If there is such a thing as reincarnation, I'd like to drop my name in the box for Pixies.
Pixie...a fairylike or elfin creature, especially mischievous. A playful sprite.
Toothfairies, flowerfairies & the sandman all have a good life... but perhaps, just a little too good for me.
All this peace & love needs a little spit & fire.
I'd build my wings from sticks & twigs. I hold them together with sap & spit. I'd proudly flaunt about completely topless & I would never, ever wear shoes. I'd grow my hair long & I wouldn't really brush it. I'd be a professional. Much like the toothfairie, I would have a specialty...an area that I catered to.
Living my life as a Pixie, I would traipse in & out of people's homes, cars & places of employment...
I wouldn't visit everyone, of course, as everyone is not well-deserved of a fine, morally upstanding, professional, long-haired, barefooted, topless Pixie-on-a-mission. I would visit all the people who had once visited me & I would leave a trail, just as they had done.
I would bop in on the I-Can't-Read-Nor-Use-A-Measuring-Tape-But-Can-Tell-If-Its-The-
Right-Size-By-Looking-At-It persons' house & I would unravel every spool of thread, every bundle of rope & every dispenser of tape... just to see if I too, could measure with my eyes & mind.
I would pilfer through cupboards, stacking plates upon bowls, placing cups in pots & I'd put the lids to said pots on the mantle to the fireplace.
I would go into linen closets, remove pillow cases from their matching sheet sets & place them in the garage with the lawn equipment.
I would remove the lid from the gas tank on the lawn mower & place it in the socks & underwear drawer.
I would take one sock & do some spot cleaning in the bathroom with it.
I would remove half the screws from the bathroom fixtures & move the toothbrush holder to the backdoor, placing it right on the ground by Fido's bowl.
I would fill Fido's bowl with crystal beads, stolen from a garland which I found & disassembled.
I would take the peppermill & seasalt grinder & I would grind salt & pepper onto the coffee table & the maybe I'd dabble my initials in it.
I would take all books off of the coffee table & place them on the floor.
I would open umbrellas & put them in the center of the room, along with any mail I might find.
I'd pull one slice of cheese, one egg, one link of sausage out of their packets & place them on the floor right in front of the refrigerator.
I would unscrew pump lotions & squirt a little bit on the counter, then I would smear my fingers through it. A little dab will do.
I would take pictures off of the wall & place them on the furniture, hoping not to scratch any wood.
If I had a Pixie-child, I would let her chew on candles or cashmere sweaters, as she saw fit.
Every now & again, I would nibble on some food...taking, say one bite, out of a loaf of fresh-baked bread or a corner off of a belgium candy bar...yum!yum!
I would take apart Parker ink pens to see if the ink looked different & then I would scribble on pretty victorian stationary sets to see if they write differently.
I'd take car keys off of the rings & re-organize alphabetical files according to my mood.
I'd open glove compartments & trunks & I'd leave them open, amybe even pulling spare tires & jacks out just to look at them.
Oh, I would be such a good little Pixie...
All in good fun, no harm meant & no money spent.
Much like the shoppers at Christmastime.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Saturday, December 08, 2007
I met a man around the Fourth of July.
I called him Freedom.
He called me a Beautiful Soul.
He was young, well-employed, tall, and handsome with dark hair & light eyes.
We never did anything but talk.
I told him about my upcoming divorce.
He told me about his recent one.
He told me that he had screwed up with his ex-wife by fooling around on her.
He said he did it to stroke his ego.
He told me that if my husband said he loved me (he did)...
that if my husband said he would change his lying & cheating ways (he did)...
that perhaps, I should give him a second chance. (I did)
On the day of my divorce, Freedom called.
He wanted to see me & I said 'no.'
'Freedoms just another word for nothing left to lose'
but you can not lose what you never had.
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
Momma moved at lightning speed... strapping Chanty Boy in the back & laying Curt sound asleep, thumb in his mouth, on his side on the vinyl next to him.
I was small, real small ... but I was awake.
'Get in' she said, holding the front passenger door open. The late 1960's and a four door sedan... mother & toddler chit-chatting it up on a impromptu roadtrip. Before I knew it, we were there.
At Nana's... a 'lovely' place to be, where clovers grew like monkey grass & flowers had petals of velvet, garages had no doors & inside doors slid in and out of the wall, where rotary dial phones were in the kitchen & colored the same as the appliances...a a dark seafoam teal, where Bob Barker was always on the tv, murals were painted on the walls & Nana's loving spirit filled us all.
'Go outside & water the flowers. I have to talk to your Nana.'
Meandering back in through the door that we never used moments later...
