to explain it to a friend, but couldn't find it. Then, randomly, my co-worker started saying some of the lyrics yesterday. Hey! What's that song? http://youtube.com/watch?v=Iwey31AvAs0 Hope everyone is having a great day |
| My son J has been greeting me lately by coming up to me, putting his hand on my shoulder, looking in my eyes, and saying with all the sensitivity he can muster, "So, how are you doing... overall?" Today was a good day. My friend Eagle~The Cowboy's Wife 's book came in the mail today! I was happy to receive it and have a piece of something that she created in my hands. We awarded "Invalid Item" today. I was very pleased that amongst the awards we had two fairly new (to WDC anyway) authors with unique style and talent. If anyone would like to read the awarded entries, here's the list: ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** "Invalid Item" AwardsROUND 2 ~ MARCH 2008 1st place ~ "Invalid Item" by jessamine2nd place ~ "Very Early in the History of Sexuality" [18+] by girlwhowearsadirtyshirt 3rd place ~ "Lake House" [18+] by Brooklyn  This afternoon I discovered I'd given out my 500th review without realizing it. I went to my feedback sent list and discovered it was sent to Bob! How delightful! It was for a short poem of his "Invalid Item" , which I'd seen a few times before when I'd scanned his port just to feel his words, but had neglected to actually review until very recently. I think it was written in 2004. Yes, I've been somewhat remiss. I cleaned my mailbox with no regard this afternoon. THAT felt good! Sorted everything into largest items first and then just deleted until I had to go do something else. I have 30% free! It's been ages since I've seen that. Our Inspirations contest has brought Bob & me in touch with some very talented and gracious members of the WDC community. alfred booth, wanbli ska is an exceptional poet and beautiful soul. It was a surprise and honor to read his blog today. "Invalid Entry" With Bob's light-hearted assertion that he is one example that crying over poetry is manly, and Alfred's seconding of that, I am not ashamed to say that Alfred's poem brought tears to my eyes. I had an email a few days ago from my confidant... a soul guardian and keeper of my sanity. While it may be a forever job, luckily it's not a full-time one. We met 12 years ago when we worked co-facilitating men's groups. Immediately I started telling him every dark secret I ever had, like I was catching up on 30 years... and not once did he blink about all of that... and, well... he just always made everything alright... he made me know I was alright. He was with me when so many terrible things happened... and somehow, I knew he always had been. That may sound cliche... it isn't. He was the first soul companion I recognized. He could listen to me through my tears "confess all my sins" and weaknesses and tell me I was a "bliss queen." We talked about everything... we laughed... he ate the "I'm too fussy food" off my plate, we ordered mocha lattes and danced while we waited in line. Anyway, we worked together 2 1/2 years... and since only see each other once or twice a year. In those moments, it's like taking a break from "daily reality." So, I was thinking of him, with his e-mail... and participating in the Stretch contest... and struggling with the Villanelle... I wrote one for him. "Invalid Item" I also uploaded a pic of him from his last visit in November ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** I call this "Ou est mon chapeau?" Now, off to do the boys' taxes!  |
So, I go through "phases" with eating sometimes. Like, it's the easiest thing to do, or I crave it the most or something. Junior high it was peanut butter and strawberry jelly. In my teens, frozen fries cooked with seasoning salt on them. Early 20s pepperoni & mushroom pizza. Mid 20s strawberry Pop Tarts. Each of these lasted a year or more. In my mid 30s I had an "egg salad with mozzarella cheese and croutons on top for breakfast" phase. More recently there's been fresh tomatoes, vinegar... an unusual year of craving fresh mozzarella balls, with kalamata olives and garlic toast? I seem to be in an alternating phase currently... chicken salad, corn chowder, mozarella cheese sticks, and peanut M & Ms. The special dynamic with the M & Ms is I've been years without eating them. I prefer dark chocolate to milk... always have... but discovered the new dark chocolate M & M peanuts aren't as good as the original. I don't know what's up with that. Some kind of special balance between the milk chocolate and the peanut that's lost with the richness of the dark I suppose. Anyway, not sure what that means my body is craving... fat perhaps? In retrospect, mozarella with three different craving phases is odd... I mean... it doesn't even have much flavor.  