The power went out in My World & we were left with candles, one Coleman flashlight & a box of crystals. Thought I'd share the end results...the flashlight embedded with crystals & the ceiling... wish the rainbow effect showed up in pics, it was beautiful. The crystals lit the whole room up with irredescent colors.
ps-i love roasting marshmellows over candlelight. yumyum!
Friday, September 29, 2006
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
When I entered school, we all all stood up and said the Allegiance to the Flag.
Growing up in the Sunshine State, multi-culturism & cultural diversity existed before these catch phrases really caught on.
We All Stood. Black, white, latino, christian, pagan, jewish...we all stood.
At the beginning of school, we were given the purple words on a ditto sheet & told to memorize them.
It was like the first taste of homework. I took the ditto home & had Momma help me understand the big words.
Propaganda? Politics in the classroom?
In my World, it was like a prayer.
At the end, I muttered 'Amen.'
Vietnam was still going on, the TV static was filled with it. So was the neighborhood and I scantily listened.
There was a house around the corner, we called it 'The Flag House.' This guy had every cubic inch saturated with stars and stripes. He had 100's of flags. He was a Vietnam Vet & we were still fighting.
Neighbors made fun of him, TV reporters would stand on the street illuminating his house in the darkness and festering around it, like flies on a carcass, by day.
People didn't like it, this flag house, but I did.
It was confusing to me...why would the city, the reporters, the neighbors have issue with this house?
5 year olds do not have years of wisdom & education under their belt, but...
In My World, 'republic' meant that us people, us Americans, us individuals had a say in Our World. In My World, 'indivisible' meant individuals together...like trees in the outskirts of our yard. All alone but all together. In My World, 'liberty & justice for all' meant freedom.
Wasn't he one individual in our Republic? Didn't he have a say? Weren't we really indivisible...each of us little trees in the forrest of America? Couldn't we let him alone? As sure as Molly had cats & Mrs. B had roses, this guy should have his flags...in my mind.
In My World, of course, it was not an eyesore...I loved the primary colors, the stars, stripes, the banners & flags. In My World, it was pretty and city zoning was something I didn't know about.
I was proud to have been one that got to see 'The Flag House' first hand. I felt priviledged & blessed. At school, the other kids just talked about it.
In My World, Mrs. Stafford was free to let her hair go blue & Miss Vicki was free to go bra-less, Mrs. M was free to paint her house orange & dye her hair blonde, Mr. Plumber was free to have a shower curtain with naked people on it in his work van, the lake boys were free to paint flowers and peace signs all over their VW and this guy should be free to have his flags.
Four years later, I was in 3rd grade, and we had a boy who refused to say the pledge & refused to stand. He said his Daddy told him he didn't have to. It was 1976 & Vietnam was over. The teacher asked him to just be quiet, if he wasn't going to participate.
I thought 'You are so lucky to be in America & you don't even know it. You could have a basket on your head, a bony bloated baby strapped to your back, callousses on your feet, with rocky unhospitable ground to cover, be nearly naked with flies on your eyeballs because its the only water around...'
I realized at the moment, thinking about him & all the National Geographics I'd seen... and my own petty, little experiences & mental connections, that I was not proud to be an American, I was relieved.
And so I just kept on saying 'Amen' after the Allegiance.
Even though I'd been told it wasn't a prayer, I just knew better.
Sunday, September 24, 2006
Today we played Hookie...from the internet, the retail world, bookeeping & landscaping, busted pipes & barking dogs, from church, from the grocery store, the gas station, the bank, the post office, the telephone, the ghetto ... and some.
We found a beauty salon named 'Curl Up & Dye,' The Road-Kill Cafe,' wet misty mountains, long open roads, hawks as big as my torso, talking rocks that didn't say a word, 5 wild dogs that escorted us through the emerging pumpkin fields , 2 butterflies that I think were trying to show me the electric slide ... and some peace.
Saturday, September 23, 2006
Please click here to view letters written by an American soldier serving currently in Iraq This link is borrowed from a fellow blogger & should not be accessed if you are not comfortable with profanity, war, politics or reality.
Friday, September 22, 2006
'Every Blue Moon' ... meaning once in a while, you have got to try something new. Or at least new to you, not everything & not all the time. But some things you just got to try, at least once.
Chocolate pudding or cheesecake, baseball or football, painting or singing, horticulture or the sub-culture, break-through medications or those tried & true, but new to you...whatever it is and for what-ever reason, it compels you...
you may not like it & may never do it again.
you may love it & may not be able to ever do it again.
you may hate it and have to do it over & over again.
