...quiet, about a lot of things...

Wednesday, May 30, 2007

These Are the Best of Times..Right?

So when the pics below were taken...the date was May27th 2007. My eldest daughter Rachel's 17th Birthday. Happy birthday!

I woke up that morning with a pain in my back. I thought I had pulled a muscle riding the day before. By the time my feet hit the floor..I knew that this was no muscle.

This was a kidney stone. I have had them before..so I am quite familiar with the hot poker-knife-stabby-hell-fire-pain...I was feeling in my lower back.

I called Michael, who was with Maggie in Glenwood Springs..at a soccer tournament...and told him he probably would fine me at the hospital upon his return..or at the morgue. When I am in pain I am quietly dramatic.

I ran a bath, popped some extra strength Motrin,took a muscle relaxer, and waited to die. I was lucky. I only had to pray for death for about a half an hour..and....

as suddenly as it was there...the wicked thorny beast called stone was gone POOF.

It's amazing, once the pain is gone..for a split second, you remember to be grateful for comfort..no pain, just breath and ease. Life smells sweet. Life is good...

So by 10:30 Rach and I were off to brunch...Then she joined me cross country at 3:00 to be my personal action photographer. She was treated to a round of Happy Birthdays from my adrenaline tipsy horse gal friends. She seemed to be having a great time. I thought all had gone well.

At least I was happy.......
posted by wendy at 8:22 AM 8 comments

Tuesday, May 29, 2007

It Was the Best of Times, It Was the Worst of Times

Let's start with the best of times....

posted by wendy at 8:10 AM 3 comments

Thursday, May 24, 2007

Poetry Thusday..I'm Back, Baby!

Firstly, let me say being away from poetry for a couple of nights...then coming back, is scary. I am shy all over again. The same thing happens when Michael goes away(every week). I know I love him and know him and trust him. But as he walks through the door, he some how feels different, and strange. Our first embraces are always guarded and forced, like kissing your auntie you have only met once. A necessary evil..oh, I meant nicety.

Neil wrote a very candid PT post about how startling it can be when you write feelings down, and do not edit, or craft, or style for presentation.A very brave post really.It's hard to be honest. Some emotions splay us more then others.

I, personally, am very comfortable in my slightly melancholy, hopeful voice. Very easy for me. I would say that is the real me,my real voice. A long time ago I wrote some lines in a poem. I think I was twenty. I had platinum blond hair a la Madonna a la Marilyn.

"letting my head hang over the bed
I look at myself, upside down
backwards in the mirror.
If I squint my eyes to blurr
most details, I swear I look
almost like Marilyn
right before she died.
A bit disheveled and smudged.
but still somehow trying
clinging to the edge of the pool.
afraid to let go."

I've paraphrased and embellished a bit...but the bones are vintage, and still true. Though now, I know I look nothing like Marilyn, and realize the resemblance was mostly in the smudges.

Emotions I am not comfortable with, are anger, lust, and hate. They are hard for me to verbalize, without acting, or editing. I feel all these things, but like Neil, i keep them private. It's good to recognize this. I'm not sure I will ever change this. But knowledge is power, right?
I've often heard that depression is rage turned inward. That would explain the melancholy.

Now on to the Poem. Since I'm in a Marilyn state of mind...I'll conjure a conversation they might have had...

Mr. President

(why don't you love me?)
Aren't you a bad boy!
sending your brother
(your beautiful baby brother)
to do your dirty work."

No matter really.
With my eyes closed
or on my hands and knees
you all look the same.

(Theres not a one
who's managed to
be different
so far.)

You both hold on
you both grab at
the same places
and bruise my breast.

You both smell the same
move the same
taste the same
sigh the same.

Still, one of you laughs
and the other does not.

One of you tells me to
fix my face, and close my legs.
The other smooths my hair
pats my tummy.
kisses my nipple
whispers my name.

One of you showers
The other does not.

But both of...
"You will remember

Won't you?"

wlf 8:28

Nice to be back. Poetry Thursday feels like home...Now say it with me..."There's no place like home...."


posted by wendy at 7:46 AM 17 comments

Wednesday, May 23, 2007

Guess What? I'm Late!

Typing this, I realized that this used to mean something totally different and much more ominous. But today I'm just late for work. In all other aspects, I am right on time. Although Michael did mention that he may like to "try for a boy" over the weekend. After picking myself up off the floor, I mentioned that he is home less than 48 hours a week...Men are just odd.

Only have time for a quick Kansas observation. Men in Kansas, who wear John Deer hats, actually have John Deer's. They wear them squarely on their heads, tilted up a bit so you can see their eyes, which are usually blue. Under the hats, are sun worn faces and greying short hair. I saw several of them touch the brim of their caps as they said Good Morning. And for once when they said Ma'am, I did not feel like slapping that terse young look off their faces. Instead, I studied their dying breed, dwindling in numbers daily, and wished I had just once, been with an older man.
posted by wendy at 8:31 AM 3 comments

Tuesday, May 22, 2007

Five Minute Post

A twenty hour drive gives one a lot of quiet time. I have a rambling mind. I have tried to work on stealth like concentration, but have yet to master this skill. During sex..even enjoyable sex, my mind may wander to cream cheese or penguins. Upon hearing a favorite song on the radio, I may impulsively switch channels, even though the best line is just beats away. I am restless by nature.

This is why I love the road...and stupid TV shows. I am easily hypnotized. In this semi-conscious state, my mind slows. I read and listen to one thought at a time. Moments of no thought are rare, but if they do come, are much appreciated.