'Honey, you can't come back home to your mother & father. You have to go back home...to the one you made with your husband & your children.'
I indian-footed back out of ear shot. I had never heard Nana's voice without a light-hearted ring in it before. Instinctively I knew not only that her words were not for my ears, but also that my ears didn't want them.
Before it got to be dark, Momma gathered us up.
'Momma, aren't we staying the night? We always get to spend the night.'
'Not tonight baby...we're going back home.'
And she put me in the backseat with Curt & Chantyboy.
Sunday, December 02, 2007
Momma's rotten girl
She knows when she wants out...
About three feet in front of me, she formed herself into a bowling ball, rolling her brindle & white-self all the way up my knees and chest until she was nestled into the nape of my neck, wet nose snorting like a pig in her sty.
'Oh my goodness...who's puppy is this?! She's like a little shooter marble!'
'She's boarding here from pitbull rescue...wontcha take her home?'
'Ha! She's so cute, little miss marbeline, but I don't think so. My house is an over-grown dog-house already. I am sorry'
'Oh, no problem. We just placed an internet ad last night & have already had 16 responses. She's so cute, we won't have a hard time placing her. We gotta get spaded first & we can't do that until she's 10 weeks, so we'll get to enjoy her for a while yet.'
Six weeks later...
'Paige, she's still here. Everyone wants her, but no one qualifies. You coined her name. She's meant to be with you.'
And...that's the story of how Marbeline came to be with me.
Saturday, November 03, 2007
I get called all kinds of things & I answer to just about any & all of them. Outside of the generic pet names dosed out here in the south, such as darlin', babe, dear, sweetie, shoog (as in shew-gah aka sugar) I also get called some pretty specific proper names, which are not mine. Most often these names are Pam, Peg and for some strange reason, Faith. Doesn't matter really.
If you're talking to me, I will pretty much talk back, I was raised that way. Mom usually went through a smorghasborg of names before she got to mine. I think anyone with three or more children in the house is allowed to do this & I think that those children should listen when spoken to, regardless of what they are being called.
Call me what you will.
None-the-less, I do have a name. A legal one. It's attached to my social security number.
I have the name that I was born unto, but it's not my legal name.
I had my legal name changed after I got married.
The social security office told me to write, then sign, what I wanted my legal name to be. I asked if I could change my name to #&?@* and was advised that I had to have a legal reason to change my legal name. I asked about the Artist Formerly Known as Prince & was told he had his legal reasons. They said that my legal reason was my marriage.
But now, I'm divorced & the judge declared that I could go and change my name back.
I decided to get married much for the same reasons that I chose to get divorced ... I was moving forward in life .
But legally, it would look like I am moving in circles... in fact, like I am going back.
I haven't gone down to the Social Security office with my divorce papers yet, but when I do I hope to let you know if they will allow me to simply change my name or if they will tell me if I can only change it back.
I still love him & he loves me but there's no going back.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Who's Got My Golden Arm...as I knew it, growing up.
Growing up with 5 kids in the family every night was a slumber party. But on the week-end, one or two of us would invariably have spend the night company. And about 5 times a year we would have a true slumber party and that is when the ghost stories would fly. This is the story of the Golden Arm, as we knew it then, as children sitting indian-style upon the wooden floors, huddled in a circle, hanging on every word...
He was so rich that people would travel the winding road that led up to his house to ask for favors and donations of money.
Children would venture to his door, trying to peddle their girl scout cookies, candy bars and magazine subscriptions for school. But even more often, parents would arrive with their daughters in tow...knowing this rich man was not married, they hoped that he would fall helplessly in love with their daughter.
He turned the children away, despite all the wonderful goodies they had to offer. Likewise, he turned all of the fair women away...many of which were young and beautiful. He turned them all away because he beleived that no-one was really interested in him...that they were only really interested in his money & his castle on the hill.
One day, a woman arrived at his door. She was not looking for money or for love. She simply needed directions. He was suspicious, but after listening to her tales of getting lost, he found himself most captivated by her arm...her Golden Arm.
He invited her in for tea....she must be very thirsty after her long & lost travels. He would give her the directions she needed, but curiosity got the best of him & he wanted to know more about this Golden Arm of hers.
So over a glass of tea, she told him how she had been born the daughter of the richest man in the land (a man even richer than himself) and how she had been in a terrible horse riding accident as a little girl riding the horse her father had given her. Her father felt terrible.
When she lost her arm, she cried & cried & cried. Who would ever fall in love with a one-armed girl? How would she ever tend to a home, a husband and a child with only one arm? Her tears of pain & loss only made her father's guilt grow.
