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

Before I address the topic....I'd like to introduce you to my date to yesterday's wedding....Sad thing, at the end of the evening..we both agreed, this had been one of the more enjoyable dates of our lives...bad dates..shudder!!! But I don't have to deal with it anymore THANK THE LORD GOD ON HIGH!!!..But alas, not so for the other party...I wish her godspeed through the hell trap called single life....



Boy, was I all over her like a cheap suit or what??? I plied her with alcohol all night too!! That's what happens when Michael leaves me to my own devices..and goes on a business trip to Hawaii...instead of being my date!!Forgive me glowing so much..I danced my little tootsies off. Weddings, after all, are for celebrating..N'est-ce pas??

Now to the prompt for this week Phenomena..


A Cautionary Tale

If not for email and cell phones, I may never actually speak to my husband. We live in the modern world of airplanes, tight schedules, and hands off communication. I remember a day when "Face Time" was not yet a phrase coined in our conscious vocabulary. But now face time is a valued commodity. My husband and I had exactly 11 hours of face time together between Friday night and his early 6am departure Saturday morning.

Or at least that is what he thought. He arrived, quickly taught my daughter Rach to parallel park, for her driving test, got some dinner, got reacquainted with his wife..and gave the dogs some love. Unpacked from Winnipeg..repacked for Honolulu..and called it a night.

At 2:30am the phone rang. We have no phone in our bedroom...but, being the ever light insomniac sleeper I am....I heard it on the first ring. Dashing down the stairs..groggy and dreadful...a chirpy voice told me that Michael first connection..Denver to San Fransisco, had been cancelled. He had been re booked from a 6AM to a 11:48 departure...still getting him into Honolulu on Saturday...so he could do his team "pep assembly" meeting, before the real meeting with the VIPS on Monday. I take all this down in some sort of scrawl, and head upstairs to wake Michael. Not an easy task.

Flash forward 30 minutes..he finally gets what I am trying to tell him..resets the alarm...and as we drift back to sleep... he sits bolt upright in bed and shouts "I have to call the driver." OK...sleep is now far,far away. uggh.

Flash forward 4 hours... He rouses me out of bed to be "the driver". I am slow and try very hard not to snarl. He tells me he can't check in on line..because of the cancellation. We have to leave earlier than usual. He's in a bit of a rush.. but he might have 5 or 10 extra minutes to spend some quality,"not asleep" in the bedroom. I try not to roar..with laughter...

Flash forward, to the drive to the airport. We are holding hands, chatting for just a bit, when I notice all the color has drained from his face. I immediately know what is wrong as his hand dropped mine and goes for his waist.

HE HAS FORGOTTEN HIS BLACKBERRY devil's spawn instrument. Panic is full on him. Withdrawal is just a few seconds behind. He is todays modern captain of industry. Always balls up in the air, juggling. But now I fear, he feels he's been kicked in a different set of ..balls.

I thought he was going to cry. Honest. He was so tired from travel...going back to travel some more. And now, he had forgotten his life line. My husband does not swear often, but when he does, I know he is about to lose it.

I talked as fast as I could, in that come down off the ledge tone, I've mastered over the years. I reminded him that tomorrow was only Sunday...and that I would Fed Ex him the phone. It would get there on Monday..and Hawaii is way behind the rest of the country in time zones...so he would be OK..Everything would be OK. As we pulled up to the drop off zone at DIA...his eyes had cleared, and his breath was not as shallow as it had been. I pulled his brief case out of the trunk, and said "See, you still have you lap top Honey!!" He laughed, finally, kissed me goodbye..and as he left I shouted to him...

"You'll be going into rehab, when you get home. I'll speak to you boss about a leave of absence."

He did not dare turn around as he waved me off...but I know..HE KNOWS.. I am so right.

Let's see what others think is the latest rage..over at Sunday Scribblings

Last night, I took my girls to the first night..as in first night ever of the new Disney musical..Little Mermaid. The gal who plays Ariel, is a Colorado native, so they have decided to do the pre-broadway run in Denver.

First audience they had ever had, last night. Cool. I took Rachel to see the movie when she was less than a year old. When I looked to the stage during the curtain call..I saw tears in Ariel's eyes.