In Kansas, I filled up at a gas station, went in to pee...and came out and everything was in techi color..Just like the Wizard of OZ. I had only traveled one state away. From my country bumpin city of Parker... to towns which made Parker seem like fast times and bright lights.

I realized I know really only one type of person. Perhaps one class of people. As I drove I-70..along the spine of the country...I decided I would open my eyes and gather what I could from my fellow Americans. All the varied species.

Even when I wasn't in Kansas any more.....
posted by wendy at 8:17 AM 4 comments

Sunday, May 20, 2007

Home Again, Home Again........

People may think the idea of a grown woman taking a trip a cross the country, pulling along a horse in a trailor for company...otherwise alone..a little daft. And perhaps it is.

Yet it is in my return home, that the insanity seems to have settled in. Some distance is needed to gain perspective. Perspective can be shocking, jarring and permanent. Impossible to recant. Like unbreaking an egg, or unringing a bell.
posted by wendy at 12:41 PM 4 comments

Saturday, May 05, 2007

The Big One

It's been one year of blogging..

To repeat my high school quote..

"What a long, strange trip it's been."

Thanks for tagging along for the ride!
posted by wendy at 6:38 PM 9 comments

Thursday, May 03, 2007

As You Like It...For Poetry Thursday

The blog world is a strange place. When I came here, almost a year ago,I thought I would be writing to myself, my muse, and the air. I certainly thought I would be the only one listening. It would be like confessing in a cave. My thoughts and dreams and fears and desires bouncing off dark walls that define the boundaries of my life. Unseen by me, I know they are there,returning my thoughts, echoed back to my own ears, so I can hear them out loud. Perhaps, gain some perspective.

I hadn't thought of other caves. I hadn't thought of other explorers, shouting into their own dark voids. Until I heard the echos of other voices, not my own. I've always been a cheeky curious gal..so I sorta started ease dropping. Then I sort of started talking to the voices. Finally I my eyes adjusted..and I could make out the faces of all of you, sitting with me in the dark.

At first, I thought this meant that I could not confess anymore. I am not as brave as others. When I saw you out there, I really just wanted to check my makeup, straighten my hair, and make a good impression.

But then I noticed that I still heard the same voices, confessing the same fears and hopes and worries, whether I was listening or not. I realized I had found a brave new world. So I continued on, trying to be honest. Sometimes I have to close my eyes, and try to forget anyone else is here with me. I came here for a reason..I had better get on with it.

Something else happened too, along the way. I started wanting to reach out and hold a hand of someone who was struggling. I wanted them to know I was there. They were not alone. In the middle of my crazy rants...I was still listening. I had started to care.

I now, will always care. About strangers. About people I have never met. About people who have taught me once and for all...That we are all in this together.

Today's prompt...was a free day. Address what needs to be addressed.

So this one is for all of you...


There is a thin fiber.
So thin I can not feel it
(like an eyelash on my cheek)

that trembles when you cry
or when you worry in the night.
When you toss

I turn, with restlessness
I can not explain.
They say 21 grams

is the weight of a soul.
And when we die
we are left heavy bones, yet

lighter by more than mere air.
How stupid, they measure
this only in passing.

For many times, I am sure
during my waking and living,
those 21 grams were gone from me.

Off to be carried by some other.
I was too weak to carry my own.
So, burdened their loads with

just a bit more.
but now I have a strong
back. I offer my shoulder

my spine and my sinew.
I will tuck your problems
in with mine, I will carry

you with me.
Up and over the hill
just beyond this point.

I will carry you to the crest.
For together, we all must
face what lies beyond.

wlf 8:46

Want A Piggy back ride over to Poetry Thursday?...Hop on.........


posted by wendy at 8:10 AM 21 comments

Wednesday, May 02, 2007


This morning I watched a segment on the Today show. It was on a new group of parents that refuse to change because of their kids. They still dress the same, have the same interests, and the same tastes as pre baby.

Meredith questioned whether this was hip...or just selfish. This is a really complex question.

Being a mom has changed me profoundly...and not at all. Michael and I were very carefree younger parents. Rach used to fly along the LA freeways with me in a convert CJ5 jeep..Michael's first car.(He restored it himself..very souped up.)

I remember one trip we all took...to the Fallbrook area, down by San Diego. At that time we dreamed of having an avocado farm. We off roaded all over the hills of Fallbrook. Michael and I have always been drawn to country roads. We went where no roads existed..through streams, Rachel bouncing along in her car seat. It was a great So Cal day.

We kinda lost track of time...and it got a bit late..and a bit chilly...So we cuddled Rach into her jacket..and popped her inside a PILLOWCASE for extra warmth. That's right..a pillowcase!

I was never very prepared...but my kids didn't seem to suffer. I was just me..with kids. Never got caught up with diaper bags and designer prams. I've never had a mini van...or dressed like a mom either. But those things are just an aside..and have nothing, or very little to do with BEING a mom.

I always had things,other than my kids, that I love. Since having my kids, I have spent hours gardening, in darkrooms and on photo shoots,and on horseback. I did none of those things before I was a mom. I never stopped having new loves because I had been blessed with my daughters. I have never stopped changing. I have never growing, becoming. I hope I never stop.

I hope my daughters will learn by my example. The best gift, I believe, we give to our children, is showing them how to live our authentic flawed messy perfect lives.

If that makes me selfish....so be it.
posted by wendy at 8:22 AM 4 comments