Tuesday, December 8, 2009

Well, shitfire and tarnation

Life is always just full of surprises, isn't it? When you think you might be making a little bit of progress, WHAM! You get knocked back 4 places and don't get to pass go or collect the 200.00 or any thing even remotely like it. I just have to ask myself what did I do to deserve all of this drama and suspense? I know I should be thankful for certain things, but dammit sometimes it's hard to be thankful when it seems like the shit is falling out of the sky directly on to your head. I keep wondering what can I do to turn this karma bus around?
I have been trying to play house in an insane asylum for a lot of years. I am most likely the head inmate, the Chief Broom of this facility, if you will.

It's like Ellen said, "What if we were really in an insane asylum, and you are my toast. I would be talking to my toast." It makes perfect sense to me now. It made sense then too, but I kind of forgot it somehow along the way. We used to say if you don't get all the crazy out now (as a teenager) you will be crazy when you grow up. Well, now we know, right? I guess I didn't laugh and get it all out when I was a kid, because I am crazy as a loon now.
But I have been driven here.

Ranting right along, I would like to say that this comedy/tragedy will come to an end one day. One day this old slobblogger won't be here to comfort her offspring, offer them sanctuary, loan them money or otherwise offer her services. What the hell will happen to them then? I guess they don't really worry about it, so why should I?
I do believe my heart is becoming stone. I have no emotional outbursts nothing surprises me anymore.
I can tread on eggshells and mostly do not break them. Is this a skill that I should be proud of?

My heart is heavy is leaden. My face feels like it is growing longer, my frown lines deeper, and I also suffer from terminal slum-pucker. My favorite thing to say used to be, "don't expect anything, and you won't be disappointed." Well, I should take my own advice, right?


Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Aloof, Adrift.
Pondering precedents
of quaking witches,
spells spoken aloud.
The stench of putrification
surrounds all, masking efforts
to wax normal.
We divine spontaneous combustion...
Rabid with needs and cringing.
Sinister, shadowed, unsafe
Awaken!! The day is no more

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

The games squirrels play

What a beautiful and brilliant fall day!

Is like the sun and the leaves and the sky are all competing in a beauty contest. So much darkness and rain has surrounded my life this year but a day like today makes everything else seem so washed out and distant.
I love the crisp air of fall and the atmosphere of an impending... something. It's like you are waiting, but you don't know what for. I have discovered in my ponderings and reading that Autumn is when you say goodbye to the sun, prepare for the cold long dark winter and look forward to the greening of the earth and the new life of spring. So I guess we are waiting for the return of spring...I don't know for sure what it is, but I like it.
My friend Ellen and I used to call this "running away weather" because we would always plot our escape in the fall. And if we did run off, it was always in Autumn. Once we "ran away" on her minibike and was carrying my dog moon on the small scooter as well as my bag of clothes and treasures. A motorcycle cop stopped us for riding triple on a scooter, without helmets, going the wrong way on a public street. In fact, he said, we were breaking about 562 laws but he would let us go if we promised to go home. Ok, we said and tottered on our way, still laughting about it 40 years later. We were not scared at all, and we kept asking him did "he see Evil Kinevil jump all those buses on TV last nite".
I think we might have made his day. I am not making this up.

I love to walk along, kicking up leaves and crunching on the fallen pecans and acorns abandoned by the hyperexcited squirrels as they run to and fro getting everything ready for winter. Right now they are all fat and wild for nuts, dashing into the street without a clue as to what might be barrelling down on them. I always thought birds and squirrels played a game to see which group could get closest to a car without getting slammed by it. You know how birds dive bomb cars and squirrels dash out in front of your car? I imagine they have a point system, rules and keeping score and everything.
Birds and squirrels.

Sitting here thinking of birds and squirrels and leaves, I have an urge to write something poetic.
But I will restrain myself because I think I might be wearing out my poetic muse, and I might need to switch up and write something fiction-ish.
I have put off this children's book forever, and now might be the right time. My ten year old editor is living with me now and she is my best and worst critic. She has a fine eye for a story. I'm glad shes here. She is very light hearted and I need some light hearted-ness in my life. I hate that I have to enforce things such as homework, but oh well. We all had it. It has always sucked.

I also think about cooking soup alot on these fall evenings. Soups I would never even eat, like cold pumpkin soup or clam chowder. What's that about?

My newest obsession is eating ice. I can crunch through a Mickey D's sweet tea in 3o minutes flat. I suck up the tea then commence to chowing down on the thin glass like shards of ice mixed with sugar flavor until my teeth and mouth freeze up or Im done. Which ever comes first. And if my mouth freezes up, well I just wait until i get feeling back in it and then im at it again.

I have also developed a bad starbucks pumpkin spice latte habit. 360 calories folks. Everyday. So now I have to quit that, also my tea at McD's. That is about 300 cals too. That's alot of empty calories, folks.

Anyway, I just wanted to show ya'll I'm still alive and kicking in Memphis Tn and not dead after all.

Peace out.
Deb in Memphrica

Friday, October 23, 2009

Visceral Discomfort

When the low notes flowed
from your soul
into the smelly brass.
Swaying, breathing
liquid brown eyes
closed in rapture.
Fingers reaching
for keys,
eyes fixed on me;
always waiting for
the encore.

Summer's End

Air, crisp like the first bite
of a new harvest apple
whiffs of smoke from
a distant fire
A wispy memory of something primal,
Smells like running away weather.

Flat sound of endless water
on pavement
the old timers say
"like a cow pissing on a flat rock".
Wetness like a woman's promise,
for new life in the spring.

Darker earlier,
days grown short.
Later longer.
Green turns gray
Light creeps away
before the end of the day.
And in the endless night
any ray of light
seems so bright.

Night lingers
with cold clammy fingers,
stirs old fears and dread
and sleep, as if dead.

Saturday, October 17, 2009

An Ode, and an update..

Watch for a new segment of blogginess soon. I finally have that great camera phone to capture the unsuspecting Memphricans and plan to add to the human interest story, along with our Philidelphia photo fiend, Lora of "Fever", "Oh the Urbanity" and "Jakezilla", whose brainchild this is.

The link is Memphisurbanity.blogspot.com. We will be exploring Memphis on a whole new never seen before light.

So, watch for it.

The writing has been slow, my grand children has taken all of my free time. But I am slowly coming back. Hopefully I still have an audience..