There were tears in mine, also...just tears of time passing...mixed with tears of joy.

They got a standing "O". and they all deserved it..(even me!!)

I'm feeling especially free this fine morning!! I'd give each and every one of you a big kiss.


Untied


Did you learn to tie
bows with bunny ears?

small fingers
crude loops
turned just so
tugged just right

making
magic knots
freeing you from
big hands taking
control of your feet
being told
to hold still.

I have remained
that stubborn child
with knot
upon knot
wanting not
knowing not

I have knelt
holding myself still
for years
in contorted
crouches of effort.

To tie and undo
what I have tried
so hard to secure.
I have laced it,
closed it so tight
safely binding it
for fear
of tripping.
or falling.
or feeling
unsteady on
unbalanced
feet.


But now I want to move.
Now I want to kick
off my shoes and
never ever
stoop again.

If I fall,
I fall.
I will tumble
loose and alive.
Just let me go down
laughing,
unafraid
and untied.

wlf 10:44am

It's poetry thursday.. Come on people...Move it...I HAVE NOT GOT ALL DAY!!

Labels: Poetry Thursday

I good horsey gal pal of mine is getting married on Saturday. She just graduated this year from a liberal arts college in VA. She is all of 22.

People were shocked. We all know the groom very well. He's older..perhaps 32. Very nice guy. I was never shocked. When the mom and I were talking about it, she expressed the usual concerns and worries. Only natural.

I just said "The heart wants what the heart wants."

But...she would say. "But, nothing." I would say back.

The bride registered at the usual ho hum stores for her gift...and for the shower I was a good girl and bought her a cutting board and a cookbook. Very practical, just like her.

But I wanted to buy them something beautiful and frivolous for their wedding. So up to Boulder I went. Mecca to the beautiful and frivolous..with a bit of an altered twist.

Let me tell you, buying practical is much easier. Get the pc of paper. Read the pc of paper. Purchase one blender or humungo cheese grater. Done.

Instead I bought them art for their wall. It is a sculpture of sorts.

Two small blue-grey starlings, hand carved of wood. Sitting near, yet not to near, on a barbed while fence. It's about 2 feet long.

They are just sitting there, enjoying the view, avoiding the barbs, sharing this moment of their lives. Perfect.

In September, I am attending a totally different kind of wedding. These two are in their late 30's. Both never been married. Both work..in..war. OK, That is not fair.

My husband's cousin..a stunningly dashing ex Marine officer....works in guns. Gives me the creeps.

His soon to be wife, works in Washington as a procurement agent for some division of the service. You decide what she is procuring. I'm hoping it's hot coco and Graham crackers.

The wedding will be in..of course, TEXAS.

I think for them, I will buy a stapler, to keep my mouth shut. Perfect.

You must watch this.

Thank you, oh, thank you to January, of Poet Mom fame....for being ever the one with impeccable taste.

In a casual conversation with some horsey friends, some one used the platitude..."Ignorance is bliss." To which I retorted.."But knowledge is power."

I woke up this morning with these questions in my head. I had been dreaming that I could not find my way out of my garage. We had moved to yet another new house..and there were packing boxes everywhere. But I couldn't even start on those because I was stuck in the garage. I had lost my bearings. No sense of direction.

Zoey licked me in the face, telling me to (finally please) get my ass out of bed. In those first hazy moments..feet to carpet, carpet to tile..tile to bathroom, the above questions started their loop in my brain.

I've been on a truth hunt lately. Starting to face some things I'd rather not. Some things that are no doubt, tucked in those "moving boxes" I keep toting along with me.

I'm at the age that I'm starting to crave power. Not a male power..ie control and conquer..but a feminine power.The power that comes in knowing what is true, and what is fable.I think this is because my kids are growing up and gonna need some real advice soon. I want to tell them the truth. So I need to find it and dust it off.

I good friend is getting married this Saturday. She is just out of college, and young in many ways for her age. She is BLISS personified right now. She is intoxicating. Her dreams are about to come true, in a lovely ivory strapless number, with a small tasteful tiara on top.