So when she was a young lady, her father gave her the gift of the Golden Arm. It was made of the finest gold of the world & made to look exactly like her other arm, but of solid gold. Her father told her that no-one, no thing, no accidents, no horses could ever take this arm from her... it was her Golden Arm.
Entertained by her tale of the Golden Arm, he gave her the directions she needed and then invited her back for tea the next day.
Day after day, they enjoyed afternoon tea together and eventually they married.
He thought no man was as fortunate, as blessed, as lucky as he.
Then suddenly one day, his wife died.
He was saddened, but truth be known, he loved her Golden Arm much more than he had ever loved her.
(voice drops, slightly above a whisper) So, not long after his beloved wife had been buried, he grabbed his shovel & began to dig.
With each dig of the shovel into the dirt that covered his wife, he thought to himself... oh, that Golden Arm... I must have that Golden Arm... I am going to get that Golden Arm.
And eventually, he found her & her Golden Arm.
Covered in dirt, her face was so pale.
In the moonlight her lips were so ashy...
but that Golden Arm...it glistened, it shined, it was so bright & still so beautiful.
He grabbed it out & quickly covered his dead wife with the fresh dirt he had piled up.
All the while, thinking to himself...I have the Golden Arm! I got it! I finally got the Golden Arm!
He ran with the Golden Arm through the cemetary, through the woods and up the foggy dark hillside, back to his castle. He took the Golden Arm & hid it deep in the secret safe. The safe that no-one else had ever known about, not even his beloved wife.
After all his hard work digging & his wild uphill running, he found himself exhausted. He sat in his chair, the chair he always sat in for afternoon tea & quickly fell asleep.
He awoke to a sound
(voice in a sing-song whisper)"Who's got My Golden Arm?" (story teller looks maniacally into the eyes of the first child)
The old rich man is startled by the ghostly vision of his dead wife before him.
(sing-song whisper)"Who's got My Golden Arm?" (story teller peers deeply into the eyes of the second child)
Her skin was so pale, he was terrified.
(sing-song whisper)"Who's got My Golden Arm?" (story teller looks frantically into the eyes of the third child)
Her ruby red lips were ashen & gray...could it really be her?
(sing-song whisper)"Who's got My Golden Arm?" (story teller looks insanely into the eyes of the fourth child)
Her hair was clumped with fresh dirt...could she still be alive?
(sing-song whisper)"Who's got My Golden Arm?" (story teller looks nervously into the eyes of the fifth child)
(sing-song whisper)"Who's got My Golden Arm?" (story teller looks painfully into the eyes of the sixth child)
(Whisper falling to just a trace of a voice...singing in an increasingly desperate, eerie, high pitched tone, causing us children to reel in closer, gripping our knuckles tight & keeping our eyes wide open) "Who's Got My Golden Arm? Who's Got My Golden Arm?""Who's got My Golden Arm?"
Once all of us kids were torn between anticipation and desperation, the story teller would abruptly scream 'YOU DO!' as she grabbed hold of one poor childs' arm.
All of us would scream, year after year.
None of us ever wanted that Golden Arm & we still don't!
Original Story written in 1883 by Aarne Thompson. Artwork by JustGiveMePeace artist, SAS.
Friday, October 26, 2007
With shiny, thin, red lips rumpled over her small, yellowed teeth she asked 'Can you help me?'
'Of course, sweetheart, what do you need?'
'Heh-heh-heh. Well, i don't really need anything. I'm too old for that. When I was young & had needs I put them on the backburner to take care of those around, especially that son-of-a-bitch. Ah, that's alright, I didn't really think anything I wanted was ever a need anyway.'
'Hahaha, okay honey, then what do you want?'
'I want you to help me get that rug. I always wanted a rug & that son-of-a-bitch never wanted one, never would let me have one...said they were dirt traps.'
'Okay, well, I will be more than happy to get it for you.'
I followed her, with her hunched back & darting, dancing blue eyes over to the mountain of rugs. She had picked out a 8 x 10 persian wool rug. It was big, thick & tightly tufted...very plush. I had her help guide it, as we rolled it down from the mountain of rolled textiles & onto my right shoulder & then told her to steer clear. It weighed a ton. As I scaffolded my way through the store with it, I asked if she had someone at home who could offload it for her.
'Yeah, that son-of-a-bitch's bastard son. He's forty...he can do it...if he's not too doped up.'
En route to her car & back she told me about the 'son-of-a-bitch.' He was her spouse for almost seventy years. They had four children. When their children were all but grown, he had a child with another woman. As this childs' mother was in & out of the hospital for drug & alcohol use, the child was in & out of their home.