But there are some things in life you just have got to try...at least once.
This whole idea, as simple as it is, has made Nike a fortune...along with a number of pharmaceutical companies.
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Every blue moon, I play poker. Just for fun. I learned my first poker game, 7 card stud, in third grade. Although, I just play for fun, usually money is involved....pennies, nickels & dimes and of course, the occasional quarter. It's not about the money, it's more like score keeping...measured with loose change instead of a paper & pen, as is the case in say, gin rummy.
In My World, I usually win...even if it simply means that I have only traded my pennies up for dimes or loose change for human connection across the table. I don't always show a net profit monetarily, but usually I, do & almost always I feel like I won, in one way or another.
A lot of folks say it is the 'luck of the draw.'
I say it's Kenny Rogers.
You know him, he sings the song that says 'You got to know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em, know when to walk away, know when to run. You never count your money, when you're sittin' at the table. They'll be time 'nough for countin' when the dealin's done.'
I think he's right.
I don't bluff. A lot of folks do & almost all of them assume that I do, too. But, I don't bluff. If my hand is weak & yours looks strong, I fold. If mine looks strong & yours does, too, then I take a gamble. If my hand seems strong & yours looks weak, I don't gouge the pot...meaning, I don't up my bets. My bets are slow & steady...strong hand or not.
My Mother always said to me ....'A smart girl knows when to play dumb.'
And at times, I have taken heed to the words.
At the poker table, I don't have to. More often than not, the other players do that for me. They assume that I bluff.
Why? Because they do.
Sometimes life is like a good old fashioned poker game.
It's filled with wagers and risks, bluffs and raises, ante ups and folds.
We never know what the next card may hold for us or how we will play it
Nor can we predict the next day & how we will handle that days change.
Like the loose change in my pocket, life is very real and should be well spent.
Well spent ... on the things that gives us nourishment, bettering our worlds, not to be gambled completely away.
Winning, sometimes, in My World just means breaking even, even if not in a monetary sense. Sometimes its simply trading out those pennies, nickels & dimes for a few hours of company & laughter.
Monday, September 18, 2006
Meet My World & Some of the Cast of Characters Within it:
They have been known as...Patient & Artistic, Defiant & Independent, Sweet & Thoughtful, Stubborn & Wise, Pure & Simple, Determined & Experimental, and in the background overseeing all of us ... Attentive & Unconditional Love.
Singleton, Paiger, Kimbies, Big Dad'O, ChantyBoy & CurtyBoy
with Momma in the background.
Holding On ~ 1971
1971, as is now, this clan is a tight knit group. We are a larger family now, scattered across the southeast, but with hearts, souls & insights tethered close to home...you know, where the heart is...with one another.
Sunday, September 17, 2006
Ok, so this evening, after spending a day galavanting around town, checking out the art show, the local cemetary & such, I ventured to our local clothing store.
Walking in the door, I was greeted by an autistic child whose mother was checking out. He seemed to be having a good day. His arms and legs were loosely strapped into his oversized (non-tippable) wheel chair. He had a brace around his head, a protective barrior, protecting that precious smile on his face, from the occassional bouts of head bashing that invariably is gonna happen. He was jumping in his seat. He was crying out with squeals of joy. He was clapping his hands up & down. He was having a good ole' time as the clerk spoke louder than usual to communicate the total amount due to his dear momma.
I smiled at him & his moments of joy. He paid me no mind.
Behind him were 3 women, 3 adult women, 3 AARP women. 3 women old enough to know better. 3 women on their tippy-toes. 3 women with scrowls across their brow. 3 women with their mouths wide open.
Communication is 99% interpretation & almost immediately, I was mad at what these 3 women were communicating in My World.
But, after a few steps & a few more breaths, I realized that I was misunderstanding them.
They had simply never been blessed with the simple things in life, the joy that simple things bring, they had no idea how rewarding a trip to a retail shop, 5 minutes of the warm sunshine or a ride in the car could be. They had lived a lifetime being deprived & denied that priviledge. They weren't evil, uncaring, incompassionate people. I had totally misunderstood them, as they had misunderstood that young boy. It was all in the interpretation.
So this little experience, coupled with a few other more personal ones, has got me going :)
If you read the following sentences, placing emphasis on the words in caps...
'OH, you are so beautiful' can seem sarcastic, stunned or shocked
'oh, YOU are so beautiful' can imply others are not so beautiful
'oh, you ARE so beautiful' can imply that you are insecure
'oh, you are SO beautiful' can imply that you are so vain
'oh, you are so BEAUTIFUL' can imply that you are really ugly
...However, ALL of these can mean something very simple & pure, one thing only...and that is simply that you are beautiful.