So until then I leave you with a parting gift:

Ode to Kippl-ishious Kit kat kipper

Ever was there a story written,
Of love in a 20 pound package?
With stripe-ity fur pajamas
white footies on front feet
Knee socks in the back.
Explosion of furfat belly
And big pink nipples
Eyes like an owl.
All catittude
except those emabarrassing times
when shes caught
rolling in dogfur tumbleweeds
or scooped up by the humangirl
who hunts her down to cuddle.

Monday, September 14, 2009

In the Silence.

In the silence, I can hear
whirrings of the gear
that is sort-of around my ears.

In the silence, I don't see
how anyone can't see thru me
and see the urgent need to flee.

In the silence, no chaos here
the existence of nothing to fear;
maybe is why i feel so queer.

In the silence, a pulse rings
thru my head and sings;
making me imagine things.

In the silence, seeking noise
joys and different toys.
It's the silence that annoys.

Monday, September 7, 2009


I have been catching up on my Blog Reading and trying to getting back in the swing of writing again. My writing seems to be turning the corner, I seem to be coming out of the very dark place that I found myself in for so long, and I am very happy about that. Lots of good stuff going on.

I am very excited about an upcoming event here in Memphis that I am proud to be a part of. Our writing group, The Memphis Writers Ensemble spearheaded by a wonderful woman named Valentine is going to have a booth at one of our local festivals, this year. The booth will feature a different writer every hour or so and if you would like a poem written about you, or a photo, or an animal or a baby or whatever you have with you, for $5.00 a little piece will be created for you on the spot, handed over and the money goes to a local charity. It seems like a good way to spend time with my co-writers and it will be very spontaneous writing. I wonder what It will feel like to give away my creative bites of spontaneity? I hope I can let them go easily. I get rather attached to my oh-so-random thoughts.

Speaking of random thoughts, I subscribe to a blog produced by a man who has advancing Alzheimers and his blog is fascinating to me. You may have heard of him If you watched HBO's special about Alzheimers disease. His name is Joe Pocotny and his blog is Living with Alzheimers here on blogspot. I believe he is very brave to get online and blog about what is happening to him on a daily basis. Some days he sits in front of the screen and can't remember how to turn on his computer. He has post it notes all around. He wonders when he will forget how to read his notes. Most of the time he is mellow and funny, but alot of the time he is very colorful and forthright in his anger of the toll his disease has taken. He is a very intelligent man and it shine thru his blog. Go check him out, he loves company. Joe's blog is awesum.
Some days I wonder If that is where I am headed. Some days I feel like there are blank spots in there, or a short circuit. People tell me thats normalwith age and stress, but I think Im pretty aware of it when it happens and its very uncomfortable. It makes you feel inadequate in some ways. Like when people catch you forgetting something, they think ahhhhhh....shes getting senile. I don't know. Maybe I am.
I did my share of partying a few short decades ago. Maybe I damaged my brain smoking all that pot. It's been a long time but I could maybe be a test subject for a new age propaganda film, "THE DANGERS OF SMOKING POT AND LONG TERM EFFECTS"
It's no secret I was a smoker, everyone who knows me knows it. But what they don't know, perhaps is that I never really liked it. It made me nervous and jittery and never all calm and laid back, like everyone else. And I don't know why I did it for so long. So don't ask.

Another blog I totally enjoy is one called Oh the Urbanity! by a cute little gal named Lora. I started out reading her Jakezilla blog and shes so funny and entertaining I naturally gravitated over to her other blog, a photoblog called, Oh The Urbanity.
What she does is she walks around town with her really good cell phone camera, and snaps pix of such random and interesting things, that every day I can't wait to go see what she has posted. One thing I have noticed, in her town of Philadelphia, is that the people there tend to wear entire ensembles of matching colors. For instance one lady was wearing a orange Fru Fru dress, orange head band, orange flip flops, orange bag, and the whole thing was orange. Kind of an orange sherbet orange.
She captures all sorts of interesting signs, and transvestites, and bicycles with additions such as a double fan apparatus across the handle bars.
She is encouraging me to start an Urbanity blog for my fair Memphrica...
I have one photo already I snapped while in line at the post office, but I felt so obvious and i felt like the people behind me were watching me take a picture of this lady who was dressed hideously. Our photojournalist Lora is a professional and can do it while everyone around her thinks she is texting, but she's probably taking your photo. Especially if you are dressed weird.
Go check her out. Oh the Urbanity! on blogspot.

More to come............
My first attempt at COVERT BLOG REPORTING on why fat girls should not wear ? bikini unders or maybe a thong thing.

I, myself, am a fat girl.

Luv yall

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

Light and Still-life

littered with debris.
Stickyspots start out as
spilled sweet-tea
drips and slops.
Conscience crumbs
collect on countertops.

Doghair tumbleweeds roll in;
gathering in corners, then
join together to make small dogs.
Organic brew in rubbermaid bin
Oldflys die of natural causes.
Time moves on and pauses...

Darkness dusty
with shades pulled down
no one is at home,
echoes are the only sound.
A heart like a stone,
Jaded and cynical
to the bone.

Light leaks in, lights up
fairy-dust webs dancing on air.
Pinpoints of tiny lights
illuminate the pall of night.
Now, arising from deep slumber
dreaming; dreading the thunder.
The light offers a ray,
a surge of courage.
a thing to hold to;
cling onto today
keep the night at bay.

Ancient crone with ancient broom
awakens, drunk with the light.
Gathers her mirth and
garners her might,
and battles the drudge
of the dreaded drama
from this tomb of gloom
allowing in the light.

Monday, August 17, 2009

Delicious chocolate candy

Can I just say I love M&M's? What is it about those little jewels of chocolate? It is definitely my favorite candy, that's for sure for sure.
I love the plain ones, but peanut will do if I need a shot of protein. That hard little shell is like a little clay pot in my mouth. It cooks the chocolate to just the right softness right before it collapses with a papery pop that only a thin candy shell can pop like.
Melts in your mouth, not in your hand.

Feeling the raised M with my tongue and squishing it between the roof of my mouth and rolling it between my teeth, feeling the little clicks like glass on glass.

Two, three, or six at a time, rarely ever just one. Matching is very important in M&M world, for instance 2 browns and 3 greens is a good combo, as well as blue and yellows.