She hasn't a clue,and that is a good, good thing. I told her, I would be there to help if she ever needed some advice. I am officially old enough to be her mother. But I'm not. I'm her friend. So, when she comes to me, that first time the yoke of marriage feels a bit to snug, I'd like to have the knowledge to loosen her worries a bit. Help her mourn the loss of bliss.

I just can't decide if I can truly back that line of thinking...that one cancels the other.

Knowledge or Bliss?? Which would you pick?

A small, true tale from my odd quirky life.

This past Christmas, I bought my family tickets to Wicked. I also bought my in laws tickets. We planned to fly them from LA to Denver and make a night of it. I was very proud of myself, giving great pats on the back. In law's are hard people to spoil...and I was sure I had nailed this one.




I was wrong. We took a limo to dinner...I think they liked that. We don't usually roll that way. But,as we have no car that 6 people can fit in,it just made sense. Plus it was fun, and my kids have never been in a limo. (I have never had, never will have a mini van..or some such. If you do..I'm not judging. It's just not me.)
I think my mother in law was appalled at my girls behavior in the limo. Typical teenage fashionista stuff.









I think they liked dinner. A good old fashioned steak house in Denver..posh, leather, and old mogul-y.

Things went down hill after that. The curtain went up at eight. I hadn't figured this would be too late for them....and I am sure if they were court side for the Sonics... they would have stayed awake. But, as this was not the Sonic's..they drifted in and out of sleep during the whole first act, really with in the first five minutes.. I tried to ignore this as I watched this marvelous play. But inside I seethed.This is a seriously SOLD OUT show folks. urrrrrrghh.

During intermission, the real problem was revealed. They could not understand why the writers had messed with the story of The Wizard of Oz. The whole plot was freaking them out. Good was good. Bad was Bad. Period. As far as they were concerned,they could of had one short ditty with cute flying monkeys, happy happy Glinda...dead dead wicked witch. The End. Curtain down. Applause.

When I get angry at my husband, for his lack of nuance, (for he didn't really get it either...)I have to remember how he was raised. By really good caring Auntie Em types..and Wizards who are honest and pure of intention. I love my in laws but they are not deeply philosophical people. Just the bullet points please, and for God's sake, stay in the lines!

So going into the final act, I simply forgot they were there.I willed them very far away. I sat with my two daughter, who just like me, were on the edge of there seats, tears in their eyes. I had passed a little of me on to them.

In the unseen battle of the genes, my girls were born with eyes that have a keen perception for subtleties and shades.I breathed a sigh of relief, as I left my husband and his family back in Kansas,and had one Fine Night in the Emerald City with my girls.

We had a truly Wicked time.

Follow the yellow brick road over to Sunday Scribblings

Pepek poses a question over at her blog...I think she was asked by Rob.....What do you do to court your muse? If you've read my blog for long..you'll know I have written on this subject often. I went back to re-read some of my thoughts...and found my first entry about him the most honest

Go here to read.

As in everything..."I spoke some version of the truth". Love that Nicholson line from Somethings Gotta Give.

There are things I left out. Out of decorum, out of respect for privacy..ok.. I left them out because I am a chicken. I have thought REALLY HARD about why this man is my muse. It troubles me. It makes me think I'm turning into a stalker. But all along I have known the truth.

And here is the truth.

I read his journal once. It was a BAD HORRIBLE thing to do. I would not, could not do it now. But I was a stupid selfish, cowardly girl, for a very long time. So I did it, while he was down in the basement chanting voo doo spells with his fraternity brothers.

I wanted to read how he loved me, adored me, craved me. And there was some of that. But then there was this..."I DISGUSTED him." Yep. Disgusted. That word catches in my throat even now. Did I leave him?? Did I tell him to go f**k himself for a while and see how that worked for him??

Nope. I tucked his journal back,and probably loved him even more.

You see, I have always loved and disgusted myself. For various reasons. I was, from that moment on, attached to him...I had found the one person who openly confessed he felt the same way.I was so curious to know (and still am..) just which of the many things digusted him, and which he lusted for. I was hooked. He continued a lover for a while after that...Then he was a non issue,for many many years. Someone tucked deep under layers of scaring and self delusion.

