Thursday, March 25, 2010

Feelin' Sorry for myself.


Here we are at another spring season. The trees are all happy and ready to burst into green goodness. Little yellow flowers trying to get a head start on the show stealing roses and irises, trying to get their moment in the spotlight. I, for one, am glad that long winter is closing. I usually love the winters but not this time. My entire 2009 was a winter and I am ready for a renewal of spirit, hope and happiness.

The words seem to have dried up, however. With the lack of drama, angst or anxiety, my little spark of creativity seems to have gone out. Im hoping my muse is just taking a well earned break and will be back soon. I get the paper out. I read what I have written. I wonder about new themes and then i put it all back up. I read books on Writing Well, 100 habits of Great Novelists, The Constant Art of Being a Writer, You, Too, Can Write Childrens Books, and so on, and it occurs to me that I might not have what it takes to be a writer. I clutter, my usage is bad. I use cliches and other forms of naughtiness that "serious" writers shun and make fun of.

I miss my writing group, i miss the camaraderie and the support and the feeling of belonging to something. They make me feel better about it all.

So here we are at another spring morning. What shall I do? I need to vaccuum, and mop my floor. See how I sabotage myself??
Where is my muse at moments like this?

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

To Kafern


You sure have been on my mind alot lately. Not that I haven't thought of you before, but you see, my heart was not allowing any more sorrow at the time of your passing. You couldn't have picked a worse time to die, unexpectedly.
You, such a vibrant being, your light blinding. Those who stood with you paled next to you, at best. And when that light went out I felt the shadow, but could not really acknowledge you were no longer on the planet with me.

My body was at your memorial, yet my spirit, my essence, was absent. Occupied else where, out to lunch. Pondering my errant offspring, no doubt. We always said you would be late to your own funeral and it was really funny how they started late in your honor, but in my opinion, for once in your life you were too early, damn it.

You were late to your wedding because you had to stop for 7 or 9 different "last times" as a single person. "The Last Time To Eat A Foot Long Slaw Dog at Sweeden Kreme as a single girl" we ate them in that car flying down Jackson Ave., as your wedding started without you..wiping mustard off your face as you threw on the big white dress, and sneeking "one last joint" in the bathroom, "as a single girl", of course.

And later, much later, while waiting on the baby (well, actually TWO babies) you shared your "secret worry" that the baby might not be Dale's, but a mixed baby. Well, you really got me on that one, I really believed that, and I had Dale so plastered by the time the TWINS came, they could have been lime green and he wouldn't have noticed. Plus there was two instead of one.

Why didn't we know there were twins in your massively huge stomach? Because you were the master at keeping everyone guessing. I know you knew, you must have...but you let us all be surprised when the two baby girls popped out. You just never knew any limits on your tricks, old trickster.

I knew it had to be you who put me on the incontinent supply mailing list, but all you said about that was, "well, it wasn't me, but it's a great idea!" Just like when you put me on Reverend Ike's mailing list and I was getting all of his prayer doo dads and his demand to "loose my money to him."

And you were the spearhead on the late in life pregnancy parade we all participated in, too. Megan was first to be born, and we teased you mercilessly about "don't you know what causes that?" and "we are too old for getting knocked up".
Then Michelle got pregnant.
Then Laura got pregnant.
Then I got pregnant.

So, here you are once again, the first to check out. Is this going to be another trend? Well, all I can say is, I hope you are there keeping a beer cold for me. Tell Janis hey for me, will ya?

I will see you again, old friend.