Lay them out straight on a rolled up tongue, or pack your jaws full and suck the juice and squash the chocolate all over your cheeks and teeth. Then open your mouth and show your friends.

Of course you can always just sit them out prettily in a candy dish for decorationing. They look like lovely little buttons. But if I come by, beware, I will eat your pretty little buttons.

There is no such thing as a stale or old M&M.
If fact, when King Tut's tomb was opened, guess what they found in there? And that dude, Sir whateverhisnamewas....swiped them right out of that sarcophagus, and ate them before any photos were taken. He couldn't help himself because he, too, was an M&M junkie.
Not many people know that.

There was also M&M's found in the Aztec catacombs...apparently used as trail markers, but were so small and hard to see in the dark, that the poor Aztecs got lost and ended up in the jungles of Ixiltan and became Mexicans.

But I digress.

I bet there are even some M&M's on Mars. Oh, wait. Mars MAKES them...

Thursday, August 6, 2009

Making my way forward.

Ok People..
I know.
I have done what I said I would not do, and made too many references to morose and negativity and disappointments in my life, when this blog was supposed to be fun and an escape from the realities of life. But alas, drama and woe is part of me, part of who I am and what I am becoming. Ying and yang. Positive and negative. Black and white. Right and wrong, yes and no.
I could go on all day in this vein, but I will spare you this untested philosophy and justification of the situation in the nation of Deb.

On and on it goes. Round and round like a circle dance. Occasionally I have to dance in the middle. And, I don't much like it.

So here we are back at the keyboard, mending, healing, re-creating myself yet again to fit the needs of those around me, wanting to become a real person.
Molding myself into motherhood when I should be folding into cronehood.

As someone once said: To everything there is a season.
I guess we never know what season is coming, so we adapt. And become.

I am not sure what the future holds for me, that's for sure, but I have learned some things about myself the last few years, and they are mostly good things.
One thing I have learned is I love to write stuff.
The bad part is I don't make enough time for it. Seems like everything else comes first.
That, for sure, needs to change.

Look for it...

Smootches..and back to work....

Deb the dragyonfly girl

Friday, July 17, 2009


God hath wrought a plaque upon me
Raging like a wind ripped fury
Tearing my heart up from all moorings
Flung about, contused and abraided,

Fevered with pain, a soul is bleeding
Bleeding to die, bleeding to live.
A pain I cannot feel, but mine
so constant a companion,

Beloved one so settled now,
Soon to be unquiet.
Beads to form
upon your brow
the yellow cast
of perfect skin
While the fire ants stir
your blood.

Slumber now my love!
All to soon you will arise
like a vampire.
Your cycles set to night
to walk with
the living dead;
A zombie yourself.
Shambling toward your victims
as they hold a green lifeblood
jingling in deep pockets.

Prick your flesh,
close your eyes
and it will go away.
For a day.

Wednesday, July 1, 2009


Cherubim hover
awaiting a moment
The heart's an empty house.
Waiting to be filled..
Needing; but knowing not what it needs.
Wanting; something unknown.
How can you miss what you do not know?

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Mother's Hands

These are my mother's hands,
old hands with blue ropey-roadmap veins
that other old nurses leer at, wantonly,
ready to insert a large gauge IV,
using no tourniquet.
Hands that flutter together like moths
when the urge to smoke intrudes.
Hands that are washed too much.
Hands with loose skin
like tissue paper
and weird brown spots.

Ten stubby fingers with nails,
too ugly to paint,
easily broken.
Just right to bite.
Hands decorated with 6 spinning
shiny rings,
too large for the spindly fingers
of a blooming old lady.

Hands with a life of their own
with their own ideas about things.
Reaching for babies
braiding long hair.
Stroking strange cats and dogs,
holding bristly insects and
the cool smooth skin of snakes.
Touching a brand new flat top haircut
and the smooth baby-soft skin
under my husband's beard.
Checking for fever, and pulses
Calming the fearful
the confused, the confined.
Reaching out
even when the rest of me doesn't want to.

Hands that have slapped and swatted
and spanked.
And stroked and sweated and clapped
and held on to other hands
trying to anchor us together
on this wild ride.

Hands that are in league
with the heads notion
of writing.
Not even concerned with
the continuous short circuiting
between them.
They sit ready over a white expanse of paper,
until the head produces a random firing of neurons
trying to regurgitate an original thought.

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Tornadoes and Burger King

Friday PM..one of the few times that I am actually completely alone at home, getting ready to go to work, while watching this red horseshoe shaped storm hurtle towards us on the doppler radar, Im thinking to myself, "I should have already left". My elderly dog who pretty much ignores me, was wrapped around my legs. Now, technically we should have had plenty of daylight left, but suddenly we were in the dark, as the electricity (predictably) went out. Our power goes out if you fart too loud.
So I gather up my candles and kerosene lamps and commence to looking for a lighter. In a house hold full of smokers, you would think lighters would be plentiful. This is not the case over here. You can never find one when you need it. Suddenly I notice the outside has turned a yellow-green color and the wind is howling, and my dog is looking up at me like, "Uh...can we like, take cover now?" So we head to what I like to think of as the center of the house, the bathroom. I sit on the toilet and hold my sage and citrus candle in the dark and Neelix, a fifty pound husky, is behind the toilet.
Now for you folks who don't live in Tornado alley, a yellow green atmosphere is never a good thing. Its not the actual sky. Its the air. Its what the world looks like right as the cold and warm fronts meet.
Hail is next and is pounding loudly on the metal awning as I waited impatiently for it to "blow over". Then a deep rumbling, thought something was just vibrating. So didn't worry about it.

Only later did I find out that that noise was a tornado going over my house. It picked up a tree around the corner and flung it into a house, ripped a branch off my tree and hurled it into my pool, bending the frame, but sparing our house.
It took a right turn and mowed over several utility poles at the corner and killed power in our neighborhood for several days.
It went a bout a mile and took a left and mowed down trees along a busy road in Bartlett.
I have heard Tornadoes referred to as "the finger of God" and I agree with that powerful statement. Just a touch and all is splinters.
I am grateful that we were not really affected, other than the slight bent frame of our pool and a few hours without power.

It seems like we are getting more tornadoes than usual lately. I guess it must be the global warming we are hearing so much about. Burger King here in Memphis was advertising on their signs that Global Warming is Baloney.
So I am done with Burger king. I really don't eat that crap anymore, but I'm especially done with them.