Her husband was verbally and physically abusive to her until he became too old & too tired to beat her down anymore. His death came slowly & he required much care in his dying years & he was too stubborn and demanding to allow anyone to care for him but his wife.
'Well, he loved you dearly, I'm sure, he just didn't express it in a healthy manner.'
'I thought it was love. For nearly seventy years, I thought it was love. It wasn't honey, he just used me. I was his care-giver, the mother to his children, his maid & servant. I now know that man didn't know the meaning of love.'
'Well, he defined it differently for sure. At least he provided well for you & the children, right?'
'Well, the house has been paid off for over thirty years now. He changed jobs, like I changed the linens. Outside of the house, I was hung out to dry just like those linens & I almost lost the house too '
'Yeah, what savings we had, he spent. Then he went & co-signed on credit cards & car loans for that bastard son. By the time he died, that boy had over 80 grand in debt with my husbands name attached to it all & that boy, well he just quit paying. Them collectors came like bees on honey when that son-of-a-bitch husband of mine died. I had to hire me an attorney just to keep the house & that cost me thousands of dollars. I thought I was gonna be homeless. I had to start working at the daycare. I still do & that's why I can afford to get me this here rug. I work 5 hours a day, five days a week.'
'Well, I hope you enjoy this rug plenty then. You have worked hard for it'
'Oh I will. I lived my whole life with dirt. Anytime I tried to sweep it up, it just gets in my face & all over everything. I think that with this here rug, at least the dirt can get buried. That son-of-a-bitch never wanted me to have no rug. He was nothing but a liar, a cheat & a thief. If I'd known 50 years ago what I know today, I woulda got me a job at the daycare back then & a rug too.'
Her eyes drifted over the vehicle, through our small lot & to somewhere beyond. 'I woulda left him, but I didn't know....I just didn't know. I just didn't know any better. You married, honey?'
'No Ma'am.' 'You would be proud of me, I just divorced a liar, a cheat, a thief.'
I know there are multiple sides to every story.
This woman's resentment was undeniable. Regardless of where the blame belongs or where it falls, the bottom line is that she was eaten up with anger & resentment. As much as she resents her husbands infidelity, instability & abusiveness... it was apparent to me that she, in fact, resented herself & her own choices. I remember reading once somewhere that what makes old, crotchety people act with anger is reflection upon a life lived without going for what they want. In my opinion, this woman knew 50 years ago, maybe nearly 70 years ago, that she wanted out... that she wanted something more or at least, something different and she never acted on those wants.
All this being said...if there is something you want in life...go for it.
'I hope you enjoy this life plenty. You have worked hard for it.'
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Intuition. Perception. Insight. Vision. Instinct. Knowledge. Realization. Awareness. Psychic. Sensitive. Open. Premonition. Sixth Sense....or common sense?
Visions, tarot cards & crystal balls, divining rods & palm-reading, runes, ouija boards, tea leaves & horoscopes... so many things to tell us what we already know. Entertainment for some & something much more for others.
I have two crystal balls that I received as gifts, sitting on my great-great grandmother Bashaby's old oak church pump organ. My great aunt Belles' six inch thick 1880's bible is tucked inside & a childhood photo of my mother & her parents sits on the hymn tray. There is no ouiji board in this house, but my twenty year old tarot cards are tucked away in the bowels of an old box within these walls. My crystal pendulum hangs from a hook two notches down from my hammered spoon cross. Hmmm... perhaps all these things equal balance...maybe it's even feng shui....a collusion of conflict....balance. I don't know.
Again, mere entertainment for some & something much more for others.
Some folks may think I am a witch or that I am lost soul who hasn't been talking to the right man, but like Dr. Suess said "Be who you are & say what you feel because those who mind don't matter & those who matter don't mind."
I think we are all intuitive, we all have a sixth sense. Not everyone has common sense.
Anyway, this post is for entertainment purposes only as I recently bought an entertaining little book. It's a thick little book with very few words. In fact, open it anywhere & you'll see somewhat primitive looking diagrams, drawings & pictures on the left & a handful of words on the right.
Page 6 says 'The premise is simple. Ask a question, receive an answer.'
I quickly discovered that I really don't have too many questions to ask & intuitively speaking, my dogs have absolutely none. Not nearly as entertaining as I thought it could be.
Tapping out this blog entry...rambling, really going no where with words, it seemed only natural to ask if I should, in fact, do a post about this little book & I flipped it open. In henna colored ink, the page I opened up to to says 'It is happening already.' Twa-la-da-la! With a flip of the page, I discovered I am proficient at divination!