But when he came back as a muse, he came back with a vengeance. He carries just the right whip to spark a welt that aches to scratched, bringing the dirty, unsavory contortions of me the the surface. He makes me write. He brings forth ever unquenchable thirst for redemption and acceptance. I look and gather and reflect and confess. My work is nothing more than me crying out into the dark..to the person who may have known me best, the loathable and loveable.. the horrible, lovely all of me. I cry to the person he was, the boy he was, who judged me so harshly, and cherished me still, in spite of himself.

I come to that person, when my cup is empty and my throat is dry. I promise to swallow whatever he offers..bitter or sweet, and let it work it's way down to my murky deepest darkest places.

Touring a small part...ok, a very microscopic part of the south, on vacation was fascinating for me. There is a sinister graciousness to the cities I visited.

The people are certainly more graceful, more lyric than I. But a beautiful lace doily or a wonderful berry souffle can only distract, not hide.

Our tour guide at the Magnolia Plantation, spoke in barely veiled disgust of the union soldiers who burn the plantation house to the ground. It was a shame to lose all that history. True enough. But humans are more valuable than Chippendale furniture, and bone china.

The tram guide said very little about the civil war. Just this. That her grandmother, a very gentile and proper southern woman, only referred to that time as " the unseemly and distasteful unpleasantness with those others."

We drove by the slave quarters..and witnessed the acres and acres of trenches dug by the slaves to irrigate and drain the rice fields. Rice gave slaves enough energy to work to build the many mansions and prosperous cities. Life was considered a fringe benefit for them. While I suppose, wealth was considered a right for others.

Still, through all of the human treachery and turmoil, nature hangs simply unchecked, everywhere. Thriving in the moist air, fed by the wind. Carried by the rivers,to the great untouchables, the unknowables..where humans are but a brief distraction.


Magnolia Plantation

My eyes close.
It is Eden.

So many scents
mixing to form
Ambrosia
Where all
gives all
Surrendering
self to be
here and part
of this.
A sum better
than it's parts.

The breeze
carries moss
to trees
adorning creation
with ribbons
wrapping beauty
in finishing detail.

My eyes open.
A tomb where lays
the first master
of this land,
though I am unsure
who made him so.

A good steward
it seems,
if measured by
one yardstick.

Gardens still
are ripe with
more abundant
fullness than
these banks
can contain.

This tomb,
a white mans tomb,
bears round granite
cherubs who look
serenly skyward .

Yet one is
missing his nose.
Shot clean off
by a soldier
with gun in one hand
and torch in another.

Taken in passing
I imagine,
as he stormed
up soft garden paths
to burn at
seats of power.

To pile new bones
on the old bones.

I fear he felt
no emancipation
coming that moist night.

He was just
a messenger.
There to tell
of a new
masta in town.

As wild winds rage
fueled by flames below,
the moss gently fled
from tree to tree.
To find a place
of peace high
in oaks
untouched
unchanged
and unafraid.

wlf

Off to Poetry Thursday.....

Labels: Poetry Thursday

I had Satan for a dentist as a child. A REALLY BAD DUDE. Uses his elbow to keep me still in the chair. Yikes..Shivers 35 years later.

My new dentist is a saint. A sexy saint at that. He used to have a short beard and I was very smitten. Now, he has shaved it.. but I still find him yummy. He is the kindest man I have ever met. He makes me comfortable. Hence the drugs. Valium to sleep the night before. Nitros to make time float by on the back of pretty pink unicorns.

And for my root canal, a few weeks ago...a nifty new drug, Halycon...ie THE MIND ERASER...was unreal. Root canal???? I think I had one..really can't remember! LOVE that!

He also flattered me into braces....and told me I could make a living in Hollywood. So whats not to love! No wonder I have proposed to him several times, under the influence...

Unfortunately he's married...and so am I. I've confessed this little crush to my husband. His answer was vintage Michael.

"You should marry him. You'd sure save a hell of a lot of money...I could be your boy toy on the side."

Huh...now that's something to think about.....

Beach resorts make for very interesting people watching. I am fascinated by people bodies and their attitudes about them. Far more women cover themselves. Men seem to care a little less about who is looking at what. Men's swimwear is functional. Women's swimwear is delusional. There. I said it. The normal woman, can not pull off what the designers give us to wear. My days of bikinis are over.