I guess everyone has a right to his opinion, and I have a right not to spend my money there.....It's all good.

Monday, June 8, 2009

We all live in a yellow submarine

Ok, I admit it...

I guess I am having what is known as a "mid life crisis" or something. I read back over my worry post and had to laugh a little. Mainly, because the post didn't even begin to touch on all of my issues. I have discovered that life is not how it appears to be, sort of like that warning in the rear view mirror "object may be closer than appears." When you wipe off some of the layers of facade we pile up, you get a little glimpse of how it really is. Even as close as we are with our own selves, we tend to paint things to suit our view, and then we are genuinely surprised when we discover our folly. I think that has been referred to as "sticking your head in the sand, wearing rose colored glasses, etc." I have decided that all that sand and paint and wallpaper creates a wall around our hearts to protect it from the truth, and it takes a lot of picking and peeling, blood, sweat and tears to uncover even the smallest inch of wall (truth).
You think you got it all together and are set for life then one little thing can happen to completely toss you out of your little orbit. I have met so many people who this has happened to, and it scares me, especially since I feel like I have only a tentative and slippery grip on my orbit...We try to take can of our own, but the gravitational pull of all these planets are changing our elliptical shapes. LOL.

Another thing...
I find myself caught in what seems to be an endless loop of repetitive activity and this is beginning to seriously annoy me. I am bored out of my mind. I seek out things to do to keep from being bored.
I make crazy and compulsive lists and fill up every speck of spare time to keep from having to have any empty time. I am very uncomfortable with spare time. Some people seem to have an excess of it.
This leads to a discussion of my compulsiveness. I have to wonder if I am compulsive or if the others are just lazy as hell.

Hmmm....Well needless to say, Im not crazy. LOL...
Good nite....
End Of Rant

Tuesday, June 2, 2009


Most of my days are spent worrying. Why do I worry so much, I ask myself this constantly. How can I stop? Does anyone worry about me at all? Is this like some kind of genetic trait? My mother was a worrier. She was also very nosy. I am what I like to call, curious. But that just means nosy. My kids call me Nosy Nancy behind my back. Isn't every parent nosy? Nosy Nancy. Isn't that nice?
Well, I guess I resented my parents intrusion into my "life". I never saw the forest for the trees either. I wish I can remember when it all became so clear. When the curtain of delusional thinking lifted and I saw how things really were, and how it was going to turn out, if I didn't do something and fast. Thats when I decided to take my sister In Law's advice and my brother's advice and go to nursing school. I never wanted to be a nurse when I was small. I think I told ya'll before that I wanted to be an archeologist...but I just figured out that wasn't going to happen and I thought, ok, i gotta do something. So the rest is history, as they say.
But nobody warned me about this worrying thing. At least the part where you still worry about them after they are 20, 30, etc.
Now I get to worry about grand children, too.

Is there a pill to make you stop worrying? If there is I sure would like to get it prescribed.
For now, I guess I'll just have to distract myself. But when you wake up thinking about a thing and it stays with you all day, something tells me that can't be healthy. I hope I don't have a stroke over it. All my relatives died of strokes or heart attacks. Only one died of cancer and that was my mom, the worrier.
I am being really morbid, aren't I?

Oh well, just venting....nobody said this was just gonna be a happy poem blog. I have a rant blog too....but that is too personal to make public. People might find out how I really feel...LOL.

Ok, that's enough for now. I feel better.
Thanks for listening.

Monday, June 1, 2009

Joon first....Neurons are firing...

Dragyonfly's Dreams

Peach Nectar sweet-like crystalline sugar
and thick ice water kisses...
Mermaid dreams in tangerine poses
amid night absinthe-asphyxia.
Pink milk and honey,
eggshell cotton candy-
icicle fractured
glass-eyed firefly.

Friday, May 29, 2009

My Lions

My Lions

Lions, my lions.
Strong and yellow eyed
Muscled, maned
and menacing
the color of grass,
hiding in plain view.
Silently measuring
speed and distances
planning the pounce,
panting with hot breath.

Lions, my lions.
Well, dad, were there
too many hours lined up
on the clock for you?
Too much time to fill?
Bone tired, soul weary
Iron will, worn thin.
Rusted, rooted, wretched.
You took a side door
that we didn't see.
The epitaph reads wrong
Your reason was warped but
your rationale was right.

Lions, my Lions.
Mother, there is life in your pain
pain in this life, after all.
and for all of this
endless suffering, surely
you are becoming an angel,
earning your wings.
Breeder of family
Brooder of ties that bind
Tending of home fires,
of futures, and fathers who fall.
Such mortal pain shall surely be rewarded.

Lions, my lions
The head knows the truth but
The heart will not hear it.
It lays naked on the floor
for any who would look.
Yet veils cover the eyes
fog clouds the brain.
What the heart wishes to see
is never the reality.

A mask hides the face
a menace unknown
Emerging enraged,
as points razor sharp.
ripping the fragile fabric facade
draped over certainty
of what is thought to be true
into shreds of grief
of disbelief,
for who we knew
used to be you.

Lions, my lions.
We the victors,
the virtuous women.
We breed glowing eggs in the
dream-scape of life.
And on our journey we take
translucent wanting and
Our memories of water.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Stuff and Junque

Well all the excitment of the whirlwind beginning of May is over and I'm whupped. How can you get so tired from having so much fun? I need a vacation to get over my vacation....LOL. So to recap, a good time was had by all...Now back to work. My last creative writing workshop is looming and Im kinda sad. But I think I need to move forward now and either write that book or go back to school myself. I have been a nurse for 24 years and I would like to change gears, but I would like it to involve writing, reading or editing or something wordy. I know I am done with health care schooling. I just can't do that anymore. When I see my friends struggling with their studies as they go through various programs such as Nurse Anesthetist school or to become Nurse Practitioners, I know I don't have that stuff in me anymore. So here are some pictures of my little trip to Destin to prove I had fun. We visited with some friends who have a sailing business and they were so nice and showed us a wonderful time on their boat as well as had us over for dinner the next night. Thanks Chris and Rex!!