Instead of hitting 'delete' I will hit 'publish' and invite any of you to ask a yes or no question (in your own head or in written word) and I will flip a page for you.
Entertain me folks & who knows, maybe me & my little book can entertain you ;)
I need a distraction
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Monday, October 15, 2007
Wrinkles are like Merit Badges & we should wear them proudly.
Laughter is more contagious than the common cold, so we should all giggle when we sneeze.
Smart women know when to play dumb & dumb ones play like they are smart.
The truth often times is what you perceive it to be, but not necessarily what you want it to be.
Making mistakes is what gives us wisdom.
Frying bacon in the buff can be very dangerous.
Once an addict, always an addict... even if you haven't given in to your addiction in years.
Marriage is a legal binding contract, kinda like a lifelong lease & to get out of it, you must go to court.
Things that are painful, often become more painful, before they get better.
Being broke & being poor are two different things.
Pets help keep the heart & mind healthy.
Success is the sweetest revenge.
The seemingly smallest things can mean the most.
Quality over quantity.
Time is a limited resource and should never be taken for granted.
One can never have enough friends.
Family is not defined by bloodlines, but by circles of love.
You cannot help someone who is not willing to help themselves first.
Love Notes need not be long.
Everyone has their own Individual Divine Principles by which they live. Some define it for themselves, some pull from many different resources and still others allow it to be defined and transcribed to them.
The God Lord gave us sleep & dreams because he knew too much of anything, including the waking world, isn't a good thing.
Half of my life is a distraction from the other half.
Life is a mountain of moments, we should make each one count.
Those who fail to prepare are preparing to fail.
Honesty is the foundation of all healthy relationships. Without it, we cannot build a house of love, nor have windows of trust & floors of faith.
We should never assume that someone else would handle a situation the same as we would.
If we never chase our dreams, they will eventually become disappointments.
99% of communication is interpretation.
One mans' trash is another man's treasure.
Words, no matter how simple in form, backed by action are the most profound words of all.
'Endings' are new beginnings.
Love grows, even when we don't see it.
Smile big when getting your pic taken at the DMV...if you get pulled over, the officer should see a happy face.
A smile makes every one look better ... crooked teeth, no teeth, no matter what.
When we are young, we have resources but often lack the balls. When we grow older we have the balls to do just about anything...but don't always have the resources.
Never trust someone that your dog innately dislikes.
Life is for living, learning & loving & if we are not doing all 3 of these things, then we are not doing any one of them effectively.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Sometimes he doesn't seem so happy
Like His World is super small
A tattoo upon his shoulder
He seems so much older
With a cross upon his brow.
This is a short piece I wrote some 15 years ago & for whatever reasons, I saved it.
It was about a guy I once knew... a musician, a husband, a father, a prostitute & friend.
At least those were the things he was when I knew him.
His wife, who became his ex-wife when his best friend was done with his tour of duty in the middle east, was an interesting lass.
They were constantly broke & by government standards, they lived in poverty. Together, with their absolutely beautiful 3 year old daughter, they lived in a small room in his grandfathers' house. The room was large enough to accomodate one twin bed & all of their worldly belongings, which his wife kept articulately organized.
She had a vision & she had a craft.
She would go the Dollar General and buy masking tape, two rolls for a buck. Then, she would walk around back and take a dip in their dumpster. there she would find a sliver of a box, in which she would tuck lots of other broken down boxes. She had a thing for cardboard.
At home, either in her family's room ... or outback on the concrete pad, she would whip out her blade and begin cutting, folding, notching and taping.
You see, outside of the twin size mattress and boxsprings, which sat on the floor, and the hand-me-down clothes... she had no material goods, certainly no other furniture.
But out of cardboard & tape, this girl built a desk and an armoire, a laundry hamper & shelving units.
In the Dollar General dumpster one day, she came across some toss pillows that had apparently been sliced wide-open when employees had cut into the fright box they came in. She grabbed the pillows & runted around for a good long time in that dumpster. Finally, her head popped back up. "I found it! The Perfect Box! See...it's thick & corrogated! I can work wonders with this!"
Several days later, I got to see her completed work... a pumpkin turned into a carriage. With a spent pillow stuffing mattress, a high headboard covered in sliced pillow sleeve butterflies and a canopy top dangling even more butterflies...she had made her baby girl her very own custom sized bed.
The sight gave me butterflies & the memory still does.
Monday, October 01, 2007
Updates on the Skinny Little Blonde...
1- She misses her time spent leisurely traipsing through the blog-o-sphere & fears she will never be afforded such leisure time again... but is ever so grateful for the time she has had & thinks of many of all quite often.