Communication is 99% interpretation.
'Wishing Well,' 1994-2006, Paiger
'Sometimes it feels like hell
At the bottom of my wishing well.'
Mug Jugs, Butterflies & Cemetaries
Lazy day in Georgia, this Sunday was. It began with an afternoon trip to the local arts festival, where I snapped this artists' work.
Vendor was an outgoing, spirited soul & it shows through in his work Unusual for most potters, this stuff was microwave, dishwasher & oven safe...all lead free.
While we were there, we got some of the best damn salsa I have ever had. It's called Black Eye Pea salsa & was made in Cave Springs, Georgia. Some things, you can only get in the South.
Since art show only had 30-50 vendors, we still had a full day of nice weather before us, so we stopped by the neighborhood cemetary. Here we found the namesake for the street I live on, the headstone to the boy who was killed last spring down the street in a drug deal gone bad & what I beleive to be the tombstone of the late Fred Flintstone.
Finally, I was able to capture a pic of this crazy little butterfly that seemed to be following me from tombstone to tombstone. I always feel a special something when they let me take their picture. Their lives are so short & they seem to constantly flutter...so much to do in such a small amount of time. I'd rather be a butterfly, than an ant anyday, even though the ant lives longer, is more social, has more strength & accomplishes more...
Saturday, September 16, 2006
Those of you that have read through my blog, know that I love dogs. And in fact, I have 5 of them, whose pictures have previously been posted. They are all sweet spirited, loving & affectionate beings, so when I heard them barking like Satans' spawn in the yard, I was taken aback.
I raced out back & they paid me no mind, racing from one side of the yard to the other-still sounding furious. Not knowing the reason for their emotional upheaval & feeling their anxiety, I careened back into the house & peered out my windows. Nothing. So, still in my pj's, I ventured out front.
Tucked away in the jungle beneath my office window is a pond. A watering hole, a sanctuary, a life giving pit for fish, frogs, birds, algae & occasionally a water bowl for the stray neighborhood cat.
Attached is a photo of the reason for all of my dogs angst & anxiety.
These two beasts were having a ball. They'd get out, jot down my walkway a few steps, shake & thus watering my flowers...then back in they'd go...for a swim, a float, a sip & they even wrestled with each other in the pond.
Three hours later, I had to go to work. They were still in the pond. My dogs had calmed down, coming to accept the fact, that these dogs were here, perhaps, remembering taht at one time each of them were the new ones to the yard.
I imagine that the owners eventually found them, as they were gone when I got in from work last night & there was only the faintest reminders that they had been here...mud around the rocky path to the pond, georgia clay settled to the bottom & a few stick floating about the surface.
This pond had been home for the past 5 years to a total of 37 goldfish, all originating from a dollars worth of walmart fish (that would be 5 at 20cents each) up until about a month ago. About a month ago, I ,inadvertantly, got the AquaChem & Aquafix mixed up. A teaspoon & 12 hours later, I had 37 floating fish & was crushed for days. Since then, we've contemplated filling the pond back up with soil.
In hindsight, I guess my accidental euthanasia was better than having them trampled to death & gulped down by the big, wooly dogs. I imagine that those fish lived much longer, here in this pond then they would have elsewhere. And I cannot imagine NOT having this pond.
If it is to be filled with georgia clay again, may it come from the paws of the curious, the thirsty & the hot.
Friday, September 15, 2006
Ok, I found this on someone else's blog.
In laymans' terms, I think it is saying the same thing the doc's have been telling my for years...I am ADHD with manic/depressive tendencies. LOL.
If you want, check it out.
|Your Brain's Pattern|
Your mind is a multi dimensional wonderland, with many layers.
You're the type that always has multiple streams of though going.
And you can keep these thoughts going at any time.
You're very likely to be engaged in deep thought - and deep conversation.
Thursday, September 14, 2006
We have had rain all week, up until today, in fact. It's been greatly needed. So as Mother Nature smacked her waters upon our earth, things were uprooted. Today, her Sun was out...with all her beauty, warmth & glory, encouraging the flowers, tomatos & peppers to grow. She also had something special to show us,something that her rains had uncovered for us.
So, here is photo of latest marble, actually eyed by Timmy-toes.
Green. What could it mean? Really, only time will tell.
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Nana's in town, I am a teen-ager & she's turning 80.