Sunday, May 10, 2009

Graduation Celebration

Well, she did it!! She got her diploma and we survived the week. I am so pleased and happy for my daughter, she has marked one of several big milestones of her life. I hope she can one day appreciate what she accomplished. I know some people don't think a high school diploma is a big deal, but when you think about what all lead up to it...12 years of commitment to a goal it puts it in a different perspective. How many things do people commit to for 12 years. I can't say it was an easy road for her, or us for that matter. There were obstacles and she had the expected bumps in the road, but overcame it all and became a self sufficient learner. She taught herself how to find resources and ways to seek answers that were not immediately available. That is one beautiful thing about homeschool, is that you don't always have someone there with the right answer, and one of the most useful things you can learn is how to find out what you need to know.

We had some great tutors, too.

As for me, I loved having her home so I could spend time with her and watch her grow and learn.

Graduation is the end of one thing, but the beginning of another so we are happy and sad at the same time. She is now a woman and has stepped over that threshold of childhood.

I look forward to all the next milestones in your life, my sweet girl.

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

My little baby girl Lindsey

My baby graduates next weekend and I am so proud of her.

She is so smart and funny and bossy, Im positive she is going to go far in life.

She knows shes a "whoops" baby, but I wonder If she knows how much fun I had with her. She is 10 years younger than her oldest sibling, and shes also my late-in-life baby. My other two kids and me sort of grew up together, and I was very self absorbed and trying to go to school to be a nurse and make some money for us to live on....so we struggled alot.

But, by the time she came along, my nursing school was over and I was well established in my job working weekends, so I got to spend alot of time with her and we got to be pretty good pals. I really am glad we decided to do the homeschool route, because who knows how things would have turned out if she had continued to have to fight her way thru public school in the 2nd most violent city in the US.

As a veteran homeschool student, she is good at finding resources and being an independent learner and self starter, some really good qualities in a changing world.

I have enjoyed being at home with her, probably more than she has enjoyed me being here. This year has been very different because the rest of the family is home all day now, so that makes the time we had together even better.
So this week we are planning a graduation for Saturday, and then a barbeque afterward, then it's off to Destin, Florida to lounge around by the sea and rest. I hope to have some sea inspired writing to share with any who would read it. At least I know I will have some sun and a belly full of shrimp.....

I can't believe she is all grown up.... She will always be MY baby.

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Writing Prompt....Is life getting better or worse as you get older?

This little writing prompt caught my eye and I went past it, then came back to it, then went past it again.

So here I am back with it. I must be wanting to address it, huh? LOL.

I don't know about it being "better or worse", but it is decidedly more intense.

I attribute part of that to my wildly flutuating hormones, and partly to the people who add drama to my life.

I sometimes wish to be left alone and frequently daydream about leaving with no forwarding address, but then, I realize how utterly lost I would be. I would surely find someone else to worry about, some stranger. Because that is how I am. (Plus I would miss these misfits of mine. ) Because the other part of the equation is that I am a person who gives a damn. I can't turn it off, get over it, fageddaboutit, move on, put it on the back burner or blow it off.

As my darling husband so sweetly pointed out the other day, I'm like a bulldog when I get on to something. I don't think it was intended as a "dis". He was just being honest and I know it, too. I am also a "fixer". So combine "fixer" with "bulldog" and add in the variable of "equally stubborn children" and you get a volitile compound. (Ok, I know you didn't sign up for a chemistry lesson, I just thought was kinda cute.)

As I get older, I have noticed I am more critical and I don't like that. I have become cynical and jaded and I have a new tendency to gossip. I find I don't have time to volunteer. My world revolves around, well, my world.

As I get older, I insist on time for myself and my writing and exercise (even tho I can still BS myself out of it) . My weight loss has given me new energy and endurance, yet I have less tolerance of other people's shortcomings.

As I get older, my skin is dryer, my hair is getting grayer, my eyes are getting foggy, my memory is getting crappy and If something doesn't hurt when I wake up, I make sure and check my pulse.

As I get older, world events piss me off more and I get even more confused about politics. I never really understood all of that but now it's so complicated I don't even try.

As I get older, I realize the importance of a lifetime of learning and growing in all directions.

As I get older learning and growing are very difficult.

As I get older I feel my time clock ticking and a vague sense of urgency.

But Im glad to be older, glad that I am here and healthy, and to have a family. That is alot more than alot of people have.

As i get older, I realize that is all that really matters.

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

A little poetry 4u..

A Haiku for you:

Bone tired soul weary.

Wrought iron will worn thin, rusted.

Rotting and wretched.

Formless Freeform Fateful furp:

Lions, my lions,

strong and yellow eyed killers

maned and muscled

soft with claws to catch

maws of death

The color of grass.

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

A Luc Bat (vietnamese poetry)


In this darkness, I lie

if a shadow can, cry aloud

to mock the reaper's shroud

folly to be so proud, so wrong.

To disregard your song

I knew it all along, you see,

For it lived deep within me

My heart held the key, to unlock

the ever ticking clock

and to my utter shock, I died.

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Soul Armor

The head knows the truth, yet this heart will not hear it,
truth laid bare for any who would look.
A veil o'er the eye,
a fog clouds the brain
what the heart
wants to see is
the reality.
A mask hides the face
of a person unknown
emerging as points
razor sharp.
Ripping the fabric
draped as certainty
of what is thought to be true,
into shreds of grief for
who I thought to be you.

Second go round in creative writing workshop

Our newest writing group is called the Daffodil Series, in honor of spring and it is an all women group, this time. Our leader predicted it would change the flavor of the group's writing, and it truly has. I am enjoying it immensely and am learning alot about writing styles and most of all LISTENING to others readings and being able to process it and have an intellegent comment, even though sometimes I seem to misunderstand the content, I think, but I am developing my ear.

Last meeting, the topic of "mother" came up several times during the session. I wonder if has to do with Mother's day coming up or we have a pregnant member, or if most of us are mothers. Whatever it is, it started out predictibly enough, with the writing prompt...."mother, is..." and the writings spanned from deep feelings of anger, sadness and joy, appreciation, awe and sorrow. Dr. Freud (or was it Jung?) could have used us as his control group, because "mother" seems to have shaped us in ways unimaginable.
I find that fascinating.