All of that brought to your courtesy of my realization that after having not eaten all day, and not being able to think of anything to eat, I resorted to opening a bag of peanut M & Ms at 6:00. Bob and I awarded "Invalid Item" yesterday. If anyone is interested in reading some great poems, here's the list of awards:1ST PLACE ~ (tie) "Invalid Item" by 𝔹𝕝𝕦𝕖𝕪𝕖𝕫  "Invalid Item" by alfred booth, wanbli ska 2ND PLACE ~ (tie) "The Dark Side Of The Moon" [ASR] by T.L.Finch  "Invalid Item" by PaulZ ~ Je Suis Le Reve ~ 3RD PLACE ~ (tie) "Invalid Item" by flex"Invalid Item" by Michelle Jane Honorable Mentions: (listed in order entries were submitted) "Invalid Item" by emmyloo"Invalid Item" by Dave "DARKEST NIGHT: a sonnet--award winner" [ASR] by Dr M C Gupta  I had a lovely surprise this morning from my talented and beautiful friend Kaya ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** I have read the six entries for "Invalid Item" . This will be awarded soon also. I still have to do income taxes for my three boys. *sigh* One of them can't find his W2  Hope everyone is having a great weekend! |
| Hello to anyone reading this It's been another busy week at work. My on site endeavors were squashed earlier in the week when I lost the internet at home for a few days. I'm still praising Frank at Verizon... I'm not sure what he did, but I got an automated call from Verizon this morning stating my service is now ready to use. Frank had already "been there and done that" a few days ago. I've finished reviewing the prompt poetry contest, "Invalid Item" for March. Our reviews are public. As soon as I can communicate with my co-host, Candlemaker , it will be awarded. We love this contest, the entries and the experience is wonderful. The April round is open, this month's prompts are:1. ancient wisdom 2. shadowed room 3. lifting veils 4. disappearing like a dream 5. heartless winds of change 6. jaded need 7. radiant glow Next I'll be doing reviews for the "Invalid Item" erotica contest. It would be nice to have this done this weekend also. We might put this contest on hold for a month afterwards; there doesn't seem to be a lot of participation in erotica contests these days.Twin J bought a new, big tv today. He'd been saving his money from work for a couple months to do so. Responsible, and as his mom I still think, "Cute!" Hope everyone is well! Have a great weekend! *Edited to add: Please check out Bob's thoughts on reviewing, for the contest and otherwise, he loves attention. "Invalid Entry" |
| Had problems with my internet going out a couple days ago. I spoke to Frank at Verizon. I had a good vibe when I was able to get a man on the phone. Although, Frank was not very encouraging... it seemed hopeless... he said he'd try to get it taken care of soon and that he'd call me yesterday. He didn't call me yesterday... or today. BUT, tonight I realized... I had internet! Way to go, Frank! I had this lovely sig gifted to me by c.r.stone who runs the "BITS AND PIECES" [13+] ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** They have a lot of awesome sigs there, and they are constantly updating their inventory. I was surpised to receive a merit badge for being ranked #42 reviewer for the month of March. I've never received one of those before. My aunt was released from the hospital Monday but with oxygen. Hope everyone is doing well! |
| My mom's twin sister, the one I spoke of talking with a week or two ago, has been in the hospital a few days. She went in with bronchitis, compounded by emphysema and COPD. I asked my son what her numbers were, he couldn't remember if it was 60 or 80. Big difference! 60 would see her in ICU with respiratory failure. It was 80... she's gotten back up to low 90s, but she's been on oxygen and when she coughs it goes back to the 80s. They might let her go home tomorrow, hopefully without oxygen. I started to write a poem for her today, but it will take awhile... they often do when it's someone I'm close to. "We're tough knocks, rocky roads (not ice cream!)" My aunt was motivated to confide. They'd raised me with security to dream And sense of home that grounds me deep inside. Hard-telling how much of that will remain in a finished poem. It might stay but won't be the first stanza... as I haven't said who "they" are. So, I shelved that for now and wrote a poem for "COLORING THE WORLD CONTEST TEMP. CLOSED " [E]...