We've been shopping and for her birthday, she bought herself some white thigh-high boots to match the black ones I'd worn to Van Halen the night before. She had also purchased a Cross-Your-Heart underwire bra. Her new boots, like mine, were 'our secret.'
I always kept mine folded over & scrunched down until I left the house. She kept hers hidden in the trunk of the car. Popdaddy, her hubby & my Grand-father, had already shunned both of us for the bra, proclaiming that it took what belonged around her waist & launched it into two pads creating what he called 'torpedos.' The boots would be too much for him to bear.
Fixing her curly blonde hair, she asked what my Saturday night plans were, as I watched her milky blue eyes dance in the mirror. "I don't know, probably just hang out, maybe, with the guys."
The guys ... my friends, my purely platonic band of about 5 boyfriends, young men that I spent every available hour with over the previous 5 years.
Nana always encouraged me to date, date one of them or at least kiss them. 'Don't dive in' she'd say,'but get your toes wet...kissing is too much fun & it doesn't have to mean too much. Kiss them. Find one that kisses good & kiss him again.' I never did, they're my friends & most of them I still keep up with, probably because I didn't.
Anyway, she went on to say 'Let's all go out together ...me, you & the guys,for my birthday. I'd love to be surrounded by a bunch of young, fit bachelors for my birthday.' I knew she couldn't wait to wear her new bra & boots.
I laughed & called the guys.
Flamingo Joe's was a local watering hole that would serve me. So at about 7, we piled into the car and drove around the corner. We stopped. She & I both jumped out, giggling like the girls we were. She put on her new boots & I re-arranged mine. The guys were cracking up.
At Flamingo Joes, we ordered muchies & cocktails, plugged quarters into the jukebox and commenced to celebrating Nana, torpedo ta-ta's, go-go boots & all.
Nana stole a sip of my Week-at-the-Beach & loved it much better than her usual...Vodka/OJ or whiskey on the rocks. The name tickled her & brought back fond memories, as we always tried to spend a week at the beach together each summer.
Week-at-the-Beach... The name. The drink. The times. She loved it all & her love was infectious.
Entranced by alcohol & her contagious spirit, she had the guys orbitting around her every word & every move. They were in her world now.
She told them about our last week at the beach. She told them about how she hoped that I had snuck out to attend a bonfire party. I didn't. She said I needed more balls. She said I had cupid lips, kissable lips, lips like Scarlett O'Hara, lips that needed to be kissed & often. Emarassed slightly, I laughingly said 'Nana, maybe you should have Sex-on-the-Beach!'
Eyes on fire & no trace of a blushing, 'Oh I would Love that! That's wonderful! You all should do that at least once!' I think it was Brian who said "Let's do it!' and ordered a round of Sex-0n-the-Beach for the birthday party.
Now, if the name WEEK-at-the-Beach entertained her...you can only imagine what SEX-on-the-Beach did. The stories flowed as quick as the booze.
Before you knew it we were drinking shots of all kinds...buttery nipples, slippery nipples, even screaming orgasms, and then later flaming orgasms. Sugary-sweet alcohol based reminders of 80 years. Eighty years of love & lust, patience & pain, commitment & timing, believing & doing, sacrifice & sanctity, family, friends, fruition...eighty years of living, loving & learning. Wisdom shared between sugar sweet sips, knowing glances & moments on the dancefloor.
She was the world.
Her eyes, her words, her spirit, her very being nurtured us, kept us pulled in close to her, urged us to grasp life with all ten fingers and a smile, encouraged us to embrace our youth & look forward to aging.
Suddenly, 'A Hula-Hoop! Owwhh, I love Hula Hoops' squealed out of Nana just as our server zoomed by. The server, called back over her shoulder. 'Yes, we're going to have a hula-hoop contest!' Nana was dancing in her seat.
The server went to the make-shift stage with her arms weighed down by hula-hoops & the bartender turned DJ, announced for folks to come to the front & ease her burden. He said, 'When the music starts, go! Last one spinning wins 25 bucks off their tab tonight!'
Needless to say Nana was the first one up there ... Laughing, spinning, clapping her hands, winking, blowing kisses & loving every minute of it...now the whole bar was part of her world. Men ran up, a little late in the game, to join her in the hula-hoop showdown. Everyone was entranced, entertained & inspired.
When she finally returned to the table, she had her 25 dollar gift certificate.
Undoubtedly, we knew that all her words were true, we knew all her thoughts were precious, all of her actions to be admired and one day perhaps , we, too, could have a week-at-the-beach with hula hoops, go-go boots & torpedo ta-ta's.