I never gave it much thought, unless I say something that she used to say, or if I find myself interrogating my children, as she used to. She knew what I was going to do before I did. Many times she was already where I was sneaking off to, parked and waiting to tell me to turn my ass around and just go back home. I never knew how she did this. My mom was just my mom. I don't think I ever really saw her as an indivdual, as I insist that my kids view me. I tell them frequently that I have a life and I intend to live it. My mom never said that to me.

I always viewed her as an adversary or something to avoid being like. I really wasn't a nice person growing up, I have discovered. I felt justified at the time, but I was very selfish in retrospect.

Of course, she is dead now, and hind sight is 20/20 as they say. I wish I had more time with her. We were good friends the last few years of her life, I got a small glimmer of the real person she was, not just the mom because, at last, I was paying attention.

Well, anyway...here is what I wrote...

Mother, I wish I had been a better daughter.
Mother, my questions are endless
Not enough knowledge I sought
Not enough answers I heard.
Without knowing,
How should I proceed?

Mother, my life is on the edge
Which way should I turn?
Toward comfort and the familiar?
Or the wild and unknown
at this halfway mark,
at this milestone?

Mother, my journey is rocky
So many expectations,
How do I work with this?
Where do I fit in?

Monday, April 6, 2009

Stuff about me

My favorite word is..BRAWP..try it! Just say it out loud...You gotta emphasize the Br and the P..Your lips sort have to of flap around. My family "brawps" when something is funny, but not funny enough to warrant a full throttle belly bustin' laff.

My Least favorite word....."Nurrrrrse" said with a waver in the middle immediately followed by "I need a bedpan" or even worse, "I needed a bedpan, but couldn't find my call light."

Nasty teeth turn me off.

My favorite sound is John Hiatt's songs.

I hate heart monitor alarms and Iv pump alarms.

My favorite curse word is Bitch...but you gotta say it with your lips flapped out for the B and a drawl in there, and emphasize the ITCH part. Like Bitch Please.

I wanna be a writer.

I definately do NOT wanna be a Gastrointestinal Research Nurse.

When I get to heaven, I want God to say, "Girl, you crack me UP."


Silently watching the world, I, the ancient sentinel, ever unmoving
see my world green, winter and die, then return to green again.
As I remain... Ever-Green.
Rare lichen nestle my skin
and at my feet, soft green moss and deep shade.
Deep silence.
Countless seasons pass, yet I am ageless.
My deep roots are tangled with the family that stands next to me.
And so entangled, when one falls so may the others who cling to it.
Generations of children and I, standing closely together as one.
Little ones that grow along in the canopy, rooting into my great wooden body.
And we are watching, we will endure.
Time is all we have.

Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Premenstral Self Portrait, Aka...oh woe is me.

O! to be cherished and adored
and not dreaded and abhored!
Such a cynic eccentric,
cold, callous, calculating.
Narrow, bitter, impatient.
Manipulative, myopic,
opinionated and jaded.
Bitchy witchy wishywashy.
Not wise or decisive
but aggressive and derivsive.

Friday, March 27, 2009

Tell a story that has been passed down through your family. (If you do not have a biological family, tell any story you remember hearing as a child

Well, my parents had a weird sense of humor and since I was the last, late in life, whoops baby, I got alot of that good old "one on one" since my 2 brothers had moved out and were married and stuff.
One thing I distinctly recall was whenever my family were talking about something that happened before I was born, and I would ask, "where was I when that happened," they would always tell me "you were still in Africa." So I naturally thought I was from Africa. When I started first grade(I never had to go to Kindergarten, it was not required back in those days) my teacher asked everyone to say their name and where they were from. Ok, you already guessed it, when it came to my turn, I blurted out in my little white girl southern accent, "I'm from Africa." Well, that got quite a response from the kids who thought it was hilarious, but my teacher did not find it amusing at all and accused me right off of lying. The kids teased me for 6 months everytime I came to school.
And so began my journey through school. I have to tell you It didn't get much better. I was either making stuff up, lying or trying to figure out how to stay home. School was a big headache for me, actually.
Another story that I have heard was the story of an old maid Aunt, can't recall her name. She was somebody's sister and was very eccentric. Im not sure which side of the family tree shes from but I'm pretty sure she's a blood related because I have some more family that is sorta like her. (For future reference, all my people come from Arkansas, and you should know that up front.) Seems this old aunt would gather dust up from all over the house, to stuff into the rag dolls that she would make and then sit them around on her beds and furniture. She also wallpapered her house in that thick brown paper they give you to wrap up parcels and meat. All except the ceiling, which she papered with the funnies section of the newspaper, because she was sick of looking at the blank ceiling all nite. (Well, hey, here's an idea, go to sleep you weirdo.)
Then there was another Aunt who rented out rooms in a boarding house, and had a side business of raising worms. One time, she ran an ad in the newspaper which read, "rooms for rent, 25 South Main. And don't forget, I have worms!"
My Uncle Earl worked for the railroad, and once, when a train derailed, he ended up with a boxcar full of scorched jars of peanut butter and he would give everyone tons of peanut butter. He also had acquired a Strativarous violin. (I don't know, so don't ask.) Uncle Earl asked me once If I enjoyed my trip (to visit them, I assumed) and I said Yes. He asked me "well, was it an acid trip or a grass trip?" Now I was a teenager in the 70's so you can imagine the reaction, I thought he was the coolest Uncle ever. He thought he was pretty funny too. My peoples liked to drink a little bit so there was always an intoxicated adult around to make fun of.
I actually had another old Aunt who lived in a place called Locust Bayou, and she had about 13 kids, of which none came to see her in her nursing home when she got sick. I do not know those cousins and don't want to. She was my mom's and aunts half sister, and also their cousin. It's a long story.
Ok, I'll just tell you.
Seems like back in the day, it was customary that if a man died and left a widow with kids, his unattached brother should step up and marry her. So that's what happened. My granny was married to brothers and had one child with the first hubby, then the rest of her kids with the brother of the first, or her second husband.
(Yes, those are banjos you are hearing)

Ok, enough of the straight up family tree of me. We do have a few branches, but our gene pool is murky and a little shallow.

But we have fun.

Sunday, March 22, 2009


The Strangers in my skin
lurks around corners
whispers to me.
Wears a dark coat
Stands in doorways
always about to turn away
gives sidelong glances
casts long shadows in
my confidence.
Echoes of snickering,
sounds of wet pavement
and footsteps on empty streets.
The strangers move in the smoky dark.
The faces never revealed, but I know the shadows.