Other women...with bodies of all different shapes and sizes, must feel differently. This really intrigues me. Not in a judgemental catty way. In a envious way. I wonder what I am lacking, when I feel the need to cover every flaw I have. Believe me if I could have walked backwards into the ocean and pool without tripping...and ending up spread eagle on the sand....I would have. I am constantly tugging, shielding and draping.

Others strut. Uncovered. Un saronged. Unashamed. I watch them walk from behind my sunglasses and admire them in their bold imperfection. They are blooming like brilliant island flowers, while I am caught in my neurotic narcissistic self grooming cycle. Constantly pruning the new growth. Constantly picking at bumps that may have become buds, that may have been beauty.

MODEST BONDAGE

It is so hot,even threads
are a burden. My skin yearns
to be free of it's slight cage.

The smallest tug of my fingers
would undo this cleated slavery.
I could slip the knot, escape

this thin fortress. My hands
are so close, I can feel
their heat on my neck.



wlf

Well, Happy Poetry Thursday everyone!

Labels: Poetry Thursday

Vacations are odd little microcosms of life. Like going to a different wing of the human zoo we call Earth.

The first stop for us was South Carolina. I don't have much experience south of the Mason Dixon line, so this was very enjoyable for me. Only had two days though...so only scratched the surface...really not even a scratch.

Then on to the Bahamas. July in Grand Bahama is HOTTTT Hot hot hottie hot! and wet...My favorite memory...swimming..(ok wading...)with the dolphins. This was very cool. However, the best part was the native Bahamian?? naturalist...
(We were in the Bahamas with Michael's company. I call it a yada yada trip...Sales excellence blah blah,...whatever. I just heard "FREE TRIP TO THE BAHAMAS". )

Anywho..(had dinner with a couple from Minnesota....)the dolphin lady...had never heard of my husbands company.Michael and his fellow compatriots were SHOCKED!!! really stunned! She had us do a cheer for the dolphins.Dolphins, as it uurns out, are party animals.They love excitement. She boldy attempted to rally the troops of some unknown county with a.....

"Give me an O...R...A...C....L...E....S....What does that spell???"

"Oracles????" was the sheepish response she and the dolphins heard. The dolphins were not impressed. I was MUCH amused. I will ask Michael how work was at Oracles from now on. He uses the term Big Gorilla often to describe "market share". More like little itty bitty sand flea..in the Bahamas.


The dolphin lady also explained how to take dolphins for a walk. Seems they open the gates to their cove...(yes, it a real cove..not a pool or a prison)..and the dolphins follow the trainers' boat out into the Caribbean. No leashes. Just trust...They visit different beaches and deep water sights. The dolphins are free to leave. She said they rarely do. But every once in a while, some get a hankering to go sightseeing...so off they go.

"Never fails....", she finished.."in a couple of days....we find them calling at the front gate, hung over and pregnant....wantin to come back home."

Yep, there's no place like home!

I suppose that energy born in the same moments, in same seasons, could carry the same imprints. Think of the universe, as a breathing being inhaling and exhaling with rhythmic force, leaving traceable makings on those that share the same breath of birth. The thought that the seasons could alter the pace of breath, the pace of creation. This is a romantic notion. Very attractive to me. Yet still very suspect.

So in saying this, I prove I am wholly the sign I was born under...LIBRA.
I am famous for arguing both sides of a point. I am driven to find balance, and justice. I am often exhausted by this pursuit.

We Librarians...are often pictures as serenely balanced. But this is not so with me. I am constantly adjusting the scales, taking here, to give more there. Like standing on a balancing ball, every once in a while you find the sweet spot...and bliss is yours..for a nano second. But then it's back to the work, or PRACTICE, of balance.

Others, may eventually get off the ball..realizing that it requires too much concentration and effort. True Libras are addicted to the quest for balance and live for moments of true ease.

I read many profiles of Libras this morning, and was really amazed to see how right on the mark they are for me...But in the spirit of fairness, I can see why the head could lead you away from such poppycock...

(You better go on to Sunday Scribblings...this internal balancing dialog, could go on for quite a while!)