2- Five of her five dogs have been sick or otherwise neurotic with the changes going on within her household. She is never lonesome & always feels needed.
3- Her hair measures 11" from the nape of her neck on the backside, so she will probably be getting it whacked around the holidays for Locks of Love.
4- Gone are her days of the 4-7 minute commute, as she is back into the grind of interstate travel, traffic jams & rush-hour mayhem. This means that approximately 55+ hours a week will be spent devoting herself to work....although this has proved to be a minimum.
5- Her automobile has a tribe of tiny ants residing in the rubber seals around the doors, the console & lord knows where else. She fears they will eat her electrical system & believes that they came from parking on her brick parkpad under the oak tree. These ants appear to all be crazy, as they do not walk in a uniform line & they are the fastest moving ants she has ever seen.
6- She will be attending a formal wedding & will, for the first time in her life, have to wear a cocktail dress... despite her belief that hippies should be exempt from such things, she is willing to do so for her good friend, the DeeBug ;)
7- For the first time in ages, she went to live musical venue, where she was able to meet, hug & get the autograph of G. Love from G Love & Special Sauce.
8- If she has her way, she will also be attending the Foo Fighters show in Atlanta on October 4th, maybe she will also get to meet, hug & get an autograph from the ever so talented David Grohl. She can't help but sing 'The Best of You' at the top of her lungs any time she hears it.
9- She has replaced her Starbucks bottled Coffee flavored Frappaccino addiction with McDonalds Regular Iced Coffees, but still believes McDonalds otherwise sucks.
10-Finally, the Skinny Little Blonde has started a small savings account for the first time in years...it is called 'Beach Money' and began with a twenty from SHE and is now up to 20.28!
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
I have to wear a cocktail dress. Have you ever done that?
Nope. I wore my wedding dress & last year I wore a formal.
Hmm...I've never even shopped for a cocktail dress. I don't think I can walk in heels either.
Wear ballet slippers. That's what I wear.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Monday, September 17, 2007
When I was in college, I volunteered at a group home for children living with HIV and AIDS. It was a huge, older two story home in the heart of the city. I believe there were 18 permanent residents there. They were wards of the state, yet they were not in foster care. Their mothers had either abandoned them, were imprisoned and a shocking large amount of them were deceased. These were the children that were born unto this world with HIV. They were, for the most part, children unknown to our society.
One little girl, maybe 3 or 4, with chocolate brown hair...wild & curly and eyes the size, color & depth of a never-ending cup of coffee with cream and sugar, immediately took to me.
Lol, I'll never forget her exclaiming 'You gotta bug on you! I get it!' and fervantly pinching & pulling at a sticking-out kinda mole I had on my neck area. (This ultimately led to the removal of this mole, but that's another story;) She was helping me, protecting me.
But having an ever greater impact upon me & countless others with whom I have shared this with were the words of wisdom that flew from her mouth one sunny afternoon.
I had her in my arms and her legs straddled my waist. I would bend over, throwing her backwards & upside down, with my arms crisscrossed over her upper back and shoulder blades as to avoid disturbing her AZT pack wrapped around her mid-section and then I would scoop her back up again. Each time we would squeal......'Weeeeeeee,' 'Whoooooaaaa,' 'Ewwwwww' with great delight at our two-person make-do roller-coaster ride.
Finally she says 'OK, Stop!' and I did... fearful that I had made her dizzy or woozie or what-have you. She then smiled , cocked her curly head to the side & said 'Now, throw me up waaaaay high'
I lifted her up quickly and brought her back down, never allowing her to slip my grasp. Her brows crossed & she quickly barked 'No! Throw Me!'
I laughed, 'Baby, I can't just throw you...what if I don't catch you? I worry that you could get seriously hurt...'
As I rambled on about what we could do & couldn't do & such, she took her two fat little little hands and smooshed my face between them... as in a polite, gentle gesture to shut me up.
'You silly adults...don't you guys know anything? Life should be fun!'
Cupid's lips pucked up & jutted out in a toddlers' pout.
Smooshy-faced, I smiled back at her.
'Throoooow meeeeee. It'll beeeeee-a-eeeee ok! Life should be fun, you know?'
So, I did.
I threw her higher & higher.
Over & over again.
... and it was fun.
May we all learn from the mouth of babes.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
09-11... no TV, no newspapers, no radio...natural for me & wisely suggested by the infinitely wise, She.
The telephone rings, but only collectors are calling... no new news there.
It's a day to reflect.
I hung no new flags, tied no more yellow ribbons & won't drive by day with my lights on.