Embrace the day & age with gusto.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Sunday...I promised someone (((Me, with a capital 'M' and a little 'e,' not just a promise to me:))) that I would blog about Sunday & it's just taking me a couple days to get true to my word.
Lemme begin with a joke, a tale, a story that I recently heard, read or dreamed up.
A little boy was at his grand-parents 50th wedding anniversary party. When things began to quiet down, the young boy said to his Grand-pa, "Fifty years sure is a long time Gramps! How'd you get to marrying Grandma & how'd yawl stayed married so long?"
So Gramps told him the story of his first date with his Grandma, how he'd picked her up in Model-T, how Model-t's had to be cranked, rain or shine, how he had to pull off the side of the road to crank the car in the pouring rain on the way to dinner, how another driver zoomed past them splattering Georgia-clay-turned-to-mud all over them, how he got back in the Model-T mad as a hornet & chased the other driver down, how the other driver swerved to a stop & how he almost T-boned him, how he got out to meet the other driver in the street & how they were exchanging words, man to man.
He told the young boy how Grandma appeared suddenly between the two men & pointed her finger in the other man's face & calmly said "That's once." Gramps & the stranger fell silent, perplexed.
As Gramma turned back to the vehicle, Gramps & the other fellow went at it again.
She spun on her heel & came right between them again. Again with her finger pointing at the stranger, she calmly said "I'm telling you...now that's twice & I'll not tell you again." She walked back to the Model-T. The two young men stood speechless for a few minutes. Watching her retreat to the car, Gramps & the stranger started sharing words again.
With the calmness of long fallen snow, Gramma returned to the two men who were busy fussin' & a hollerin' at each other & she pulled up a shotgun & blew the strangers head off.
Granpa told the young boy how he immediately started yellin' at his Gramma...'Woman why'd you do that? Why'd you kill him? We wuz justa exchanging words! Are you crazy?!"
Granpa told the boy how she looked him square in the eye & ever-so-peacefully said 'That's once" and that they'd been happily married ever since.
'That's once' happened a couple weeks ago.
'That's Twice & I'll not tell you again' was my Sunday.
Sunday, September 03, 2006
Losing one's marbles...
Or finding them & being left to wonder,
where did they come from?
Whose pockets did they bounce around in & how did they wind up here?
This house sits on a small lot...between 1/3 & 1/4 acre lot and is about 1400 sq. ft. It's just over 100 yrs. old.
I have found about 50 marbles since moving here almost 7 years ago.
The first one was the dusty blue one on the outside band @ 8 o'clock. Before moving in, I yanked all the carpet & re-did the hardwoods. After spreading my 1st coat of sealant upstairs & on the steps...it rolled from somewhere up there, rolling, dropping & bouncing all the way down the steps, then across the floor about 12' to where it met me by the laundry room door. How I was able to remove the carpeting, sand the floors 5x & then seal them once without finding it, i'll never know but, I thought that this meant someone, somewhere was glad to see the hardwoods uncovered again.
The dark orange one( top row by the bright milky blue one) was found in the wall when we were cutting out of the back wall for a rear door, ironically enough, as we were talking shades of orange to paint the accent wall once the new door was installed. I took this one as a sign, that sunburnt orange would be A-OK, with somebody, somewhere.
Two green ones were found, as I was anxiously awaiting the phone call from the mortgage broker, to let me know if I qualified to buy a house...I was so excited that I ran inside & called my brother (it was his house I was trying to get qualified for...bank loans don't come easy for those that are legally blind & disabled). I told him about the marbles & that we were in the green. He didn't beleive me, until I called back 2 hrs later, after the broker had called with the jubilant news. I trusted the sign of the marbles
The most recent find was yesterday, It's black and brown/gold, but looks like gun metal in pic. I don't know what it means, but little Joseph rode his bike today for the first time without training wheels...in the gravel, through the grass, down the sidwalk, in the church parking lot & up the street.
The glowing white ones really have, what I call, ghosts inside them...white blurs of glass.
They're all really pretty and some look older than others, mishapen or scarred, different sizes & weights, different colors & textures.
I always feel like it's a good sign to find one...
a little reminder to look for the good, the simple, the forgotten...
And they always make me wonder...
Am I losing my marbles or simply finding somebody elses?
Saturday, September 02, 2006
Walking through my hearts' door
These souls grow for evermore
From three to six in just no time
The pitter-patter quickly turns to chitter-chatter
With these old souls, who could ask for more
Than just a moment, a day, a a taste of life
Live, Love, Learn