I've started the reviewing for "Invalid Item" . My friend and contest co-host Candlemaker has been under the weather, but starting to feel better and looking foward to reviewing the contest also.I wandered over to my friend The Cowboy 's blog ("Invalid Item" ) and discovered he might have a dog... or a dog might have him... not sure which. Perhaps like this, only black: ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Cowboy, I hope he doesn't lick your teddy bears and poop on your jeans like mine does here. By the way, Cowboy, we're still waiting on more chapters of your book! His new writing is, I feel, his best ever (and that says a lot!). It starts with:
When I think of my aunt being in the hospital today, April 6th, I think of her father, my grandfather, who passed April 6, 1966... and of her husband who passed April 8, 2006. My grandfather was unexpected... my uncle had been sick for some time. My grandparents had 8 children, 4 boys and 4 girls. Neither of them ever drove, and my grandmother never worked outside the home. To say they lived modestly with 8 children in a one bedroom cottage with no running water would be an understatement. (My aunts and uncles have had a tendency toward over-compensating for their own upbringing with their kids. Good news for me as an only child living with 3 of the sisters and the husband of one.) Anyway, my grandpa used to work in the woods with his father until his father was killed by a falling tree. The company he worked for bought the family a funeral plot and paid for the burial. That was the extent of compensation in the 40s, and I believe even that was deemed a gesture of kindness rather than a requirement. My grandpa went to work for a local lumber mill (walking distance to where he lived). One day he was walking through the yard to go home for lunch and a truck dumped a load of logs on him. The compensation offered in 1966 for my grandmother was $40 per week for the rest of her life... she passed April of 2000. But, I get sidetracked... I never knew my grandfather. I've been to a psychic many times, mostly between 1996 and 1999. On one visit she kept insisting she could smell cigar smoke. I told her I didn't know anyone who smoked a cigar. She'd go on to something else, but kept coming back to it. Finally it dawned on me to ask her what else she saw of the person. She said he was an average-built man in his 50s or so. I asked if it could be a pipe? She laughed and said yes. I asked her what else she saw. She said "I just see him... surrounded by wood?" I felt dumb... and dumb-founded... "oh, that's my grandfather... but I never knew him?" She said "he still knows you"... I asked what he wanted and she said just to tell me he was there. The day my grandmother passed in 2000, I had heard she'd taken a turn for the better. I was at the sink doing dishes when I felt my grandfather... I was overcome with a sense of peace and love... and "remembered destiny"... I can't really describe it... I knew he came for her. I prayed... not that he would leave without her, but that my family would know that feeling. I got the call a short while later. To close this on a different note... what else... I was holding the collar of the small dog today when one of the boy's gf's left and the dog wiggled her butt around and bumped my right leg, not very hard, but it hurt... and now I have a bruise on my shin. I've had this problem since I had the twins. I remember taking my oldest in the shopping cart and his light little foot taps on my legs would leave bruises. The vascular surgeon said "you just have painful veins, and will have to learn to live with it." OK, then.Twin J walked past me today and said "my room is as hollow as my heart." Whoa! Hold it right there! I wrote it down... "let's start a poem!" My room, it is as empty as my heart...With curtains drawn and keeping out the light... A sparse decor that keeps me set apart...As resounding words echo through the night..." He's been walking around the house reading it to anyone that will listen. He said "with 10 syllables we can make a sonnet, right?" Yup... so, that's his project. Now he's got his mind on coming up with poetic expression. Hope everyone had a great weekend and will have an awesome week ahead! |
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