Not because I don't care or am not unaware.
I have flags hanging, some dating back 20 years.
My yellow ribbons get dirty and frayed from the weather and ultimately they come down...and that always makes me sad. So my solution has been to not put them around the big old oak trees anymore.
My headlights won't shut off on their own & I will surely end up with a dead battery, should I turn them on by daylight.
Someone once ribbed me for saying I was proud to be an American, as I became American simply by being born here. True. I guess I ought not be proud to have my family either, but I am. I am more than proud...I am grateful & relieved.
Welcome to be little corner of the world.
Walking down my street, up my walkway, past my mailbox & onto my porch, sit for a spell & then venture into my living room, my kitchen, my den, my office you will see little reminders of me, my friends, my family & my country.
May we never forget.
May the circle go unbroken.
May we nurture the good & let love grow.
May we remain thankful, grateful, aware & appreciative.
May we continue to live, love & learn.
May open hearts, open minds & open communications clear the way for peace... at home, at work, at school & globally.
Saturday, September 08, 2007
rap-a-tap-tap-tap at the door...
Ruff! Ruff! Ruff! Grrrrr....
With skin still embossed from the thread-bare sheet, I stumbled through the artillery of dogs to the door.
'Would you like to buy some magazines for my school?'
'Yeah baby, when do you have to turn this stuff in?'
'Great...can you come back on Tuesday? I get paid on Wednesday & can give you a check.'
'Yes, honey...we can come back. how are you Skinny?'
'Good, neighbor-lady...How are you?'
'Collectors are calling...you know. My husband saw your husband this morning & he was on his way to the river... you didn't go?'
'Ummmm, no. We divorced last month.'
'Oh, I am sorry. I will pray for you.'
'That's alright honey. Save your prayers for those who really need them. I'm all good.'
'I need to come over more often & talk to you. You have just been talking to the wrong person.'
'What are you talking about?'
'You should have been talking to God!'
'Well neighbor-lady, I don't know who you think I have been talking to...'
'You should talk more with God Skinny'
'I talk to anyone & everyone. In my opinion life is for living, learning & loving...and if you're not doing all 3, then you aren't doing any of them effectively. I've made my choices & I have made mistakes. I'm living, learning & loving. it's all good.'
'But God can cure all. He can work miracles.'
''Getting married was my choice & so was getting divorced. I am not going to pray about that ...I'm living, learning & loving.'
'You should write that down somewhere...'
Am I naive? Can't this 'person' I 'need to talk to' called God be part of me? Can't I skip the whole calling him God thing? Can't what she calls God, I call my heart & soul? Can't reflection on my end be the same as a prayer on hers? Can't my friends & family be considered a community of the church? Can't my choices made, lessons learned, loves shared & life lived be considered a miracle?
I didn't say any of these things to her for three basic reasons.
One~ It's not my place to push my beliefs onto anyone else
Two~Nor did I feel like I needed to validate myself any further.
Three~ I'm just glad she believes. I believe, maybe differently than her, but I believe & I know it's all good.
Hmmm, Living, learning & loving... sounds so satanic, evil & corrupt, doesn't it?
Monday, September 03, 2007
Saturday, August 25, 2007
The Devil went down to Georgia
and he was looking for a soul to steal
He was in a bind
'Cause he was way behind
And he was willin' to make a deal...
The school cafeteria is bustling in the early hours of the morning.
And if you care to take a dare, I'll make a bet with you.
Everyone has their job to do and some folks just walk around carrying a sheet of paper while others are shuffling mass quantities of this & that here and there preparing for the daily influx of 100's of hungry kids.
I take your bet, you're gonna regret cause I the best there's ever been.
The government dictates the borders of what will be fed & the lunch ladies have to stay within those borders to provide a proper diet for the children. And should a child not have lunch money for so many days...cheese sandwich
Just sit right in that chair right there
And let me show you how it's done
Some folks laughed & others' stared in disgust, but she broke loose and she shook her fanny & twisted her hips, stomped her feet & clapped her hands. Charlie Daniels squeaked out on the little radio & for the moment, the cafeteria floor became Georgia clay & the paper holder became a chicken running from the Devil & one little lunch lady became Johnny.