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Spring in the air

Well, spring is around the corner and we are looking at renewal once again. Much to look toward, much to look back on. Very few regrets so far. I am slightly distraught over a family member who is causing me much worry, but I am learning to let go as much as I can. It is difficult to watch someone fall over and over again. But there is nothing to do about it, so I must help myself adjust.
This spring I am going to start putting the Childrens book I am messing around with on my front burner and get 'er done.
I have been taking a creative writing class that has helped me immensely with motivation. Thanks Valentine!

I have big plans for the yard, as well, starting with a new fence and flowers and a coat of paint here and there. Don't want to get too motivated and forget to write.

Sunday, March 15, 2009

105 pounds ago



Some ruminations, preop Lapband....

Going backward. Backing up, doing it in reverse. That is the answer to the question. In seeking how to begin this memoir, where to start has been the main stumble bumble. So I will start here, at the now, instead of the beginning where all good memoirs start. Who cares anyway?
My most current obsession or the obsession closest to the cerebral cortex is the losing of the blubber-suit. I have accumulated an alarming mass of fat on my body. I have no idea where it came from or when it arrived, I only just noticed it. (Now everyone who believes that stand on your head, as my dear departed mother would say.) But for “memoir’s” sake, lets just pretend I just noticed it. From this moment forward, my existence will be to get rid of it. To shed it like the layer of insulation it is. I have become 2 or 3 people and its getting rather crowded in here. Now I always thought that I was preceded by my breasts but now a days I have to look around them to see my feet. Im not happy about that or the fact that I wear a size 26 in pants, 34 in shirts(this is huge) and a six shoe. I look like a pear on stilts with these litttle bittty feet. People do love me in spite of my fat and I know they do. I think they would love to see me in better shape, so I go forward with the blessings I know they send me. My outspoken friend Laura, never stopped telling me how concerned she is. I would get really mad at her but I really know she is right. So as I sit here and make plans and such, I am avoiding exercise. That is how I sabotage myself. I think I am so slick. Walking is how I will begin to move, but when? In the morning? Evening? Afternoon? Morning and evening? With or without dog? With or without child? Before or after the coffee? See? I am doing it again.
Ok...where to start? Ok, I had a baby about 15 years ago and it has been easing up on me ever since. Of course I was a fat child and teenager, then later a chubby adult. Never have I been “thin” but I have been less fat. There are pictures of me to prove it. Some observations I have had include breast feeding and weight loss. I got rid of a lot of immediate baby weight breast feeding. No if I could breast feed all the time, I might be thin. Do any of you have babies you need breast fed? Is that gross? I guess maybe it is. When I was nursing my last baby, I got right back in those pre-pregnancy pants, but as soon as I stopped, bam!! I burst right through them. So I just found some bigger pants and went on. That has been my legacy ever since. I have finally reached the end of bigger pants. I am going to go the other way now. I don’t think they sell clothes any bigger anyway.
I am going to have surgery, one way or the other, im getting rid of it. Wait and see. My sweet husband seems sad to see it go, but he soon perked up and said he was cool with it as long as I didn’t find some sexy Mexican and run away. Now why would he say such a thing? Lindsey, my last child who is also overweight, is way out in the lead and has lost about 20 pounds on phentermine. I am very happy for her. She seems to be on her way. Now its my turn. Im nearly 50 and it’s a turning point for me. Halfway somewhere.
There is a bright and sunny day in my past where I was happy and carefree. No children to worry about no bills, only fun and laughter with my best friend, Ellen. She was and still is always nearby for me to call and chat with. I am pondering those easy autumn days as I ponder my future too. I remember blazing reds and oranges and crisp cool breezes and long walks home. Lurking around on the fringes of my memory, there is also things like cinnamon bread and eggs, with sweet, sweet tea and spaghettios. Bar-b-que chips and chocolate cupcakes, Dr. Pepper and 16 oz cokes. Candy and cokes and chips were the main part of my diet and that set the stage for the first act of my fat play. I liked to eat mustard and pickle sandwiches and mayonnaise sandwiches and Hawaiian punch fruity juicy red. On Saturdays I would make a pizza and eat the whole thing by myself. Strange thing is that today, my favorite splurge junk food junk food is chocolate cupcake and bar-b-que chips. I still like real cokes, but I drink diet cokes because I know that I should. We are what we eat, that’s for sure.

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Oceana's cradle

Oceana's lover

Bits of ancient life ground down by time, now a salty mist
a mist that clings.
Clings to wet skin, clings onto dark and secret places.
Gritty, grainy, crunchy, crystalline-
She cradles the sea, holds the sea, loves the sea.
Is created by the sea-
So Soft and cool at night.
Hot and hard at noon.
Packed down so solid by the feet
of the flocks
That find their way there.
These are Sounds of Ancient Seas-
Surf and shore collide in a chorus of constant motion, churning, arching.
Yearning only to be one.
Unchanged by Millennia or Man.

Monday, March 9, 2009

A bedtime story

We are taking a break from the Froggie who would a wooing go, and his friends Fluffy Bunny to bring you this important announcement.
No, really, this is not that important. I just wanted to do some bloggie stuff, living life stuff, like others do on their blogs. Except I dont make cute paper crafts or cake decorating. I am an amateur photographer, and definitely an amateur writer. So I don't have any colorful web designs to show you, but I do have horror stories galore.
Here is one you are sure to enjoy.
As most of you know, I am a nurse in an urban hospital. I work weekend nights with some of the greatest people I have ever met. We are a top notch team of nurses who have over 150 collective years of experience.
How we all ended up on the unit and the same shift, I will never know. We work in the Cardiovascular surgery ICU, and we have some really sick people come through needing various surgical interventions. Most make it. Some do not.
Of the ones who do not live, the ones that really get to me are the young people and when I say young, I mean the 20-60 age group who like to smoke crystal meth and crack cocaine. Two of the most wicked drugs in the world.
See? What happens here is usually the patient is hypertensive anyway, and instead of buying their blood pressure medication, they buy crack and crystal. Now why in the hell would a 60 year old hypertensive smoke a rock of crack, you may ask? Well, we ask that question all of the time and really don't really know, but if you look at the medication history provided by his/her "shocked" family, you will see things on there like... aspirin, plavix, lopressor, and sometimes viagra. Way too old to be smokin' the rock and getting crazy on Viagra.
Ok, I admit it. I'm being judgmental, the first "no no" of nursing.
Well sorry but after pouring countless gallons of blood into people who we try to save, after their aortas dissect from stem to stern, I can't help but be a little judgmental. Once or twice we were able to pull them out of the icy grip of death, or the grim ripper as we like to call him. (Not reaper, ripper), only to have the dumb ass go home after 4 or 6 months in the hospital (usually without insurance), and smoke some more crack. Guess what happens next?
They come back in dissecting all over again..For those of you who are not familiar with the term dissecting aorta, it is when the inner lining of that really big artery that carries blood from your heart down to the rest of your body, rips the length of the vessel, it usually starts in the Aortic valve and makes its way to the iliac arteries. That's the ones that feed your legs. In between it hits your renal arteries and sometimes the coronarys. All of this is caused by a violent rise in blood pressure beating the inside of the arteries and eventually, they begin to tear along the inside or Intima. Usually the outside wall holds, but this is not a comfort, because it won't hold for long. When that happens, it is called a rupture and you can pretty much kiss yer own ass goodbye.