Johnny said, Devil just come on back
If you ever wanna try again
I done told you once you son of a bitch
I'm the best there's ever been
And he played Fire on the Mountain
Run boys, run
The devil's in the House of the Rising Sun
Chicken in a bread pan picken' out dough
Granny does your dog bite
No child, no
Later in the day, she smuggled a cookie into the pocket of the man whose real name is Johnny & she bit her tongue while a young, boy new to the school, was told he could only have a cheese sandwich. As his eyes swelled with tears, she started shoveling food...green beans, corn, pizza all onto an unrung plate. The paper-holder paced with her paper, chicken lips flapping about rules & regulations. And the cafeteria lady with a fiddle made of gold took that cheese sandwich & those teary eyes & replaced them with hugs, love & a plate full of green beans, pizza & trust.
Granny does your dog bite
No child, no
~ Charlie Daniels Band
Sometimes it's about quality, not quantity. 1000 cheese sandwiches could never compete with that scoop of green beans, that slice of pizza.
Monday, August 20, 2007
When I was a kid at the beach, I liked to lay with my head in the still moist, shimmering like diamond dust sand, one ear against the ground with my feet in the lapping, sometimes yellow & sometimes green sea foam.
Laying there, I felt like I could hear the heartbeat of the ocean.I felt free to do nothing, but soak it all in.
I 'd see how long I could just lay there before the sea foam starting tickling the side of my face & threatened to splash my eyes with salt water. Sometimes I'd just close my down-side eye and allow Mother Nature to tickle me with ribbons of water, other times I would scooch with the changing tide.
Laying there, I would let my imagination run wild.
I would daydream about desolate beaches...
about the Florida beaches before white man came...
about beaches where horses ran free...
about glass houses underneath the water...
about Atlantis in the Atlantic out my backdoor...
about being small enough to ride a seahorse...
about Chicken of the Sea labels...
about being saved from tragedy by a great octopus...
about Great Whites giving me water park rides...
about mermaids and about being a mermaid...
about what type of seashell I would want to live in if I was a little mermaid.
I always thought conchs would be better than the typical clam shells. Granted clam shells can close tight & one could sleep soundly & safely there. But the interior swell of the conch would provide natural pillow and the exterior would be like a form fitted blanket. Besides with my feet tucked deep within the conch, I could stay closer to all the action, ready to climb on out ...kinda like sleeping with the door opened.
Even in my sleep, I never wanted to miss a beat.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
38 years ago, this week, in '69 as Hurricane Camille began her voyage straight towards home, my younger brother was born. Dad was out of town on business. My mothers' sister came to sit with the four of us as Momma was raced to the hospital. Chanty boy was born with Downs' Syndrome, among other things and Mother was told she may as well go home & evacuate her remaining children as he would never make it through the night. She had to have courage & she did. He, at a few hours of age, had to have courage & he did. And we all got lucky.
Chanty Boy made it through the night, through the week, through his teens and all the way to his 38th birthday. The man, who will always be Chanty-Boy to me, has courage.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHANTY BOY! WE ARE SO VERY LUCKY TO HAVE YOU!
Some of you are aware that my beautiful, sweet, soulful sister Kimbies was diagnosed with Her2+ Breast Cancer last year. She, too, has had courage... the deep, powerful, loving kind of courage that you never even know exists until the time has come for it to reveal itself. I sit back and I look at her with an awe and an amazement that words could never wrap around, yet I find her love, her courage, her strength, her passion wrapping all around me... and it wraps around everyone she comes in contact with. Talk to her once & it'll wrap around you too.
At one point in time, not so long ago, I thought I would never even get a mammogram. I thought I would just live until I died...which I know is ultimately what I'd be doing no matter what. I thought 'there are some things I just don't wanna know...'
Several weeks before I filed for divorce, I had my first mammogram. A couple weeks after I filed, it came back 'suspicious.' So I went back for a 'magni-mammo.' It, too, came back suspicious & they sent me to a surgeon.The mammogram picked up things that no self-exam ever could. The surgeon said my bi-rad score was a four & that I had a high density (and to think I thought firm breasts were good ;) He said that they would probably remove all suspicious areas while pulling for the biopsy.
I was scared, facing divorce & possibly cancer.
But, I thought about my Mother, my brothers, my sisters, Mel, Vicci, She with Courage, the Dog Whisperer , Kharma & so many other others and all the COURAGE they have had. I thought about all the other times in my life I had to have courage. I thought about how TODAY we were all so LUCKY to have each other, like many other days gone by & days yet to come.
So I pulled out my peaceful Lucky shirt sent ever so generously & thoughtfully by COURAGE & plopped it over my bony head, my bony shoulders & my grateful heart. I went in for for my stereotactic procedure & the results, which I know will be good, should be here by next week-end. Sometimes we just gotta have COURAGE in order to get lucky!
Ladies & Gentlemen...please get your mammograms done. Educate yourselves. Have Courage & Maybe We will All Get Lucky!