So, the moral of this story is, if you smoke crack or crystal meth, you are on a hellbound train. You will wind up dead. In other words, it will kill your ass.

If you know a smoker of crack, please print this off and give it to them.
You can tell them we will be seeing the insides of them after their insides explode. This cannot be over-exaggerated.

By the way, this is where a lot of the blood supply goes.
And not one of these humans ever has insurance, so guess who's paying for all of this excellent nursing and medical care?
You and me: the taxpayers and insured.

We pour it in, and out it pours back .
All for the love of a rock of crack.

(Sorry I had to do a little rhyme.)

I hope I could shed a little light on the state of our medical situation in my little corner of the world. I know we are not isolated.

The news isn't all bad, though. For those of us who care about our bodies there are so many wonderful and new drugs as well as procedures to keep the surgeons away.

Take good care of your body. Don't smoke crack.

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Cracked fairy tales- revised

A Frog he would a-Wooing go. This is The Original.


This book is a recreation of the original picture book by Randolph Caldecott. This one has a 1988 copyright by New Orchard Editions, Link House, West Street Poole, Dorset BH15 1LL, UK. It was printed in Purtugal by Printer Purtugesa.

The picture on the postcard illustrating this rhyme is the first picture in Caldecott's book. Here are some other pictures from the book. Front cover, Back cover,
The text in this book is similar to that in The Funny Froggy Bubble Book, with the same chorus. However, there are some differences. The frog meets the same demise as that in both The Funny Froggy Bubble Book and in the cloth book.

A Frog he would a-wooing go

A Frog he would a-wooing go,
Heigho, says Rowley!
Whether his Mother would let him or no.
With a rowley-powley, gammon and spinach,
Heigho, says Anthony Rowley!

So off he set with his opera hat,
Heigho, says Rowley!
And on his way he met with a Rat.
With a rowley-powley, gammon and spinach,
Heigho, says Anthony Rowley!

"Pray, Mr. Rat, will you go with me,"
Heigho, says Rowley!
:Pretty Miss Mousey for to see?"
With a rowley-powley, gammon and spinach,
Heigho, says Anthony Rowley!

Now they soon arrived at Mousey's Hall,
Heigho, says Rowley!
And gave a loud knock, and gave a loud call.
With a rowley-powley, gammon and spinach,
Heigho, says Anthony Rowley!

:Pray, Miss Mousey, are you within?"
Heigho, says Rowley!
"Oh, yes, kind Sirs, I'm sitting to spin."
With a rowley-powley, gammon and spinach,
Heigho, says Anthony Rowley!

"Pray, Miss Mouse, will you give us ginger beer?"
Heigho, says Rowley!
"For Froggy and I are fond of good cheer."
With a rowley-powley, gammon and spinach,
Heigho, says Anthony Rowley!

"Pray, Mr. Frog, will you give us a song?"
Heigho, says Rowley!
Whether his Mother would let him or no."But let it be something that's not very long."
With a rowley-powley, gammon and spinach,
Heigho, says Anthony Rowley!

"Indeed, Miss Mouse," replied Mr. Frog,
Heigho, says Rowley!
"A cold has made me as hoarse as a Hog."
With a rowley-powley, gammon and spinach,
Heigho, says Anthony Rowley!

"Since you have caught cold," Miss Mousey said,
Heigho, says Rowley!
"I'll sing you a song that I have just made."
With a rowley-powley, gammon and spinach,
Heigho, says Anthony Rowley!"

But while they were all thus a merry-making,
Heigho, says Rowley!
A Cat and her Kittens came tumbling in.
With a rowley-powley, gammon and spinach,
Heigho, says Anthony Rowley!

The Cat she seized the Rat by the crown;
Heigho, says Rowley!
The Kittens they pulled the little Mouse down.
With a rowley-powley, gammon and spinach,
Heigho, says Anthony Rowley!

This put Mr. Frog in a terrible fright;
Heigho, says Rowley!
He took up his hat, and he wished them good night.
With a rowley-powley, gammon and spinach,
Heigho, says Anthony Rowley!

But as Froggy was crossing a silvery brook,
Heigho, says Rowley!
A lily-white Duck came and gobbled him up.
With a rowley-powley, gammon and spinach,
Heigho, says Anthony Rowley!

So there was an end of one, two, and three,
Heigho, says Rowley!
The Rat, the Mouse, and the little Frog-gee.
With a rowley-powley, gammon and spinach,
Heigho, says Anthony Rowley!

And Now, My Reply....


A frog go woo?
Who WOULD he woo to?
Some old widder-woman frog, or a
frisky tadpole, new??

(what is to woo anywho?
What a weird word “woo”is, too.
Does it mean to court, date or just to screw?)

Can you see the old hopper
In his red dapper vest?
Clutching a bouquet of weeds
to his chest?
Trying so hard to find a
to clean up his nest.!

Bein' all friendly and charming, too
He covers his warts with a cover-up goo
Trims his froggie toenails, sticks his
wide foot in a shoe.

And for all of his trouble
he finds no one to woo.

After seeking and searching he sits
on the road.
His emerald green fantasy... well
she never showed.
He NEEDED someone to share
his load.
And a thought came to him,
“Maybe I can find a toad.”